Suddenly, it was just me, Alex, and the ghosts.
He picked up my hand. “Seriously, you okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”
And inside? I was nothing but tired. Tired of pretending, tired of wanting what I couldn’t have, tired of being the fucked up one.
Caiden lingered in the kitchen, pretending not to watch, but every time Alex moved closer I caught the shift in his stance. The way he glared holes through Alex’s back. The way every muscle in him said:mine.
How could I be his when I spent the first half of my young life hiding from him? Fearing him? Hating him?
I thought about running. I thought about kissing Alex, about letting him pull me somewhere quiet, about letting him ruinme in a different way. I thought about Caiden’s hands, rough and shaking, the way he’d held me in the dark when there was nothing left for either of us except each other’s pain.
I thought if I spoke, I’d scream.
So I just smiled and let the night crawl over me. Let the tension build.
Eventually, Sabrina and Shane came back, arms full of sodas and snacks, and the night’s rhythm snapped back into place. Another game, another round of forced laughter.
But nothing worked. The old pain was still there, crouched under my skin, ready to bite.
I fled the living room the first chance I got. Told them I needed water, but really, I just needed the air. Or maybe just a moment where I didn’t have to pretend.
The kitchen was colder. I closed my eyes, bracing my arms on the counter, and tried to steady the shaking in my hands.
I hated that I could still feel Alex’s touch. I hated more that I could still sense Caiden, even when he wasn’t in the room.
His shape filled the doorway. He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there, soaking up all the oxygen, every molecule of the room bending to him.
I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
But of course, he couldn’t shut up. “You and Alex, huh?”
The words were coated with something. Ownership, jealousy, maybe just hunger.
I bristled. “None of your business.”
He made a low noise, not quite a laugh. “Seriously? If you’re gonna let him grope you in front of everyone, maybe keep it down to PG-13.”
My skull pounded. “You’re the last person who gets to comment on who I spend time with.”
He stepped closer, muscles rippling under his hoodie, eyes burning a hole through my back. “Is that what you’re doing? Spending time?”
I snapped, spinning on him. “What’s it to you, Caiden? You jealous? Or just pissed off that I’m not still chained to the past like you?”
Something flickered across his face. “Trust me. Last thing I want is to be anything like you.”
That one hurt. I pretended it didn’t. “Good. Because even if you tried, you couldn’t handle my shit.”
I thought he’d back off, maybe laugh it away. I’d forgotten what he was like when he wanted to get under my skin.
He crowded me, the fridge thumping my hip. “You think you’re hard to handle? Amelia, you’re impossible. Every time I try to talk to you, it’s like you want to start a war.”
My chest squeezed. The ghosts were awake and hungry, whispering Blake’s voice in my ears. Weak, easy, breakable. “Maybe because every time you open your mouth, you turn everything into a fight.”
He gritted his teeth, jaw tight, and for a second, I saw the monster his father made. Then it flickered, replaced by something bleak. “You say that, but you love it. You love the attention. Even if it’s just to feel alive.”
He wasn’t wrong. I hated that he wasn’t wrong.
