Page 68 of Spotlight Hearts

She never does.

That night, in the new house with the new family, I lie in a strange bed and make myself a promise:

Never again. Never will I let myself care that much. Or believe someone when they say they want to keep me. I’ll never let go of control. Because caring makes you weak. Needing someone gives them the power to destroy you. Letting go of control means getting hurt in ways you never see coming.

So I built the walls.

Higher. Thicker. Stronger.

And now, standing in this beautiful villa with the ocean singing beneath us, I feel those same walls slamming back into place—heavy, familiar, and suffocating.

I hear Luca shift on the bed behind me.

“Kai…” His voice is quiet. Hurt. “Don’t do this. We have something here between us. I know we do.”

I don’t turn around. I can’t look at him right now.

“I have to,” I say, flinching away as his hand lands on my waist.

He scoffs, but he doesn’t try to touch me again. “Right. I’ll tell Harry I have to get home. I’m sure last night gave him enough to boost ratings for a few weeks.”

My eyes drop shut, and I inhale slowly as the silence stretches. I can feel him watching me, waiting for me to tell him no, that I’ve changed my mind. It hurts more than I expected it to.

But I’ve survived worse. I grab a shirt from the chair and pull it on. My hands are shaking.

“I’m going for a walk,” I mutter.

TWENTY-TWO

LUCA

The door clicks shut behind him.

I drop back down on the bed, staring at the empty space where Kai just stood, the sheet still warm from where he was lying next to me minutes ago.

The silence is deafening.

My chest feels hollow at first—just a numb ache where something bright and hopeful had started to grow. Then the hurt rushes in, sharp and deep, like a knife twisting.

He ran.

Again.

After last night. After I let him have all of me and we fell asleep in each other's arms.

He still ran.

The pain settles heavy in my ribs, making it hard to breathe. I pull the sheet up over my lap, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being naked. If I shift just right, I can still feel the ghost of him inside of me. It hasn’t even been twelve hours.

I trusted him. Fuck, I was an idiot. Of course he couldn’t be with me, I’m a fuck up, and he can see that. He knows I’d ruin it.

Whatever, he’s obviously right, we aren’t right for each other, but it’s not my fault. Anger starts to bleed into the hurt. Not the hot, explosive kind. More of a quiet, simmering kind that burns slow and steady beneath my skin.

He’s a coward.

He’s so fucking scared of losing control that he’d rather push me away and destroy whatever this is than risk getting hurt. He’d rather protect the band and his precious walls, than us.

I stand up. The sheet falls away. I pull on a pair of shorts and walk to the glass doors, pulling the curtain aside. The same view that felt magical yesterday, now feels as though it’s mocking me.