She nods.
But that tiny pause, that moment of doubt, it slams into me, a hammer to my windpipe. I brush my thumb over her cheek, feeling the weight of the decision settle in my chest.
Something inside me dies.
Hope.
It’s been a beaming, brewing feeling, crawling inside my bones from the moment I stood on the balcony of her piano bar and watched her play “Your Song” with fire in her eyes and starlight in her soul—the same feeling that had burrowed inside me when we were teenagers, when all my ashy, burned-out pieces kindled with new purpose.
She’s always been my hope, wrapped in dark hair, pale skin, and emerald eyes. Hope of better days, of sweeter living. An all-consuming light just within reach.
But it’s too late.
It’s too fucking late.
I pull her to me, burying my face in her sweet-smelling hair, my tears dampening the strands. I breathe her in. Hold her tight.
No words.
Just her, wrapped inside my arms.
For the last time.
“Go, Stevie.” I yank myself free, my stomach curdling, lungs shrinking. “You have to go. I need you to get on that plane.”
Stevie’s mouth hangs open with anguish, her tearful image mirroring mine. She drags her fingers through her hair, tugging it back, shaking her head with disbelief.
We stare at each other, dangling in heart-scraping limbo. I move farther back, closer to the front door, needing to get away. This heartbreak is no less than a hurricane, tunneling out my insides and tearing my chest in half.
“Text me when you land,” I grit out, tears slicing at my eyes. “Please. I need to know you got home safely.”
“Lex…” She cups a hand around her mouth, my words a blade between her ribs.
I feel it too. The razor-like edges.
The knifepoint.
This is what true loss feels like.
Not the slow erosion of innocence or the quiet fading of warmth from things that once mattered. It’s the kind that hits all at once. That rips the ground out from under you. The kind that guts you, making you wonder if there’s anything left to salvage.
I swallow, heaving in a shallow breath. “Just know that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Nicks.” My voice splinters, vision blurring as another whitecap of tears threatens to spill over. “Fucking everything.”
I can’t look at her as I move past her to the front door, shoving my feet inside my shoes, my stomach twisted into knots, and everything in ruins.
She calls out to me as I reach for the door handle. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” she cries, agony lacing every word. “Don’t let them win.”
My eyes close, my jaw aching from the force of trying to keep the grisly tatters of my heart from spewing out between us.
I hesitate.
Swallow.
“They don’t.” I whip open the door and disappear into the hall. “You win.”
Chapter 39
Stevie
