She made it clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.
And I didn’t want to be the guy who kept showing up when he wasn’t wanted.
Still, part of me kept replaying that night in her apartment over and over. The way she looked at me like I’d shattered everything. The things she said. The way she didn’t even flinch when I told her I loved her.
It made me feel like a fucking fool.
I couldn’t even tell if I was mad at her or just heartbroken.
Maybe both.
I sighed, let my head fall back against the wall, and closed my eyes. Just for a second.
Then there was a knock downstairs.
I froze.
It was late. Too late for deliveries and my parents were out helping Brooke set up for tomorrow. My siblings were probably at some party. No one was supposed to be here. Everyone else had a key.
The knock came again.
I pushed myself up slowly and padded down the stairs, heart in my throat for reasons I didn’t want to name.
When I opened the door, I didn’t expect to see her. Standing on my porch like a ghost I’d spent weeks trying to forget.
She looked tired. Not in the “long day” kind of way, but like sleep hadn’t found her in a while. Her hair was pulled up like she didn’t bother to fix it. She had no makeup on. No armor.
Just Alana.
Raw and real and completely wrecked.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
And I couldn’t breathe either.
“Hey,” she said eventually, softly.
“Hey.”
Alana looked down at her shoes. “Can I come in?”
I stepped aside, and she walked in slow, careful like she didn’t want to take up too much space. Like she wasn’t sure she should’ve come here.
I closed the door behind her and leaned against it.
“I’ve been meaning to do this for a while,” she said, turning to face me. “But I kept… chickening out.”
I said nothing. I was too scared if I spoke, it would break the moment.
To be honest, part of me wasn’t sure she was even real. I mean, it had been weeks and there was no way she would’ve shown up at my parents’ place out of the blue.
Shit, was I hallucinating?
Alana took a shaky breath and looked me dead in the eyes.
“I was afraid,” she admitted. “That if I let my feelings win—if I letuswin—we’d fall again. I’m so used to everything going wrong in my life that I couldn’t believe the one thing that felt good. It was too good to be true, so I ruined it before it could ruin me.”
My throat tightened, but I stayed quiet. Let her speak.