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And if I cry, I’ll tell him everything.
And if I tell him everything…I might not survive what he says back.
I breathe in through my nose, slow and shaky, trying to find the calm that left with my dignity. My heart thuds like it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest. The scent of pine from the candle Reese left burning wraps around me like a trap—warm, familiar, and suddenly suffocating.
Fletch stands there, halfway between fury and fear, like he can’t decide which emotion to let win. His hands are fists at his sides, his jaw clenched so hard I swear I hear the crack of his molars.
His voice cuts through the silence, low and cold and laced with something sharp. “You were supposed to keep it simple.”
I freeze.
“You promised, Mya.” He spits my name like it burns. “No feelings. No strings. No falling in love. And definitely no… this.” He gestures wildly between us, like I’m some ticking bomb he didn’t sign up to defuse.
“I didn’t plan it, Fletch,” I say quietly. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be the girl who caught feelings for the guy who made it very clear he didn’t believe in more?”
His eyes flash. “Then why the hell didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I ended it eight weeks ago!” My voice cracks with the weight of all the shit I’ve been carrying. “You think I walked away for fun?”
His mouth opens, then shuts. The silence stretches thin. Brittle. Dangerous.
“I missed my period,” I say, staring at the floor because I can’t look at him when I say this next part. “And I panicked. I drove to Dallas because I didn’t want anyone in town seeing me buy tests. Six of them. I peed on every single one in a shitty restaurant bathroom, and they all said the same thing.”
I finally lift my head. “Positive.”
He doesn’t move.
He just stares at me like I’ve become someone he doesn’t recognize.
Like I’m a problem he doesn’t know how to solve.
Like I’m his worst-case scenario.
“I’m not—” He breaks off, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m not cut out for this. For you. For a kid. I told you that.”
“I know,” I whisper. And I do. I always did. That didn’t stop me from hoping he’d prove himself wrong. Didn’t stop me from hoping either.
Fletch takes a step back, shaking his head, his voice suddenly quiet in a way that’s somehow worse than shouting. “You were supposed to be the one person who didn’t ask me for more.”
And just like that, he leaves.
No slamming doors. No final word. Just the echo of disappointment, and the sharp, undeniable truth:
He never wanted me to fall.
And now that I have, he’s not the one waiting to catch me.
He’s the one walking away.
The reception is over. The fairy lights are dimming, the music’s faded into memory, and the night air smells like lavender and champagne-soaked laughter. But somehow, saying goodbye is the part that punches me square in the chest.
Reese wraps me in a hug so tight it squeezes all the breath from my lungs. And maybe that’s poetic, because it feels like she’s taking a piece of me with her.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving so soon,” I whisper into her shoulder, blinking hard against the heat burning behind my eyes. “It’s like you’re vanishing into a Hallmark postcard or something.”
She laughs, but it wobbles. “I’m not vanishing. I’m just going to Bali, not the Bermuda Triangle.”
“But still,” I murmur. “What am I supposed to do without you for two weeks?”
