Chapter 40
Johnny
The tie won’t sit right.
I’ve redone it three times, and it still looks like shit. I blame the mirror. Or the lighting. Or maybe the fact that I shouldn’t be getting ready for a wedding that wasn’t supposed to actually happen.
I toss the damn thing onto the dresser with more force than necessary. My reflection stares back at me with tired eyes and stiff shoulders like I’m bracing for a punch that never comes.
The tux is custom. The watch, vintage. The cufflinks could pay someone’s rent. But none of it fits right. Because none of this is real.
I run a hand through my hair and stare down the empty groom suite. Just me, and the thick, echoing silence of everything I’ve sacrificed for this moment.
There’s a single knock. Then, the door creaks open.
Walter steps in like he owns the place. No hesitation, just that calm, smug swagger, reeking of cologne and concealed rot.
“Getting cold feet?” he asks, lips twitching like he already knows the answer.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
He walks over to the bar cart and pours himself a drink, swirling it like he’s settling into some twisted fireside chat. “You don’t look fine.”
I lean back against the dresser. “You here for the pre-show pep talk?”
He chuckles. “No. I’m here because something smells off. And I don’t like surprises.”
I keep my expression flat. “It’s a wedding. There are always surprises.”
He hums, sets the drink down without touching it. “You know, Rachel’s convinced this day means something to you.”
I say nothing. Not confirming. Not denying. Silence is safer.
“She’s practically floating. Talking about the honeymoon. Playing bride like she was born for this moment. You’ve got her good.”
“I’m glad she’s happy.” My smile is thin and practiced.
Walter studies me. “Are you?”
I meet his gaze, remaining cool and calm. “Of course.”
He takes a step closer. “Funny. It’s hard to tell when your eyes keep drifting to someone else. Blonde now, isn’t she? As of yesterday?”
My body stills. Just for a second. But he sees it.
He smirks. “Thought you could hide her? The little stray stepsister. Lina.”
Her name in his mouth makes me want to rip out his tongue.
“This isn’t the time,” I grind out.
“No,” he says, voice lower now. “If it were, I’d make you an offer. She’s got a face that fetches top dollar. That pout? Those eyes? That body?”
He whistles. “Overseas? She’d go for six figures easy. Some rich fuck who likes them already broken in.”
Rage detonates in my chest.
I grab him by the collar and slam him into the wall. The glass crashes to the floor, shards skittering across tile.
“You ever talk about her like that again—”
“What?” he sneers. “You’ll kill me? Right here? In your tux?”
I cock my fist. “Try me.”
BANG.
The gunshot rips through the air. Close. Too close.
My heart stops.
Lina.
I shove Walter away, stumbling back from him, my head whipping toward the door like I can somehow see through it. I don’t care about the plan, or Rachel, or Walter’s threats. My only thought is her.
“Lina,” I breathe, already moving for the hallway.
I make it two steps before pain explodes at the base of my skull. There’s a flash of white. A roaring in my ears. And then, a memory from eight years ago plays behind my eyes…
I sit on the bed next to Lina. I’m ashamed of what I need to tell her next, but I’m trying to explain. Trying to be honest.
“My PTSD from the whole ordeal manifests as possessive behavior. When I have something good, I hold onto it for dear life, because I get scared that it could be taken from me at any moment. I get jealous. Clingy. Not a good version of myself.”
I take a deep breath.
“I started having feelings for you at Halloween. Watching you dance with Axel and Nik? I wanted to rip them apart. Make you mine. Lock you away so no one else could touch you. And the next day, I hated myself for it. I knew I’d ruin everything…
my friendships, you… if I acted on those feelings.
Maybe you wouldn’t have hated me at first, but you would have grown to resent me.
My fear of losing you would’ve suffocated you. So, I shut you out instead.”
I watch the emotions play across her beautiful face, as she processes every word.
“But, you haven’t been like that with Tasha,” she points out.
My cheeks heat, and I can’t look at her when I say, “We broke up a week ago. And I wasn’t like that with her because I didn’t see her as long-term.”
Her breath catches.
“And you could see us being long-term?” she asks softly.
“Couldn’t you?” I counter.
Of course I could. Her being mine. Me loving her the way she deserves. Fiercely. Without apology.
“Yes,” she finally says. “You’re my person. Whether we’re together or just friends.”
A tear slips down her cheek, and she gives me a watery smile.
“Maybe we’re not meant to be right now. Or maybe not ever. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”
“And you’re my person too. No matter what,” I say, pulling her into my arms.
I cling to her, wishing the timing was different. Wishing we were.
Sometimes, you meet the right person at the wrong time, and that just has to be ok. Even when it feels like it won’t be.
Sometimes, all you get is that hug. That moment. That goodbye.
Darkness swallows me whole, and all I can think is that I didn’t get my goodbye.