I grit my teeth. “Yes.”
“You sure?”
No.“Yes.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
I jam the pole harder into place than necessary.
“They’ll be here.”
Hattie waits. “But?”
“There is no but.”
“Holden.”
I close my eyes briefly. When I speak again, my voice comes out rougher than intended. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Hatt.”
“I want you to tell me what’s going on. I’ve never seen you like this.”
“They needed space, okay? That’s all.”
Hattie pauses. “Space from what?”
Me.
The word nearly comes out.
Because suddenly I can see it too clearly.
How often I was there.
How easily I fit myself into every part of Korie’s life, showing up unannounced and uninvited.
How naturally I started assuming I belonged there.
But I never stopped to askwhatKorie actually wanted. I just assumed wanting me was enough.
I grip the tent pole tighter. I rushed into this without ever checking to see if they were okay.
Hattie is still watching me, waiting.
“They just—” I stop hard, jaw clenching again. “I think I fucked things up with us, okay? That’s all. Can you just drop it?”
The admission rips out of me harsher than intended.
Hattie’s eyes widen slightly.
But now that I’ve opened the floodgates, everything else pours out of me too.
“I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” I say quietly. “I just… pushed and pushed, and like usual, I missed all the fucking clues that they were past their limits. And I never stopped. Now they’re overwhelmed, and I don’t know how to fix it without making it worse.”
The tent pole creaks sharply in my grip, and a second later, there’s a terriblecrackas the aluminum snaps cleanly in half.
We both freeze.
For one horrible second, all I can do is stare at the broken pieces in my hands. Then Hattie bursts out laughing. Not mean. Just sudden, helpless laughter.
