Chapter 40
DARE
I’d start at the beginning again if it meant he’d meet me there.
I shouldn’t have looked. I knew what it would do to me. But I looked anyway.
The caption read: Celebrating launch night with my favorite crew.
My stomach twisted.
The likes rolled in. The comments. Rainbow hearts, clapping hands, confetti. One from Jasper: You’re unreal. One from Tru, right beneath it, with a damn kissy emoji.
It felt like getting punched in the ribs with no bruise to show for it, just that hollow, breathless ache.
I closed the app, reopened it, and closed it again.
Tried to tell myself it was nothing. That Tru loved me.
He said it was only for the summer. That he’d turned Jasper down.
He would’ve told me if he hadn’t. Right?
I called him, but there was no answer. Texted: Hope the launch went great. But I got nothing back.
My chest throbbed the way it had the first time I kissed him—when I realized what I stood to lose. And now I might actually be losing it. Losing him.
I used to think love was a straight line—meet, fall, hold on tight.
But with Tru, it’s always been a loop. Past bleeding into present.
Regret stitched through every memory.
And still, I’d go back. Every damn time.
I couldn’t sit in that room another second, surrounded by the sketches he’d left taped to the walls. The hoodie he’d borrowed the night before he left, still hanging over my chair, still smelling like him because I refused to wash it.
Nope. I had to get out.
Panic, jealousy, and hurt crashed together in my chest, all of them fighting for space until I thought I might shatter just trying to breathe. I threw my phone onto the bed and screamed, voice cracking against the walls.
“Goddamn you, Tru! Fuck! We promised forever! We fucking pissed and spit on that shit. Why?”
Jackson, my roommate, pulled off his headphones, eyebrows shooting up. “Damn, you’re into some freaky shit, huh? Keep it to yourself, Carter. Watersports ain’t my kink, ya know?”
Jesus Christ. I dragged both hands down my face, exhaling hard, fighting back a laugh that broke somewhere between humor and hysteria.
Mom and Dad were arguing about the grill. The neighborhood kids were already sticky with popsicles, running barefoot in the cul-de-sac. I hadn’t said more than two words to anyone since I got there. I’d been sleeping late, skipping the gym, and spending every night scrolling until my eyes blurred.
I was slumped over the kitchen counter, watching condensation slide down a glass of lemonade, when Charlotte walked in.
“Why do you look like someone drowned your puppy?” she asked, grabbing a grape from the bowl and popping it into her mouth.
It hurt how similar she looked to Tru. Same blue eyes, the color of a Carolina sky, same white-blond hair and pale skin.
She shrugged and slid into the seat next to mine. “Talk to me, Dare. Catch me up.”
“I’m not moping.”
“You totally are.”
I huffed. She swung her feet, the silence stretching easily between us until she said softly, “You know, I told you once that I’d be here if you ever wanted to talk.”
A dry laugh caught in my throat. “Yeah. Took me a few years to take you up on it.”
“It was worth the wait,” she said, voice light but her eyes soft. “You were so locked up back then. Angry and scared. I knew you had to figure things out in your own time.” She nudged my arm gently. “And look at you. Figuring them out.”
I stared at the floor. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
“You miss him.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. I nodded, barely.
Charlotte exhaled slowly. “I always knew.”
My head snapped up. “Knew what?”
“That this wasn’t just a phase or some rebellion,” she said. “You’ve loved him since before you had the words for it. You just didn’t know how to let yourself.”
I tried to laugh, but it caught in my throat. “I love him,” I admitted. It came out cracked and small but truer than anything I’d ever said. “God, I love him.”
She smiled, warm, proud, and a little teary. “I know,” she whispered. “And he loves you too. You don’t have to chase him, Dare. Just give him time. He knows where home is.”
Her hand covered mine, her reassurance seeping into my skin. I couldn’t look at her. My throat burned, shoulders shaking with repressed emotions.
Is that what you wanted, Tru? The truth? For me to finally say it without fear or hiding or shame?
Fine. Here it is—I’ve always been in love with you. I’m still in love with you. So please… just come home.
