Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
At the time, I’d counted down the days until I could leave. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
Now, the thought of walking out that door feels like a kick to the gut.
I smooth out a shirt before folding it neatly and placing it on top of the pile in my bag. My fingers linger on the fabric, and my throat tightens as I stare at the open zipper. Each piece of clothing I add feels like another goodbye I’m not ready for.
I don’t want to go.
Not anymore.
At some point, without realizing it, being here with Bridger started to feel like home. Not the kind I grew up in, but the kind I’d always hoped for. Safe, warm, full of something I can’t quite put into words.
With him.
But safe is a lie, isn’t it?
A fleeting illusion.
Especially when the fragile trust we’ve been building is fractured.
A few days ago, everything felt precariously close to perfect. Now, it feels like I’m standing on shattered glass, every step slicing deeper.
The sharp buzz of my phone on the nightstand cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I hesitate, my hand hovering in the air, my heart pounding.
I reach for it and swipe at the screen. ColdAsIce17’s name lights it up like a beacon. The familiar sight makes my chest ache. It’s a mix of comfort and something far more complicated.
I tap the message open and hold my breath as his words appear.
ColdAsIce17
You’ve been seeing someone, right?
I frown.
Me
Yes. How did you know?
ColdAsIce17
Not important. Do you care about him?
The message stares back at me, sharp and loaded. I sit down on the edge of the bed, my heart sinking like a stone, as my thoughts churn. Finally, I type out the truth, my chest tightening as I hit send.
Me
I do. But I’m pretty sure it’s over.
The reply comes back immediately.
ColdAsIce17
Is that what you want?
The weight of his question presses down on me, making it harder to breathe. I stare at the screen, my eyes burning with the threat of tears as I wrestle with the answer.
Do I want this to be over?
No. It’s not what I want.
Not at all.
But what does it matter when everything feels broken beyond repair?
My thumbs move before I can stop them.
Me
No.
The silence that follows feels endless, each second stretching painfully thin. I wait, half hoping for another message, half terrified of what it might say. When my phone finally buzzes, the words on the screen make my heart stutter.
ColdAsIce17
Do you think he cares for you?
My throat constricts as I reread the question.
Do I think Bridger cares for me?
After everything that’s happened, I don’t know anymore.
I force myself to type the truth.
Me
I’m not sure.
This time, the pause is longer.
Long enough for doubt to creep in and make me second-guess everything. My gaze drifts to the half-packed duffel bag on the bed. Maybe I should just grab it and go before Bridger returns.
It would be easier that way, wouldn’t it?
Less messy. We can go back to avoiding each other.
That thought has a stab of pain pricking at me.
My phone buzzes, cutting through the storm in my head.
ColdAsIce17
Maybe you should open the door and find out.
My brow furrows, confusion rippling through me. My fingers tremble as I type back.
Me
What?
The response is instant, almost demanding.
ColdAsIce17
Open the door, Holland, and find out.
The air in the room seems to thin as realization slams into me. My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out everything else as my gaze shoots to Bridger’s bedroom door.
Another buzz.
ColdAsIce17
Well? What are you waiting for?
The moment feels surreal, like it’s happening to someone else as I push to my feet. My mind races with a thousand possibilities, but none of them make the least bit of sense. The knob feels cold under my hand, my palm clammy with sweat as I twist it slowly. Each second has my heart pounding harder.
The door swings open.
And there he is.
Bridger stands in the hallway with his phone in hand. His gray eyes are locked on mine, steady and unwavering, but there’s something different in them. A softness I’ve never seen before.
Vulnerability.
I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, we’re standing inches apart, unspoken words hanging between us.
“Hi,” he says, his voice quiet.
A sob bursts free from my chest before I can stop it. Without thinking, I throw myself into his arms, my hands clutching at his neck as if he’s a lifeline. He pulls me against him with a fierceness that undoes me.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out against his shoulder, the words tumbling from my lips in a rush. “I should have told you the truth when I found out. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hands steadying me as his gaze meets mine. His expression is raw, stripped bare in a way that makes my heart ache. “I know,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I talked to Garret. And now that I’ve had time to process it, I understand. I get why you didn’t tell me.”