“Then stop acting like I’m dragging it down.”
Cam didn’t hesitate. “You are.”
CHAPTER 2
BEA
TWO YEARS AGO
The wind cut sharp across Midway, snapping at the hem of my jacket and pushing loose strands of hair into my mouth as I hurried down the path, my boots striking fast against the brick. Chicago didn’t ease you into anything—it hit you head-on, unapologetic. Around us, the campus moved in that same rhythm—heads down, coffee in hand, purpose in every step—stone buildings rising on either side like they’d been there long before any of us and would be there long after.
Micah moved beside me like she belonged to it, like she understood the pace of everything without trying. One hand gripped her clutch, the other cut through the air as she talked, her words quick and animated, her energy threading effortlessly through the noise of passing conversations and distant traffic.
“And I’m telling you, if he looks at her like that again, I’m intervening. I don’t even care if I don’t know him. That kind of body language? Immediate red flag.”
I huffed out a breath, adjusting the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder, my focus split between keeping up andkeeping my thoughts from spiraling. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Micah shot me a look, sharp and knowing, her mouth curving. “I always know what I’m talking about. You’re just not listening.”
She wasn’t wrong. Not because I didn’t care—but because my brain had been stuck on one thing since Lo’s text that morning.
Dinner tonight. You’ll love him.
I exhaled slowly, the words replaying again, heavier now that we were minutes away instead of hours.
“You’re nervous,” Micah observed, her tone shifting just enough to cut through everything else. Not teasing. Not dramatic. Just… accurate.
I glanced at her. “I’m not nervous.”
Her brow lifted, unimpressed. “Bea.”
“I’m not,” I insisted, even as my stomach twisted tighter. “I haven’t seen her like this. Ever. Not once.”
Micah’s expression softened. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”
“That’s exactly the point,” I groaned, dragging a hand through my hair. “Lo doesn’t do this. She doesn’t date. She doesn’t bring people into her life unless they matter.”
“Which means he matters.”
I didn’t answer right away because that was the part I couldn’t quite settle around.
Lo had always been constant. Solid. Mine in a way that didn’t need to be questioned. Even when everything else shifted—schools, cities, expectations—she had stayed exactly where I needed her to be.
And now there was someone else stepping into that space.
For a second, I clung to the fantasy version of things I’d crafted years ago without ever saying out loud. Lo running off for a while, letting herself breathe, proving to my father that she had a life beyond him. He’d regret it. He’d convince her to take him back. They’d find their way to each other again somewhere far from home—somewhere meaningful, somewhere that felt like them—and everything would fall back into place the way it was supposed to.
But even as the thought formed, it didn’t sit right anymore. It felt small. Distant. Like something I’d outgrown without realizing it.
“I just don’t want things to change,” I admitted finally. “But I know they will.”
Micah’s mouth curved, something almost fond threading through her expression. “Nothing is going to change between you and Lo, Bea. You know that.”
I let out a breath that felt heavier than it should’ve.
“And if this goes sideways,” she continued, without missing a beat. “I will absolutely ruin his life for you. Psych major, remember? I’ll dismantle him emotionally.”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it, the tension cracking just enough. “That’s comforting.”