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No. I know better than that.

This has never really been about me. Not entirely, anyway.

It’s about Milo. It’s always been about Milo.

Peyton can’t stand the fact that a part of him will always belong to me. What exists between us is something she’ll never be able to touch, no matter how hard she tries. She can live under the same roof as him, sit across from him at the dinner table, and spend every waking moment trying to worm her way into his life, but none of that will ever change the fact that she’ll never be anything more to him than his stepsister.

Whereas I… I could be so much more.

The realization leaves me staring blankly at the wall, my tears slowing as a terrible thought settles over me.

She’s not going to stop.

Not while Milo and I are still friends. Not while he keeps coming over or walking me home or finding excuses to spend time with me. Every time he does, Peyton will find another way to punish me for it.

And after what she’s done to Mr. Collins, I can’t even pretend I’m the only person who might get hurt anymore.

Which leaves me with one choice.

One I don’t want to make.

One that hurts so much I can barely stand to think about it.

If I want this to stop, if I want even the smallest chance of getting my life back, I have to give up Milo.

I squeeze my eyelids shut as another sob claws its way out of me.

As if the universe hasn’t been cruel enough to me today, the doorbell rings downstairs.

I go completely still, listening as Dad makes his way to the front door. A few seconds later, I hear him answer it, followed by a voice I would recognize anywhere—Milo.

My heart leaps into my throat as I scramble off the bed and hurry to my window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to see what’s happening below.

He’s standing on our porch with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets while Dad blocks the doorway. Their voices are muffled through the glass, but I don’t need to hear their words to know how the conversation is going.

Dad shakes his head at something Milo says, and when Milo tries again, he only shakes it harder before closing the door in his face.

Milo stands there for a moment, staring at the closed door. My heart aches so badly that I have to press a hand against my chest.

Please go home. Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.

Milo eventually turns and walks down the porch steps, and I follow him from behind the curtain as he makes his way across the street toward his house.

But halfway there, he stops. And it isn’t because of me. It’s because of them.

Peyton is standing on her front porch, and she isn’t alone. The Reds are lined up behind her like a fucking firing squad, all watching Milo make his way home.

None of them say a word. They don’t have to. They’re just standing there, watching him. Watching my house. Watching the bedroom window they know damn well I’m standing behind.

Even from across the street, I can make out the smug satisfaction on Peyton’s face. It takes everything in me not to throw open the window and scream at her.

I know exactly what this is. A fucking victory lap. She’s standing there with her little army of bitches, making damn sure I know she’s won.

Milo follows her line of vision, turning his head until he’s looking straight at my bedroom window.

Our eyes meet. And for one terrible moment, neither of us moves.

Then he reaches into his pocket, and a few seconds later, my phone buzzes on the bed.