I wiped my face quickly, embarrassed by the sting in my eyes. “I understand.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You’re not a bad person, Kei. You’re just part of something that’s been broken for a long time.”
I stood, legs unsteady.
“I’ll go.”
She walked me to the door. At the threshold, she touched my arm, light, brief.
"Not hurt you or anything but I'm still very in love with Cal" she says sadly
“Thank you for being honest,” she said. “And for being kind when you could be.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really am. You deserve someone who can love you without all this baggage. And I deserve the same.”
I nodded slowly. “I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah.” My voice cracked. “I do.”
She reached over, squeezed my hand once, brief, kind, final.
“You’ll always be Eli’s cool uncle. Asher’s too, if you want. But that’s where it has to stay.”
I swallowed. “I’d like that.”
I walked to the door. Paused. “Take care of yourself, Hadley.”
“You too, Kei.”
I left.
....
The drive back to my place was a blur. I ended up at Sydney’s condo instead, old habit, muscle memory. She opened the door in sweats, hair in a messy ponytail, eyes red and glassy.
“What do you want?” she asked, voice flat.
“To check on you.”
She laughed, bitter, hollow. “Now you care? After you all told me to fuck off?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t stop them.”
I stepped inside. The place was a mess, bottles on the coffee table, takeout containers, her guitar untouched in the corner.
“You’re spiraling,” I said quietly.
“No shit.” She sank onto the couch. “They’re done with me. Cal blocked me. Holland won’t answer. Jake sent one text: ‘Get help.’ Like I’m the problem.”
“You are part of the problem,” I said. “But so are we.”
She looked up, eyes narrowing. “Don’t start with the therapy bullshit. I don’t need it.”
“You do. We all do.”
