Page 44 of The Song We Lost

“Don’t,” he says, and his voice is raw now. “You’re too far gone. You’re not listening. You’re not hearing anyone. All you care about is you!”

My chest aches.

My eyes burn.

I want to say I’m sorry.

I want to say please don’t.

But my pride rises like bile.

So I say the only thing my broken brain can reach for.

“I can fix it.”

Noah’s laugh is like shattered glass.

“You can’t even remember what day it is,” he says, voice cracking. “And you still think you get to fix something you destroyed.”

He steps back, his eyes sweep the room, over the bottles, the mess, the papers on the floor, the envelope… Then he looks at me one last time.

“I love you,” he says quietly. “But I had to watch her fall apart and then hold herself together for everyone else's benefit. I had to watch her tell mom and dad that she was filing for divorce and then try to shield you from the blame.” He scoffs and I see tears lining his eyes. "You were off shitfaced with god knows who... and she was still protecting you. Still trying to protect and shield everyone. You don't deserve her, Luke. Maybe you never did."

And then he turns and walks out.

The door shuts.

Dave clears his throat, stepping around the divorce papers like they’re inconvenient.

“We should get you cleaned up,” he says briskly. “There’s a party tonight. The one Bailey will be at. Jackson’s team is hosting. If we play this right, you can get in front of her and try to salvage the narrative.”

My stomach twists.

Bailey.

Close enough to touch.

Close enough to beg.

Close enough to fix.

The thought is oxygen and poison at the same time.

I stare at the papers on the floor.

I want to pick them up.

I want to read every word until I understand what I did.

Instead, I kick them.

Hard.

They scatter across the carpet like birds taking flight.

Dave watches, unreadable, then says softly:

“Good. Get it out. Then we move.”