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Rebecca.
He always used my full name when we were alone.
Some nights, I could still hear him whisper it into my ear.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I climb into my truck. The door slams loudly as I close it and slide the key in place, starting the car.
In the distance, I can hear the heavy footsteps getting near. “Rebecca, wait!”
Unable to resist it, I lift my gaze to the rearview mirror, catching sight of Miguel running after me. I allow myself a few seconds. That’s all. I look at him for just a few seconds before I pull out of my parking space, press my foot against the gas, and speed out of the parking lot.
My mind is an onslaught of emotions and memories as I drive away. The sound of my heartbeat is echoing in my eardrums so loudly that I can barely hear the roar of the engine. My fingers grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn white.
I drive on autopilot through the empty town streets; the only good thing about living in this godforsaken town for so long. The street lamps give away to the darkness as I move out of the town and toward my house.
Miguel is here.
Miguel is here.
Miguel is here.
How is this even possible?
When did he get back?
For how long is he staying?
Why?
Why is he…
Before the question can even form completely in my mind, my heart sinks as the realization slams into me.
“N-No.” My soft whisper echoes in the cabin of the truck as my stomach tightens.
A crossroad appears in front of me. I stare at it beforequickly shifting right. Thankfully, nobody is driving down this road at this time of the night, so there isn’t a risk of killing anybody as I make my way down the familiar gravel path.
He wouldn’t do this to me. He would have at least told me. He knew what happened. Parts of it, at least. He would have told me and let me prepare for it. This is all just one big mess. This—
A house appears in front of me, the dim lights illuminating the living room.
Good, they’re still awake.
My truck barely comes to a stop before I jump out of it. I stomp up the stairs, pressing the doorbell a couple of times impatiently, my whole body shaking with suppressed anger.
There is a beat of silence as the sound of the doorbell echoes inside before I can hear footsteps coming closer. Muffled laughter comes from the other side before the key turns, and the door is pulled open, revealing the tall frame of one of my best friends.
As if in slow motion, Emmett turns toward me, and I watch as his smile falls the moment his eyes land on me, concern shining in his dark eyes.
“Becky, wha—”
“Did you know?” I ask, not giving him a chance to finish. The words come out in a rush as I glare at Emmett, my fingers clenching and unclenching by my side as I try to keep myself in check while I wait for his answer.
We’ve been best friends our whole lives.
Hell, at this point, I considered him my brother.
He was there for every major event in my life, good or bad. I knew he’d be there. I knew he’d have my back.
