Chapter 48
Chapter forty-eight
Liv
I wipe at my face, unsure what’s rain and what’s tears, but keep walking. My feet take me to the only person who’s ever made sense when everything else doesn’t.
When Daphne opens her door, she takes one look at me and doesn’t ask a single question. She just pulls me in, arms tight, the smell of baby powder and coffee wrapping around me like a blanket.
My heart leaps into my throat as she holds me and doesn’t let go. I cry into her shoulder and don’t stop until she carefully moves us inside her apartment, closing the door behind me.
Hudson’s on the couch, Rosie asleep against his chest, a movie paused on the screen. He shifts upright, eyes scanning me, cautious. “Everything okay, Liv?”
The laugh that escapes sounds foreign, cracked, as I wipe my eyes. “Not really.”
Daphne steers me to a chair. “What’s wrong?”
I tell them everything. How Rhys was there today. How Bethany was his daughter, and I’d spent all day with her. How every ounce of progress I thought I’d made disappeared in a heartbeat. I’d promised myself that wouldn’t happen, and yet one encounter with him, and I lost all control.
Daphne’s face tightens, outrage flickering under her calm. “Did he even say anything? Like an apology?”
I shake my head. “No. And the worst part is, I don’t think I care. I thought I would, thought I needed to hear it on some level, but I don’t.”
She blinks. “You don’t?”
I rub my palms against my jeans, grounding myself.
“I don’t want anything from him. Not an apology.
Not closure. Nothing. Because all of that would still give him space in my life, and I’m done letting him have that.
I spent so long carrying it,” I say quietly.
“The guilt, the what-ifs, the version of me that let it all happen. But I don’t feel that anymore.
I don’t feel anything for him. And that’s… relief, I guess.”
Daphne squeezes my hand, her thumb moving in small circles. “I’m so proud of you.”
I exhale, my shoulders finally dropping. “I just don’t want him anywhere near the life I’m building now. I changed my number when I moved here. I’ve already blocked Bethany. That whole part of my life is… gone.”
He doesn’t get to ruin anything else for me. Not when I finally feel like myself again. Not when I finally feel safe.
Daphne smiles, quiet but proud. “That’s my girl.”
I let out a shaky laugh, pressing my palms together. “About time, right?”
“About time,” she echoes.
***
When I finally leave their place, my Uber is waiting, and I dash inside to avoid the rain. There’s no storm tonight, but the air feels alive with ions all the same, and a part of me wonders if I should’ve walked and let it rinse the rest of the day off me.
When I get home, though, I’m greeted by the sound of my sleepy kitty. “Hello, Mr. Fury kitty,” I murmur, bending to scoop him up. He blinks up at me, all half-lidded contentment, and purrs as soon as I scratch under his chin. “You’re the best boy, you know that?”
He answers with another loud meow that makes me laugh before it morphs into a yawn.
The scent of the apartment wraps around me as I walk farther inside, faintly of my vanilla candle and the laundry I left folded on the sofa.
It’s familiar and safe, and I just breathe for a second, not taking that feeling for granted.
There are so many reminders of the life I’ve built here and how lucky I’ve been.
I can’t imagine living alone now that I’ve lived with Jay; there are reminders of him, of us, everywhere.
And it feels… steady. Like evidence that connection doesn’t have to break me.
That maybe I’m allowed to want something that feels this good.
Nick’s little paws knead into my shoulder like he knows I need the contact. Sometimes I think he senses my moods better than any human ever has. I set him down and move through the apartment, peeling off my damp sweater and heading to the bathroom.
There’s a buzz beneath my skin as I turn the shower on, steam slowly curling in the air.
When the water hits my skin, it’s warm and heavy at the same time, drawing all that tension from my body as I melt into it.
The sound of it drowns everything else, a steady drum against tile that lets my thoughts loosen one by one.
My scalp tingles as heat spreads across my shoulders, and for the first time all day, I feel my breath go all the way down to my ribs instead of getting stuck halfway.
I close my eyes and let myself believe that everything is going to be okay.
A year ago, hell, even six months ago, a day like today would’ve broken me.
I would’ve been that girl who called someone I didn’t care about just to feel something other than despair for the night.
I took myself for granted so many times.
When I got here, I tried to do something similar by going on dates that meant nothing, but I was desperately searching for something, anything to stop the loneliness.
All I was doing was trying to forget. And the worst part is that none of it even worked.
I’d come home from those dates feeling more hollow than when I’d left, peeling off nice clothes I didn’t feel like myself in and wondering why wanting to feel better only made everything ache more.
I didn’t want the people I was reaching for; I just didn’t want to be alone with my own head.
And admitting that now makes something inside me pinch with both shame and relief.
Because then something happened. Jay became my friend, and he cared.
He never asked me to talk, he’d just bring me iced tea, cook me dinners, and listen when I talked about random shit.
He made space for me to exist in all my flaws.
Somewhere along the way, that started to heal the parts I always thought were unfixable.
Somewhere along the way, I felt more myself again, definitely not perfect, but still me.
It was slow in the way sunlight creeps across a room, touching everything before you even realize.
It was the quiet nights working at the same table, his shoulder brushing mine when he reached for something, him listening to me rant about classes like every word was interesting.
It was him showing up, again and again, without me having to ask.
And somehow, all those tiny moments stitched me back together in places I didn’t even know were torn.
The idea of telling him how I feel doesn’t terrify me.
Probably because he’s never asked for anything from me.
He didn’t need me to be better, funnier, or easier to love; he just let me be me, and he’ll never know how much that means.
So telling him as much feels inevitable.
I just hope and pray that tomorrow I keep the same courage to say it out loud.
It’s strange—wanting someone and not feeling like I’m bracing for impact.
Wanting him feels steady, like stepping into sunlight after a long winter.
I’ve never told anyone how I feel without fear chewing at me, but with him, it almost feels like breathing. Like something I’m supposed to do.
By the time I step out of the shower, my skin is flushed, but my mind is calm and focused on seeing him tomorrow.
Slipping into one of his hoodies that still smells like him, I pull my hair into a loose braid and let the calm wash over me as I settle on the sofa.
His scent clings to the fabric—that mix of cedarwood and detergent.
I tug the hoodie tighter around me and feel something flutter low in my stomach.
I sleep better in his clothes. Hell, I sleep better wrapped around him.
I’ve never admitted that to anyone, not even myself, until this moment, but it’s the truth.
Nick sees that as his opportunity to join me, and I snuggle him closer.
Pulling out my phone, I snap a picture and send it to Jay with an apology for being quiet today.
My thumb hovers over the send button for a full second, my heart thudding harder than it should for something so small.
I imagine him seeing it, imagine the tiny smile he gets when he reads something from me, the one that softens his whole face.
I imagine him thinking of me right now, the same way I’m thinking of him.
I could call him, but I know I’ll end up blurting something I’d rather say in person. The picture will have to do.
Then tomorrow, he’s all mine.