Pocketing the phone, I waste no time rushing out of Jane’s bakery, my pulse racing with hope.This isn’t over yet.
48
Through Fire And Water
AFEWHOURSEARLIER
The motel room feels like it’s closing in on me.Four walls, a bed that smells faintly of bleach, and a TV playing some late-night infomercial in the background.My phone lies on the pillow beside me, the screen dark now, but the images—that video—are burned into my mind.
Fox.
Fox kissing Lexi.
His hands gripping her like she’s the only thing that matters in the world.
My chest feels hollow, like someone reached inside and pulled something vital out of me.I sit up, dragging a shaky hand through my hair as tears blur my vision again.I promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore.I promised myself after the first time I watched it—after the second time—that I’d stop.But here I am, replaying it again in my head, torturing myself with every detail.
How could he?
How could Fox—my Fox—do this to me?
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to block out the image, but it’s no use.It’s there, taunting me every time I close my eyes.
A soft sob escapes me, and I hate the sound of it.I hate how weak it makes me feel.But what’s worse is the ache in my chest, the way my heart feels like it’s splintering apart.
I loved him.Ilovehim.
That’s what hurts the most.
I reach for my phone again, unlocking it with trembling fingers.The video is still there, sitting in my messages like a grenade I can’t defuse.I open it one more time, and there it is—the two of them.Her hands in his hair, his lips on hers, the way he used to kiss me.
I throw the phone down on the bed like it burned me.My breathing is shallow, and erratic, as I press my face into my hands.
Why wasn’t I enough?
That thought creeps in, unbidden, and it breaks me all over again.
Lexi.She’s everything I’m not.She’s beautiful, confident,a girl.She has all the things I’ll never have, and maybe—maybe that’s what Fox wants.Maybe he’ll never truly wantme.
I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as the sobs come harder now, wracking my body.
I should hate him.I should be furious.But all I feel is…empty.
After what feels like hours, my tears dry up, leaving me numb.I stare at the ceiling, the motel room is silent now except for the faint hum of the air conditioning.My mind drifts to memories of us—Fox and me laughing in the kitchen, him holding me on the couch, the way he whispered “I love you” like he meant it.
Did he mean it?
I don’t know anymore.
I glance at my phone again, the screen dark and mocking.Part of me wants to call him, to demand an explanation, to ask why he would do this to me.But I don’t.
Instead, I switch my phone to airplane mode and toss it onto the nightstand.I can’t deal with this—not tonight, not with this weight crushing me.
I curl up on the motel bed, pulling the scratchy blanket around me.The ache in my chest doesn’t go away, but exhaustion finally takes over, dragging me into a restless, dreamless sleep.
But even as I drift off, one thought lingers:
I thought he was different.I thought he wasmine.
