Devastated.
The worst part was, I believed it. Not because he’d said anything dramatic or made big promises. He wasn’t that guy, butbecause I’d seen it in his eyes when I told him I’d come. That quiet kind of hope that only shows up when you’ve already been disappointed too many times.
And now I was about to crush it.
I thumbed back a reply, erased it twice before sending anything.
Don’t say that. It’s not my fault.
She replied.
I know. But it’s going to feel like it to him.
The truth sat like a stone in my stomach. Because she was right.
To him, this wouldn’t just be bad luck. It would look like hesitation. Like I’d stood in my apartment this morning and decided it was easier not to show up.
If I hadn’t had a horrible history of ghosting him before, this would be more believable.
And the part that scared me most was that maybe, deep down, a small part of me had wanted exactly that—an excuse. Something outside my control that could take the choice away from me.
Because showing up meant risk. It meant admitting how much he mattered.
And that was so much scarier than any dead battery.
I stared at Lydia’s last message for another long minute, feeling the weight of it settle in. Then I finally shoved my phone into my coat pocket, grabbed my bag, and climbed out of the car.
The elevator doors opened with their usual cheery ding, which felt borderline offensive given the situation. The ride back up to the lobby was slow, filled with the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint buzz of my own nerves.
By the time I reached my floor, I’d made peace with one truth: I couldn’t hide from this.
Not forever.
He deserved to hear it from me, even if it broke something between us.
I let myself back into my apartment, dropped my keys in the bowl by the door, and stood there for a long moment staring at my phone on the counter. The note I’d left for myself earlier still sat by the coffee maker,Go have fun!.
It felt cruel now.
I picked up the cell, scrolled to Drew’s name, and hovered my thumb overcall.
The screen reflected in the window, my own uncertain face looking back at me in double. My heart thudded too fast, my chest too tight.
He was going to be devastated. Lydia was right. And it would all sound like an excuse, no matter how true it was.
I exhaled, steadying myself.
But before I could change my mind again, I pressedcall.
The line rang twice, long enough for me to consider hanging up and pretending my phone had died too. Then his voice came through, warm and rough around the edges.
“Hey, stranger,” he said, that lazy humor coating every word. “Don’t tell me you’re already halfway here. I was just about to brag to Callum that you can’t resist me.”
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. For a second, I almost went along with it—almost said I was already on the highway, music blaring, snow melting on the windshield.
But lying to him, even for a second, felt worse than the truth.
“About that,” I said, wincing.
