CHAPTER fifty-four #3
Cici keeps going, because of course she does. "But hey, guess New York did you good." She gestures vaguely at my body. "I mean, look at you—lost all that weight." She smirks. "How much did you drop? Two hundred pounds?"
She snickers like she's just delivered the joke of the century.
I wasn't even close to that big—but accuracy was never her thing. Cruelty was.
I breathe in slowly. They think they still have the power to gut me. They honestly believe their words will land like they used to.
But all I feel is this dull, distant pity.
For them.
For how small their world must be.
For how little they've grown.
And God, for whatever poor baby is about to be raised by these two clowns.
Tyler's gaze crawls over me again, lingering in places that make my skin prickle with disgust. "You've really changed," he says, leaning in. "Got all... thin. Pretty, even." His lips curl into something between a smile and a leer. "Hot."
I nearly gag.
"If you don't quit looking at her like that, I'll carve those eyes out while you're still conscious enough to watch me do it."
That growl—low, dangerous—comes from behind me.
Zach.
He steps in front of me instantly, crowding into my space like a wall of muscle built out of pure mine. His jaw is tight, shoulders squared, anger rolling off him in waves as he stares Tyler down.
Tyler freezes. Gum stops. That stupid smirk stutters.
Cici, meanwhile, lights up like Times Square. She literally lifts her chest, repositions her hair, and smiles like he just arrived to pick her up.
"Zach! Fancy meeting you here," she says in a sugary-high pitch, completely forgetting her boyfriend is standing right next to her.
Zach doesn't acknowledge her. Not even a twitch.
His eyes stay locked on Tyler.
Tyler's lips stretch into something that's more grimace than grin. "Sup, Z. Long time, man. What's with the..." He gestures vaguely at Zach's squared shoulders and planted feet. "Whole bouncer vibe."
Zach's jaw tightens. "Maybe it's the way you're eyeballing my girlfriend like you're trying to strip her with your eyes. Fix it before I do."
"Gi—girlfriend?!"
Cici screeches. Her gaze flies from me to Zach, then back to me as though the math isn't mathing. "What?!"
Zach finally shifts—just enough to pull me snug against his side, his arm tightening around my waist.
"Yeah," he says, firm and proud. "Girlfriend. Caroline's my girlfriend."
I bite back a smug grin so hard my cheeks hurt.
The look on Cici's face is... glorious.
Pure confusion, outrage, disbelief — the whole "how is this possible" meltdown happening in real time. Her tiny hamster wheel of a brain is spinning so fast it's overheating.
Three years ago?
That expression would've gutted me.
Because she's right — Zach was the golden boy, the dream guy, the one everyone wanted. And I... wasn't someone anyone fought to stand next to.
But that girl is gone.
And this? This is a truth she'll never swallow:
Zach chose me. Loves me. Wants me.
Not her. Not ever her.
Cici scoffs. "You're lying! I know you, Zach.
You were the captain, the most popular guy in school—you could have ANYONE.
" She gestures at me like she's pointing at a mismatched sock.
"And she's a nobody. She never suited you.
Sure, she lost weight, so what? It's not like she won't gain it all back. "
Her eyes drop to the items in my cart—snacks, candy, the cornbread mix Zach insisted on—and she smirks cruelly.
"By the looks of it, pretty soon she'll be rolling around again."
I actually bark out a laugh.
Zach does not.
"What did you just say?"
His voice is low. Deadly. Vibrating with the effort it takes not to go to jail today.
Cici steps behind Tyler, suddenly tiny.
"I—I'm just telling the truth," she stammers.
"Dude, relax. Stop getting all worked up—you remember what she looked like before. You definitely downgrade—"
That's when Zach snaps.
His body surges forward just enough to send Tyler stumbling back half a step. His fists curl. His whole stance changes—predator ready to pounce.
I grab his wrist fast. "Zach," I whisper, urgent. "No. Not here."
His breathing is hard, shallow. But he hears me. He looks down at me, not them. And something in his eyes softens just enough for the storm to pause.
I slip my hand fully into his. "Please."
Tyler mutters under his breath, "Man, you used to have taste. So, it's just a bit disappoint—"
Zach straightens again, eyes dead cold now. "Yeah," he says. "And I still do. "Which is why I wouldn't touch the trash you two grew up to be even with a ten-foot stick."
Cici gasps.
Tyler's face reddens.
Zach slings his arm over my shoulders again, tugging me against him.
"And as for my girl? She's out of your league. Always has been. Always will be."
