I nod, even though I’m not sure I can actually do it. “Got it.”
“Good.” She pulls me into another hug. “You deserve to be happy, Liv. Don’t let fear rob you of that.”
After Maya leaves an hour later, after we’ve polished off one bottle of wine and made significant progress on the ice cream, I sit alone with her words echoing in my head.
You’re pushing him away because you’re scared.
She’s right. I know she’s right.
But knowing it and fixing it are two different things.
My phone sits on the coffee table, still dark. I finally pick it up and turn it on.
The notifications come flooding in. Hundreds of them. Text messages, emails, social media alerts. I ignore most of them, scrolling until I find the one I’m looking for.
Carter’s last message, sent twenty minutes ago.
I meant what I said. I’m here whenever you’re ready. I love you.
My chest tightens. I type out a response three different times, deleting it each time.
Finally, I settle on:I love you too. I’m sorry.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
Three dots appear immediately.
Don’t be sorry. Just come back to me when you’re ready.
Tears blur my vision.What if I’m never ready?
His response takes longer this time.
Then I’ll wait. Because you’re worth waiting for.
I set the phone down and curl up on the couch, pulling a blanket over myself. The apartment feels too quiet, too empty. Like a part of me is missing.
Because it is.
The part that belongs to Carter.
My phone buzzes again. I expect it to be him, but it’s an unknown number.
Against my better judgment, I open it.
I know who leaked the photos. If you want to clear your name, meet me tomorrow. 10 AM. Joe’s Coffee on Fifth Street. Come alone.
My heart hammers. I stare at the message, trying to decide if it’s legitimate or some kind of trap.
Another message comes through.
I used to work security at the stadium. I know what happened. And I know you didn’t do anything wrong.
I screenshot the messages and, without thinking, send them to Carter.
Just got this. Should I go?
His response is immediate.
