Chapter 2
Avery
Rain hammered the roof of Avery’s dead car, drowning out everything except the sound of her own uneven breathing. She wiped her cheeks with trembling fingers, but the tears kept coming, quiet and exhausted, the kind that didn’t stop just because she wanted them to.
She unhooked her belt and then pressed her forehead to the steering wheel again.
“Please,” she whispered to no one. “Just… not tonight.”
But the universe didn’t care.
Avery’s phone buzzed against the console.
She ignored it at first. She didn’t have the energy for anything else tonight—not another problem, notanother reminder of how badly everything had fallen apart.
But it buzzed again.
And again.
Avery squeezed her eyes shut. Her stomach twisted. She already knew who it was. Ryan had a way of showing up exactly when she was weakest, like he could smell it through the damn phone.
With a shaking breath, she reached for the screen.
Ryan:Avery, come on. Can we talk?
Another message appeared before she could blink.
Ryan:None of it meant anything. You know that. You always overreact.
Her chest tightened.
Typical. Typical of him to say that. He always did, turning his choices into her fault, twisting her hurt into something unreasonable, something dramatic, something she should apologize for.
Another buzz.
Ryan:Just come home. We can fix this. I love you. You know I do.
Avery’s throat burned.
He didn’t love her. He loved the version of her who didn’t question him. The one who forgave too easily. The one who shrank herself to keep the peace. The one who believed him when he said the cheating was a mistake, or the lying was stress, or the distance was her imagination.
She wasn’t that girl anymore.
Her hand trembled as she stared at the messages, at the familiar cycle, the familiar pull, the familiar ache of wanting to believe him even when she knew better.
A tear slid down her cheek.
“No,” she whispered.
Not this time.
With a steadying breath, she tapped the screen.
Block Contact. Block Caller. Delete Thread.
The silence that followed was immediate.
Avery set the phone facedown on the passenger seat, her breath shaking out of her like she’d been holding it for years.