I swear the entire checkout lane goes silent. Even the barcode scanner seems to pause.
And that's when I step forward.
Because old me would've cried.
Old me would've shrunk.
Old me would've let them walk all over her.
Not anymore.
"You know, it's almost impressive," I say, keeping my voice steady, "how after all these years, you two have managed not to grow up even an inch."
Cici stiffens.
Tyler's jaw ticks.
I cross my arms. "And the sad part? You still think that kind of insult works."
"You're about to become parents," I add, nodding at the bump Cici keeps stroking like a prop, "and you're still acting like the only way to feel good about yourselves is to tear someone else down."
Tyler opens his mouth, but I lift a finger.
"No, really, I mean it. It's sad. Not even pathetic—just sad.
You're both stuck in this weird loop where the only thing that gives you any self-worth is ranking everyone else's looks or mocking someone who doesn't fit into your tiny, miserable definition of 'acceptable. '"
Their faces flicker—confusion first, then discomfort, then a flash of something like embarrassment when they realize the people around us are watching.
But I'm not done.
"And the wildest part?" I tilt my head. "People like me used to think we had to take it. That we were the problem. But you're the ones who haven't changed. Three years and you're still stuck in the same rut. Everyone sees it; they just don't want to be your next target."
Cici gives a brittle, shaky laugh. "God, get over yourself."
"Maybe you should try it," I say softly. "Getting over yourselves. Might be the first adult thing you've ever done."
Zach squeezes my waist—firm, proud, like he wants to lift me right off the floor.
Cici's face flames red. She tries to glare, but it wobbles.
Tyler scoffs. "Whatever."
He loops his arm around her and starts pushing the cart away, but not before shooting Zach one last glare..
Zach glares back harder. "See you on the ice Friday, Ty," There's a warning buried under every syllable. "Hope you can take a hit as well as you talk."
Tyler's face drains of color immediately.
As they disappear down the aisle, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "Well. That was... peachy."
Zach leans down and presses a soft kiss to my temple. "Proud of you," he murmurs.
A slow smile pulls at my lips. "Yeah," I say. "Me too."
*****
Later that evening, we're sitting cross-legged on the floor of Zach's living room, surrounded by an army of colorful loot bags. The TV hums in the background, the Panthers–Flyers game just started over an hour ago.
Normally, Zach would be shouting at the screen by now — chirping players he hates, praising plays he likes, giving me commentary no one asked for.
But tonight... nothing.
He's quiet. Too quiet.
I pause mid-bag-stuffing and glance at him. He's tying a ribbon around a bag, eyes fixed on nothing, jaw tight in that way he gets when his brain is spiraling.
"What're you thinking about?" I ask softly.
He doesn't react at first — like he's underwater, too deep to hear me — until my fingers slip gently through his chocolate-brown hair.
That gets him.
His shoulders drop, and the corners of his mouth tug into a tiny, soft smile. He leans just a little into my hand, like a touch-starved puppy.
"Hm?" He finally blinks up at me. "Did you say something, babe?"
I huff a laugh. "Yeah. I asked what you're thinking. You're awfully quiet tonight."
"Oh."
His brow twitches, like he's debating whether to tell me or not. He's quiet for a moment and then he speaks again, "I'm sorry."
His voice comes out low. Rough. Like gravel coated in regret.
"Sorry for what, babe?"
He shifts, turning toward me fully. He takes the hand in his hair and brings it into both of his. His eyes lift to mine, solemn and searching.
"For not protecting you enough," he says quietly. "Back then. In high school."
His words catch me off guard.
It just dawns on me that the reason why he's been so quiet tonight is because of our run-in with Cici and Tyler at the grocery store earlier.
I had no idea that encounter was still weighing on him so heavily.
The whole time we've been home, he's been replaying it in his mind while I've been oblivious.
"I've been sitting here thinking about everything they said today... and everything they used to say to you."
His voice dips, low and rough.
"And all I can think is—I should've done more. Back then... I should've protected you better. I replay it sometimes and it just—"His jaw tightens.
"It feels like I failed you."
My heart sinks and swells at the same time.
"Oh, Zach..."
I cup his cheek, and he melts into my palm instantly — like his whole body exhales at my touch. His lashes flutter shut for a moment, his cheek pressing deeper into my hand like he's trying to live inside that softness.
"You did protect me," I whisper.
He shakes his head, eyes opening again, guilt storming inside them. "Not enough."
"You did," I repeat firmly. "In your own Zach way."
His brows pinch, confused.