“I’m sorry, Lexi. For everything. This is for you.”
I don’t breathe. Can’t.
The room shrinks around me, every sound that song draws out a fresh twist of grief and something fragile and almost tender—hope. My hands grip my phone so tightly my knuckles whiten; the ache in my throat blossoms, bittersweet and sharp.
The video loops to the beginning again, and this time I hit pause on purpose. I’m left in the quiet, the shards of music still ringing in my blood.
“It’s a beautiful song.” I jump, lightly throwing my phone in the air, and it lands in my lap, the video resuming as my leg presses against the screen.
I hold my hand against my chest as I try to catch my breath, and Dare’s melodic laugh fills the air. “I was worried you didn’t notice I came back. Don’t worry, I’m not offended.” He winks at me, and I can’t help but narrow my gaze at him.Flirtatious Brit.
“He’s been humming that tune for days now. It’s nice to hear it in a fuller capacity. Would you mind if we listened again?” He makes it sound like he’s asking for himself, but I get a sense that he can feel how much I want to replay it.
I swallow hard, picking up my phone, and not even a second later, Dare is standing next to me, holding a glass of water out. I’m not sure if it was his, or if he brought it for me all along, but I take it gratefully.
“Can I?” he asks, pointing to the seat next to me. For a moment I question whether watching this video should be a private moment, but remember Tris did post it for the world to see. And I like having Dare close, it’s comforting. I nod my head, sinking into his side when he lifts his arm to the back of the couch.
My thumb trembles as I slide the progress bar to where he starts singing. I press play and close my eyes, swallowing the catch in my throat. My heart aches right away, able to feel every emotion in the song as if I wrote it myself.
After a moment, I lean into Dare, his fingers coming to run through my hair as I rest my head on his shoulder. We don’t speak until the song is over. Well, I don’t speak at all, but it’s nice enjoying the silence with him. I can’t lie and say I’m not intrigued by the attraction zipping between us. I’m finally guilt-free when that little flutter in my stomach springs up.
“I know I wasn’t here for a lot of the pain he caused you, I mostly only saw your agony when he was missing, but I’ve gathered most of what happened. The bloke has been pullinghairs out over ways to make it up to you.” Dare’s accented voice is soothing, helping me relax into him, even as his fingers do the same thing as they travel over my scalp.
“I’m not sure if you’ve seen them yet, but you should watch all his videos. If that’s not groveling, I’m not sure what is. But if you want a distraction, I’m happy to give that to you as well. I just want to support whatever you need to heal.” He doesn’t do anything after laying that bomb in my lap. Doesn’t pick up his phone or turn on the TV. He seems content to sit here in the silence and let me decide what I need.
It’s the perfect amount of support.
With my curiosity spiked, I click on Tristan’s profile and press the play button on the video before the one I just watched. His face reappears in the same room, same tired guitar strings strummed with hesitance. But this time, his eyes carry something sharper, a fresh edge of regret slicing through the static air. My breath catches, shallow and quick, like I’m about to fall off a cliff I never noticed was there.
He speaks, his voice rough and uneven, like he’s squeezing his pain through the cracks of his jaw. “Hey, Storm Chasers… today’s story is about watching Raina’s debut show. As I’m sure you know by now watching all of these, I was supposed to be there with Raina, but I had to stay at home to finish school. It wrecked me not being there by her side, supporting her in her dream. But you better believe I would be there in whatever way I could be.
“She texted me beforehand about how nervous she was, worried that all of you wouldn’t love her. But I knew that fear was silly. How could the world not love the passion she has for performing?” His fingers wobble on the fretboard, drawing out notes that tremble in the blue-tinged shadows behind him. “I wasn’t ready for what I saw… not really. She was even more dazzling than I’ve ever seen her before. Like a damn cometslicing across a cold sky, but also… distant. Like she was already slipping away from me.”
The words land heavy, a stone settling deep in my chest. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, trying to catch my breath. The air feels too thin, the room tilting slightly. The memory his voice stirs isn’t from that night but all the ones where he never replied to my texts, when it felt like he abandoned me. The ache is immediate, visceral. It blossoms under my ribs like fire.
Tristan’s face shifts as he continues. “It wasn’t long after that our communication cut off. Before you jump to conclusions, it was through manipulation Raina didn’t even know about it. In fact, she thought I was the one who stopped talking to her.” His voice breaks, raw and ragged. “Our friendship ending like that gutted us both. I hated feeling invisible to her when all I wanted was to be the one who knew her best.”
I suck in a sharp breath, unsteady. My fingers clutch the phone tighter. The image on the screen stares back at me with such naked pain it makes my heart tremble in sympathy. It’s as if his confession unravels every protective layer I’ve wrapped around myself, and for a moment, I’m just a girl trying to catch a glimpse of the person behind the hurt.
Tristan’s voice is softer now, lower, like he’s confessing secrets into a void. “I was proud of her. Proud and terrified all at once. Proud that she made it, found her dream and embraced it. Terrified I might lose her to a world that’s always been too cruel, and I wouldn’t be there to protect her.”
The knot in my throat tightens, a dry heat burning behind my eyes. My breathing grows shallow, each inhale jagged against the smooth ache filling my chest. Dare rubs his palm in soothing circles on my back, not saying a word but being the lifeline I need in the storm of all these memories.
This isn’t the arrogant, cruel Tristan I was reunited with. This is a man bleeding his truth, exposing every raw edge and jagged corner. His vulnerability is clear.
With every word, every note, the space between us shrinks, his regret woven into the music, entwined with the ghosts I thought I’d locked away. My hands tremble as I let the video play through, it ending with the words, “I’m so sorry, Lexi. I love you.”
I watch the next, then another, and another.
Each clip ends the same: Tristan looking into the camera with haunted eyes, whispering the same apology, and counting the days to his groveling tour.
The repetition of his remorse hammers at my chest, reverberating in the quiet house. It’s a pulse I didn’t realize I was missing, a fragile thread stitching together broken halves.
I tremble, just barely, as the images wash over me—Tristan’s haunted blue eyes, the shake in his hands, the steadfast promise in his voice. And beneath it all, the ache of everything we lost and might still salvage.
The ocean hums outside, steady and relentless, as if it too listens to his confessions with bated breath.
I lean into Dare once more, using him as support as the room dissolves into sound and shadow, everything gets carried away on the fragile strings of his apology. My throat tightens, but I keep watching, caught somewhere between shattered trust and hesitant hope.
