The ocean stretches before me, endless and dark, swallowing the last streaks of sunset. The waves roll in, slow and steady, brushing the shore like a whispered promise. I hug my knees to my chest, trying to breathe through the ache in my ribs.
I don’t know why I came here tonight. I told myself I wouldn’t do this anymore. I wouldn’t sit in the sand, stare at the horizon, and drown in thoughts of Xavier. But it’s Friday, and old habits die hard.
My phone buzzes in my lap, and my heart jumps, even though I know it won’t be him. It never is. I glance at the screen. Dad.
I hesitate before answering, forcing my voice to be steady. “Hey.”
“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is rough and tired. “You busy?”
I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No. Just… at the beach.”
A pause. Then, softly, “Thinking about home?”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
Thinking about home means thinking about him. About the nights I spent in the garage with Xavier, pretending I wasn’twatching how his hands moved over an engine, pretending I wasn’t in love with him. Thinking about home means remembering the last time I saw him, how my heart shattered when he didn’t fight for me.
Dad sighs on the other end like he already knows. “Izzy, I gotta ask… Have you talked to him?”
I close my eyes. The wind tugs at my hair, salty and cool, mingling with the faint scent of bonfires from the beach parties farther down the shore.
Have I talked to him? I can’t even say his name. “No,” I whisper. “I can’t.” Another pause.
My dad’s voice is quieter. “Why?”
Because I waited. Because I spend nights staring at my phone, fingers hovering over his name, hoping he’d call first. Because I have nightmares about the last time I saw him, replaying it over and over until I wake up gasping for air. Because I still love him, and I don’t know how to stop.
“I thought he was done with me,” I admit. “All that time passed, and I didn’t hear from him. I missed him so much, but I convinced myself he didn’t want me anymore. I had to move on.”
Dad doesn’t say anything right away. When he does, his voice is measured. “Izzy… I don’t think that boy ever stopped loving you.”
Tears prick my eyes. I press my forehead to my knees. “Then why didn’t he call?”
“Maybe he thought you wouldn’t want to hear from him.”
I shake my head. “I would have.” My throat tightens. “I would have come home sooner.”
Dad sighs again. “I told you before, sweetheart. Running from the past doesn’t erase it. You need to talk to him, even if it hurts or doesn’t change anything.”
I know he’s right. I knew it the night I left. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier. A voice calls my name from thedistance. I lift my head, blinking back tears as Ashley, my roommate, jogs toward me. Her long blonde hair whips around her face.
“I gotta go, Dad.”
His voice softens. “Alright, baby girl. Just… think about it, okay?”
I nod, even though I don’t know if I can. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too, baby girl.” I hang up the phone and wipe a tear away.
Ashley reaches me, her expression gentle. “You okay?”
I force a smile. “Yeah.”
She doesn’t believe me. “Come on,” she says, holding out her hand. “Let’s go home.” I hesitate. For one second, I imagine what it would feel like if Xavier were the one holding out his hand, the one telling me to come home. But he’s not here. He never was. So I take Ashley’s hand instead and walk away. Even though every step feels like a mistake.
The world around me blurs as I walk with Ashley back to our dorm room. My steps are sluggish and heavy. I try to focus on the rhythm of my feet on the sidewalk and the sound of Ashley’s laughter as she talks about something from class, but I’m not really listening. My mind keeps pulling me back to the conversation I had with my dad.
His words,“You need to talk to him. Even if it hurts.”Echo in my head, taunting me, making it harder to breathe.
