It’s the understatement of the year. I can’t shake the image of her face the moment she saw me—how her eyes, the ones that used to light up with hope and happiness whenever they landed on me, dropped instead. The warmth and trust I remembered from when I was younger is gone, replaced by distance thatIcreated. She put a mask into place so fast it was almost effortless.
I’d always thought her face could make the world pause, that the curve of her mouth or the flicker in her eyes could tell you everything you needed to know about hope and being seen.
Now… Now it only told me that she was protecting herself from me. That shehadto.
That hurt more than anything I’d felt in the last six years.
Beau’s the only one who ever really got me. Same fucked-up upbringing, same bad choices. Half the time, I couldn’t even tell you why we stayed friends, but we did. We both came from the same kind of brokenness, grew up on the wrong side of everything, and somehow, we ended up standing next to each other, picking up the pieces of shit we’d both gotten tangled in.
He’s the only one who ever really understood why I stayed the hell away from Violet.
We both knew what I felt for her, even when I didn’t have the guts to admit it. Probably why he’s the only one I stayed in touch with after I bailed. With him, there was no pretending. No posturing. No bullshit. He knew how far gone I was, even when I couldn’t say the words.
“She still deserves someone better than a guy like me.”
Beau’s gaze hardens. It’s a look I’ve seen a thousand times. He sees right through me. “That’s your excuse?”
I don’t answer right away. I can feel his stare, those dark eyes that’ve seen the same kind of demons I’ve lived with, and I know he’s not giving me a pass. I’ve never really been able to lie to Beau.
“I left because I knew I wasn’t good enough,” I finally say. “Still know it.”
Beau’s gaze shifts, something like pity crossing his features before hardening into something more resolute. “She’s been seeing some guy for a while now.”
My stomach drops. Why is he telling me this now? I knew it was a possibility, but hearing it confirmed makes my fists clench.
“Clean-cut type,” Beau continues, taking another swig. “Drives a nice car. Domestic and shit.”
I have to remind myself that I was the one who walked away, and I did it on purpose. I told myself it was for her own good, that she deserved someone whole. Someone who could give her things I never had in the first place—stability, safety, Sunday mornings that didn’t feel like a countdown.
But hearing it now, that she has that, or something close to it?
It hits different.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, suddenly hating the way the air seems too still. Like it’s waiting for me to admit what I’ve always known.
I didn’t just leave because I wasn’t good enough. I left because I was scared of how much she saw.
Now…someone else gets to hold the pieces I never had the guts to reach for.
“Domestic,” I echo, the word catching in my throat like smoke. “Right.”
Beau says nothing. Just watches me like he’s trying to figure out how deep the damage goes.
Truth is, I don’t even know. All I know is, she’s moved on.
And I haven’t.
“You’ve always been a pain in the ass, Rowan.”
Beau and I never really had much. No real future to look forward to, no one telling us how to make something of ourselves. We had nothing but the scraps we found along the way, the cheap beer, the late nights, and the things we did to keep the noise of the world from getting too loud.
I remember the way he would sit out front with me on the cracked porch steps, staring off into the distance like he could see past all of it. There was this part of him, this quietness, that always held a stubborn kind of hope. Then there was me. The guy who couldn’t see anything past his own damn fear. I think he’s always hoped I’d pull my head out of my ass so he could convince himself he deserved something good, too. I think he was waiting for me to get it together, so he could convince himself that he could do the same.
But the thing is, we’re a fucking mess. We’ve always been a mess. Just two guys running on fumes, trying to outrun the broken parts of ourselves.
“You’re not a kid anymore,” Beau says.
I’m grateful for Jake’s cluelessness to the conversation when he sits back down at the table. “So you actually like…save people, Row? Looking like that? You look like you’re about to rob the place.”
