Page 115 of Lose You Twice

“Weston, you’re with me,” Asher says, passing Grayson and heading toward his own truck a few spots down. “Are we hitting Oakley’s or Flap Jacks?”

“Flap Jacks? Hell to the fuck no. I fucking hate pancakes,” Weston argues.

Grayson smiles. “Oh, come on now, Wes. They have other stuff too.”

“Yeah, other breakfast shit and literally nothing else. You couldn’t pay me enough to suffer through that place again.”

We all chuckle at that. I open the passenger door to Grayson’s truck, throwing my bag in the back. “Fine, Oakley’s it is.”

All through dinner, I can’t help but keep stealing glances at my phone.

I could text her.

I shouldn’t.

I could ask if she got home safe, which would be normal enough if we were normal people. We are not normal people. We are two people who kissed like a dropped match in a room full of gasoline and then tried to return to our assigned tasks.

My phone buzzes.

For one stupid second, my heart kicks, hoping it’s her.

It’s Harlow.

Harlow: Did you murder Coleson?

Kai: no.

Harlow: Disappointing but legally wise.

Kai: how do you know about that?

Harlow: Grayson

Of course.

Another text comes through before I answer.

Harlow: He said Wren’s okay. Is she? I texted, but she hasn’t replied yet.

I stare at the screen.

Wren is never just okay. She’s functioning. She’s moving. She’s holding a full house together with duct tape and sarcasm while her own exhaustion waits in line behind everyone else’s needs.

Kai: I don’t know.

I lock the phone and let my head fall back against the seat.

I don’t know.

That’s becoming a theme.

I don’t know what we are now. I don’t know what Wren wants from me. I don’t know what I’m allowed to ask for or whether asking for anything makes me selfish when my future has a team name and a city far away already attached to it.

What I do know is worse.

I know my feelings never went away.

That sounds dramatic even in my own head, but it’s the truth. They didn’t leave. They didn’t fade into something harmless. I just built enough distance around them to survive. School. Hockey. Harlow. The draft. Seattle. Routines. A thousand little structures keeping me from looking too long at the empty space Wren left behind.