He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He just turns and walks inside the house.
And I let him walk away.
43
MADISON
The door clicks shut behind me, and I barely make it three steps inside before the weight of everything collapses.
My legs buckle.
My chest caves in on itself.
And then, I’m falling.
I hit the floor hard, my knees crashing against the cold wood, but I barely feel it. The ache in my body is nothing compared to the ache inside me, to the hollowness that spreads through my chest, to the unbearable tightness in my throat that finally snaps.
A sob wrenches out of me, raw and broken.
Then another.
And another.
Because this time, the pain is different. This time, it isn’t just regret or guilt or the familiar loneliness I’ve trained myself to carry. This time, it’s worse. It’s worse because for a brief, fleeting moment, I let myself believe. I let myself have him, let myself feel what it was like to be loved by someone who has never seen me as anything less than worthy.
And now, I’ve lost him.
Again.
Maybe for good this time.
The realization knocks the air from my lungs, stealing what little control I have left. For years, I told myself I was doing the right thing, that keeping my distance from Jaxon meant keeping him safe. Love, real love, was something I couldn’t be trusted with—not after everything I’ve touched has turned to ruin.
I press my hands to my face, my whole body shaking as the dam bursts wide open. Every emotion I’ve buried, every piece of hurt I’ve ignored, every second of tonight that I pretended I was handling—it all comes rushing out, drowning me in it.
I don’t hear Lyla at first, not until I feel her arms wrap around me, pulling me in, holding me together while I come completely undone.
"Shh, I got you," she whispers, her voice thick with worry as she strokes my hair. "I’ve got you, babes."
I don’t have me. I press my forehead into her shoulder, gripping her sweatshirt like it’s the only thing keeping me from breaking apart entirely. I don’t even know what I’m saying, if I’m saying anything at all, because everything just hurts.
Jaxon’s voice still echoes in my head.
I can’t keep chasing you. You have to make the first move.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. I still see him standing there, his eyes full of something so raw, so final, that it felt like I was losing something irreplaceable.
Because I was.
I had spent so long convincing myself leaving first would hurt less. If I kept him at arm’s length, if I never let myself truly have him, I’d never have to feel this exact kind of pain.
And yet, here I am, on the ground, barely breathing through the sobs escaping my chest.
Lyla rubs soothing circles on my back, letting me cry, letting me break. She doesn’t ask me to explain. She doesn’t tell me everything will be okay. She just stays, and somehow, that makes it hurt a little less.
After what feels like forever, my sobs quiet, fading into sharp, uneven breaths. My body still shakes, my throat raw, my chestaching, but the flood of emotions slows—just enough to let exhaustion take over.
Lyla shifts slightly, still holding me, keeping me anchored.
