Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Xavier
The garage smells like oil and regret.
I wipe my hands on a rag, not bothering to check whether the grease comes off.
It doesn’t matter. Nothing does. Not since Izzy left.
Austin is next to me, elbow-deep in the engine of my race car, but I’m not really here.
Not in my head. Not in my chest. I’m just… existing. Going through the motions.
Austin’s phone rings. I barely hear it at first. I keep tightening a bolt like it’s the only thing keeping me together. But then I hear his voice change. Not in words, just in tone. Pain.
I glance over. Austin's posture is stiff, his eyes darkening as he listens to whoever’s on the other end. Then he stands and walks outside. That pulls me back to the present. Austin has never stepped away for a call. Never acts like he has anything to hide.
I set my wrench down, my heartbeat kicking up. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I don’t need to. I already know.
It’s Izzy. What the hell is she saying to him? Why Austin? Why not me? The weight in my chest presses down, sinking into my ribs like an anchor.
I lean against the car, staring at the half-built engine, and she’s here. Not in reality, but in my head, in every damn part of me.
She used to sit right where Austin had been before he took her call, her legs swinging over the edge of the workbench, wearing my hoodie and wearing a smug little smile because she knew she looked better in it than I ever did.
"You gonna keep pretending I'm not distracting you?" she teased, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.
"You're not distracting me," I shot back, even though she was.
She had this way of making me forget everything else, the car, the time, the fact that we weren’t supposed to be more than whatever-the-hell-we were.
I should have told her then. I should have told her I loved her more than anything or anyone else in the world.
Not after the night I finally thought she was mine, but before that, when I was already hers.
I should have told her she was my everything.
That she wasn’t a distraction. I should have told her she was the only thing that mattered. But I didn’t, and now she’s gone.
The sound of the garage door creaking open jerks me back. Austin steps inside, his face unreadable. He sees me watching him and forces a smile, but it’s the kind of smile that isn’t meant to be believed.
I don’t ask. I don’t need to. Once Austin and I are finished for the night, I pack a bag. I don’t tell anyone where I’m going. I book the next available flight to L.A. and leave. The earliest I can get is the next day, and the second I step off the plane, I feel like I’ve made a mistake.
Los Angeles is too big. Too bright. Too loud. A place for people chasing dreams, fame, or a fresh start.
I stare at the ceiling of the rental car parked outside the bar.
Mia told me Izzy works here part-time. My hands clench the steering wheel like it’s the only thing holding me together.
I release my grip and pull my phone from my pocket.
It’s heavy in my palm. I scroll past her name, My B, knowing she won't pick up. So I tap Mia’s contact instead.
She answers on the third ring, her voice tight with suspicion. “Xavier?”
“Mia.” My voice is rough. “I need your help.”
She sighs immediately, like she already knows what this is about. “I figured. Look, if this is about Izzy.”
“It is.” I cut her off because there’s no point in pretending. “I’m not trying to corner her or force her to do anything.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I’m trying to find her.” I rub the back of my neck. “I just... I need to see her, make sure she’s okay. That’s it.”
“You really think that’s a good idea right now?”
“No.” I close my eyes. “But silence doesn’t feel right either. I’m not showing up to beg or to fix everything in one night. I need to see her. One minute. That’s all.”
She goes quiet. I can hear her breathing, the doubt in it. Then, finally, “You hurt her, Xavier.”
“I know.”
“She won’t say it out loud, but I can see it. She’s been different since that night.”
“I know I should’ve said more. Should’ve followed her. I should’ve…” I stop myself. “I’m not calling to defend myself. I’m asking. Please, Mia.”
There’s another pause. Then she says, softer this time, “On Fridays, she goes to the beach, the one near her dorm, out by the rocks. She watches the sunset.”
I sit up straighter. “She still goes there?”
“She has since she left. Especially when things feel heavy.”
I swallow the knot in my throat. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she says. “If you’re going there, you’d better be damn sure you're ready to face whatever she says, or doesn’t.”
“I’m sure.” My voice doesn’t shake this time.
She exhales slowly. “Good. Don’t mess it up, Xavier. She’s stronger than she thinks, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to be broken again.”
“I’m not here to break her,” I respond. “I’m here to show her I still see her, even when she thinks no one does. I still love her, even if she doesn’t want to believe me.” My voice cracks at the end.
Mia hangs up without another word. I throw the car into gear and head toward the one place where I might still have a chance to reach My B.
The beach in Playa del Rey is quiet this late. The sky burns with the last streaks of sunset, and the ocean turns molten gold. A warm breeze rolls in from the water, carrying the scent of salt, distant bonfires, and something sweet, maybe coconut sunscreen, maybe her.
Then I see Izzy, and I suddenly forget how to breathe. The air gets stuck in my throat, my stomach clenches, and for one insane second, I think about running to her.
Izzy’s sitting in the sand, her arms wrapped around her legs, staring out at the waves. Her skin glows in the fading light, gold and soft, like the sun itself is reaching for her, trying to hold onto her before it disappears. She looks so lost.
My chest tightens, and my feet are stuck. I want to go to her. To say something. Anything. I swallow hard, then step forward before I lose my nerve. I take another step, already picturing how her eyes will widen when she sees me. How her breath will hitch. How we’ll…
Izzy turns, and I freeze in place.
A girl with long blonde hair walks up to her. Izzy turns, and for a second, I think she’ll push the girl away. That she’ll shake her head and say she’s waiting for someone else. Waiting for me. But Izzy smiles. The girl holds out her hand, and Izzy reaches for it.
My heart stops as I watch the two of them walk away together.
Just like that. I can’t breathe. I don’t move.
I can’t. I stand at the edge of the beach like an idiot, watching her walk away and telling myself she’s happy, that she’s better off, that I’ve already caused her enough pain. But it doesn’t stop the ache.
I’m standing where Izzy was, trying to feel her surround me. The waves roll in, lapping at my shoes, cold and indifferent. The sky is darker now, swallowing the last of the light. The ocean keeps moving, as if none of this ever happened, as if she wasn’t here, as if I wasn’t.
My hands curl into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. I could’ve stopped her.
I could’ve called out her name, run after her, and begged her to hear me out.
Instead, I pull out my phone, open Izzy’s contact information, and stare at the picture on the screen, a photo Nolan took of the two of us right before her birthday.
We were happy, we were in love. We thought we had the world by the balls. Until I screwed it all up.
My thumb shakes over the screen. One word. That’s all I have to say. Just her name. Just…
I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t. My thumb hovers over the call button, my pulse hammering in my chest. I want to hear her voice, say something, and fix this.
But I don’t press it. I’m a coward. I tell myself I don’t deserve her. I’m afraid she’ll pick up and tell me to go to hell.
I clench my jaw and shut off my phone. Then I turn around and leave, disappearing into the night as if I were never there at all.