Fish finally spoke. His voice was low, roughened by old injury. “Names don’t change you,” he said. “They just show what you survived.”
Rook’s body locked up.
Fish wasn’t talking about road names.
He was talking about scars. About the military. About the things you didn’t say out loud. About the pieces of yourself you lost and never got back.
Rook didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
And that’s when the memory hit him.
Sweet Treats was warm that night, the ovens humming, the air thick with cinnamon and sugar. Avery sat on the counter swinging her legs, acceptance letter folded in her hands. She kept smoothing the crease, over and over, like she could iron out her nerves.
Noah leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed, pretending he wasn’t watching her every move.
“You’re quiet,” she said.
“You’re leaving,” he replied.
She swallowed. “It’s college, Noah. It’s not forever.”
“It feels like it.”
She looked down at the letter. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“I am.” His voice cracked. “I just… I don’t know what I’m supposed to be without you here.”
Her chest tightened. “You’ll be fine.”
“No,” he said softly. “I won’t.”
She froze.
He stepped closer, stopping just short of touching her. “I was gonna tell you something tonight.”
“What?”
He hesitated. Then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Noah…”
“Go chase your dreams, Aves.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Just don’t expect me to be the same when you get back.”
She didn’t understand what he meant. Not then. Not until it was too late.
He walked out of Sweet Treats that night and didn’t look back.
The next month, he enlisted.
He didn’t tell her. He didn’t tell anyone.
He just needed to become someone who didn’t break when she walked away.
Rook blinked hard, dragging himself out of the memory. His chest hurt. His throat burned. His hands shook.
Stone was still watching him. Ledger’s expression had softened. Fish hadn’t moved.
