His hands flexed at his sides, like he wanted to reach for me but knew better.
"I messed up, huge. The kind of mistake that changes the entire course of your life and if I could go back, if I could grab that version of me by the collar and stop him, I would. But I can't. Ican't rewrite the past. All I can do is make damn sure the man standing here now isn't the same one who broke your trust."
His gaze locked with mine, steady and unflinching, even when my silence stretched.
"I've been putting in the work—therapy, discipline, tearing apart everything I thought I knew about myself. I'm not just trying to be better; Iambetter. And I'm not doing it halfway this time. I'm coming for you, Junie. I'll do anything. Everything. Whatever it takes to earn my way back into your life. I'm not asking you to forgive me today. I just need you to know I'm not done. I'm not giving up. Not now, not ever."
The street was quiet around us, but my heartbeat was loud in my ears. He hesitated, then reached into the small paper bag in his hand and pulled out a cup—mycup. My favorite drink, made exactly the way I liked it, down to the extra cinnamon dusting on top. The lid was warm against my fingers when he placed it in my hand.
"Will you meet me for coffee sometime?" he asked quietly. "Just to talk. Anything. I'm that desperate, Junie. If I can't have you... can I at least have you as a friend?"
I let out a slow breath. "I don't know. We're... we're preparing for a big performance, and I won't have time."
Something flickered in his eyes—disappointment, maybe—but instead of stepping back, he gave me this small, knowing smile. "I know," he said, his voice almost maddeningly calm.
"Youknow?" I frowned.
His smile deepened, "I, uh... found out about your upcoming performance," he said, voice a little uneven now. "Ran into Leo at the coffee shop yesterday. He mentioned they're short on backstage help."
My eyes narrowed. "And?"
"And I... might've begged him to let me volunteer," he admitted. "I told him I'd do anything—hauling sets, taping marks on the floor, ironing costumes, holding cue sheets. He said they actually need the help. But..." He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, "I told him I'd only do it if you were okay with it."
I blinked at him. "You're asking me?"
"Yeah," he said simply. "I'm not going to force myself into your space if you don't want me there. I want to be close enough to help, but not in a way that makes you feel cornered. If you say no, I'll walk away. No drama. I just... I want to support you, even if all I get to do is hand you a water bottle and untangle a mess of cables."
I studied him, torn between suspicion and the tiny, with ache blooming in my chest. "Why?"
"Because," he said, his voice low but certain, "this is your world and I can't dance in it but I can hold it up, steady it, so you can shine without having to think about what's going on in the shadows."
For a second, I didn't trust my voice. I had to look away, my fingers tightening around the coffee cup he'd brought me. "That's ridiculous," I murmured.
"Maybe," he said quietly, his smile small but sincere. "But I'll be ridiculous for you every single day if that's what it takes. I'll be the one who shows up early and leaves last. The one who notices when you're tired before you say a word. The one who learns the quiet language you speak when you don't want to be touched but still need someone close. I'm not asking for center stage. I just want to be where I can see you—where you can see me—so you know you're never standing there alone again."
I stayed silent, my fingers wrapped tight around the North Star bracelet.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Fragments of Trust
I folded my arms, leaning against the doorframe as Aaron finished telling me about volunteering.
"I'm glad you decided to help," I said, keeping my tone even but not warm. "We need all the hands we can get. But let's be clear, while you might have thought I was alone... I wasn't. I had—and still have—a strong support system. Even your mom and grandma were there for me."
His jaw tightened slightly at that, a muscle twitching near his temple. He shifted his weight, like he wanted to say something but knew it wouldn't land well.
I didn't give him the chance. "We'll probably never be close friends," I continued, my voice sharper now, "but we can be civil. We can work together without tearing each other apart. My trip to my dad's helped me let go of some grief... and some anger. But the biggest issue?" I met his eyes head-on. "I still don't trust you."
He exhaled slowly, like the words had landed heavier than he expected. "I'm glad you're getting better," I went on, softening just a fraction, "but don't hope for anything beyond civility. That's all I can give you."
He nodded slowly, his gaze locked on mine, scanning my face as if he could read between my words. "I'm patient," he said finally. "I'll try anything to win back your trust. I understand it might take a long time." He hesitated, his voice dropping just slightly. "But... I want to know something."
I frowned. "What?"
His eyes didn't waver. "Is there someone else?"
My heart stuttered. In my mind, I saw beautiful blue eyes behind glasses, the ink of comets and galaxies dancing over forearms that had once held me steady in a spin. I didn't answer. Instead, I tilted my head and asked, "So... how's Selene?"
The shock on his face was immediate. Regret pooled in his eyes, mixing with guilt so raw it almost softened me—almost. "Fair enough," he muttered. "But I haven't seen her since we... parted ways. She called, but I blocked her."
