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SHOUT OUT TO NICK PARKER & ELIZABETH JAMES FOR THE ENDING INSPIRATION.

What was the stage of grieving called where you filled every waking second with work or an activity until you were too tired to think about what was missing from your life?

The stage where you buried yourself under an avalanche of distractions, convincing yourself that productivity was the cure for a shattered heart.

Or when thoughts of the person you lost popped in like an unwanted intruder, feeling like a shot to the heart, and you immediately pushed them away—sometimes with a barbell, sometimes with music so loud it could drown out your own screaming thoughts.

And sometimes, when none of that worked, you found solace at the bottom of a bottle of tequila.

That had been my life for the past week.

Gracie, bless her persistent ass, hadn’t let me wallow alone. She’d flown out to Dallas and then turned right back around, called her work, and said she’d be out for a while. Used her vacation time and everything.

Now, for reasons I still didn’t understand, she’d dragged me to a sports bar downtown, claiming I needed to get out and stop sulking. I’d gone, because fighting her was pointless. And because, deep down, I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts anymore.

The weights had stopped helping.

Maybe the tequila would.

“You’ve been staring at that margarita like it’s going to tell you the meaning of life,” Gracie said, raising an eyebrow as she sipped hers. “Are you going to talk about it, or are we just going to sit here in silence while you mope?”

I sighed. “What the fuck am I supposed to say? I love him. I love him so much, it physically hurts.”

She leaned back in her chair, a smug smile playing on her lips. “Well, it’s about damn time you admitted it. Took you long enough.”

“Don’t.” I pointed a finger at her, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’m not in the mood. What does it even matter that I realized it? I can’t be with him…he doesn’t even know I love him.” The last part was a whisper because it hurt too much to say it louder.

At least I thought he didn’t—he’d never answered any of the texts I’d sent him.

Gracie’s face softened, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I know, mija. But you need to get this off your chest. Talk to me.”

She was right. The weight of my feelings pressed down on me like a barbell I couldn’t lift. “I wanted to show him what it’s like to be chosen, to show him he deserves someone who puts him first. But…” My voice cracked, and I blinked hard, willing the tears not to fall. “I thought I was protecting him, protecting all of them by walking away, but what if I just broke his heart?”

And mine.

Gracie’s covered my hand with hers, squeezing. “Ari, you made a sacrifice. You did what you thought was best for him.”

“But what if I was wrong? What if I ruined everything?” A bitter laugh escaped me, the sound sharp and hollow. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I spent so much time building a career on my own terms, determined to prove I didn’t need anyone and was better alone. And now I have exactly what I thought I wanted but…”

“But?”

“I was fucking wrong,” I admitted, my voice cracking under the weight of the words. “I thought a relationship would cage me, hold me down—” I paused, running my finger along the rim of my glass, willing the water collecting along the rim of my eyes not to fall. I shrugged a shoulder, giving her a watery smile. “You were right. When you find someone who truly sees you, someone who believes in you, it doesn’t cage you. It frees you. Supports you. It makes you stronger.”

She reached out, resting a hand on my arm, unshed tears in her own eyes threatening to spill over. “He gave you that, didn’t he?”

The memories of Dalton’s unwavering encouragement flooded back. The way he’d listened and pushed me to be better without making me feel less.

“He never made me feel like I wasn’t enough, or that I had to choose between him and my dreams. He stood beside me every step of the way.” My chest tightened, the ache almost unbearable. “And now he’s gone, and I feel like I’m dying. Slowly drowning on dry land.”

I paused, trying to settle my labored breathing.

“What if he thinks I didn’t care enough to fight for him? What if…what if he never knows I love him.”

Gracie’s grip tightened, her voice soft but firm. “He knows. And if he doesn’t yet, he will. Love like you two have doesn’t disappear. It leaves a mark. He’ll feel it, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I whispered. “That he’s marked me forever and I walked away. He’s gone.”

Gracie’s brow furrowed, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on my arm. “Ari, you don’t know that for sure. He’s not the kind of man to let something like this go without a fight.”