It’s strange how quiet the world is when your person isn’t in it. Everything’s a little muffled. A little off. Even joy’s afraid to speak too loud without permission.
Outside, the scent of charcoal and sizzling meat drifted through the air.
It was hot out, sticky in the way North Carolina always got in July, but the breeze off the pool made it bearable.
My dad stood at the grill in his usual faded Grill Master apron, flipping burgers with an ease I didn’t remember him ever having.
He looked… relaxed. Happy.
Charlotte floated on an inflatable lounger, lazily kicking one foot in the water, sunglasses perched low enough on her nose to keep an eye on everything, me included.
I stretched out in a lawn chair, nursing a soda, too restless to eat. My dad laughed at something she said, a full-bodied laugh that creased his eyes and reddened his cheeks. He reached over and tapped her bare foot with the spatula in a playful, teasing way I’d never seen before.
That man? That wasn’t the dad I grew up with.
The dad I remembered was tired all the time, quick to snap, always storming off or slamming cabinet doors. I used to think he was mean just to be mean, but maybe it wasn’t about me at all. Maybe it never was.
Maybe it was the way my mom tore into him, always loud, cutting, and relentless. Maybe he didn’t know how to fight back without losing something of himself in the process. Maybe by the time she left, he was already too defeated and empty to be anything but angry.
But here, now, with Charlotte… he looked like someone who’d gotten a second chance and finally figured out how to be soft.
Charlotte paddled closer, gripping the brick edge, and pushed her sunglasses up into her curls. “You look like you’re thinking too hard,” she said with a smirk. “That’s dangerous.”
I shrugged and tipped my soda toward the grill. “He’s different.”
She followed my gaze. “Yeah. He is.”
“I don’t remember him like that.”
“Maybe you didn’t get to see him like this before,” she said. “Took him a while to become who he is now.” Then, after a beat, she said, “Kind of like someone else I know.”
I huffed out a weak laugh and looked away, but she wasn’t done.
“So,” she said, grinning behind her glass. “You gonna tell him?”
I froze. “Tell who what?”
“Don’t make me say it.”
Later, after everyone had eaten and the sun had started its slow crawl toward the tree line, I found him alone.
Dad stood by the shed, wiping grease off the grill tongs.
His shoulders were a little rounder than I remembered.
There was silver in his beard now, but his posture was looser, like he’d finally laid down something heavy.
I hovered at the edge of the patio before stepping into the grass.
He glanced up when he heard me coming. “Hey, kid.” His voice was easy, not the gruff bark it used to be.
“Need help with that?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Just about done.” He paused. “But I wouldn’t mind the company.”
So, I stayed.
We didn’t say much at first. Crickets buzzed in the hedges. The occasional pop of fireworks went off in the distance. It reminded me of the rare quiet nights when things weren’t awful—when we’d sit in the garage, not talking much, just existing.
I rocked back on my heels. “You seem happy.”
He glanced at me, a little startled. “Yeah,” he said. “I am.”
“What changed?”
He wiped his hands on a towel and leaned against the fence. “I stopped trying to be someone I’m not. Started listening more. Fighting less. Let go of a lot of old anger.”
“You’re different,” I said.
“I had to be.” He hesitated. “I know I wasn’t the best father when you were younger. I was angry at your mom, at the situation, at myself. I didn’t always know how to show up.”
I swallowed hard. “I used to think you hated me.”
His face fell. “I never hated you, Dare. I hated how helpless I felt. And I hated that you had to see me that way.”
“I used to think… maybe if I was different, it would’ve been easier.”
He shook his head. “You were never the problem.”
Silence fell, thick but not painful.
I’d been afraid of the truth for so long that it stopped feeling true, just something I made up to scare myself.
Then I heard myself say it. “I’m in love with a boy.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. I waited for the recoil, the disappointment, but it didn’t come.
“Is it mutual?” he asked.
“Yeah. At least, it was. I think it still is.”
“You miss him?”
“Every day.”
“Does he know?”
“Not the way I want him to.”
Dad clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Then tell him. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that pride will leave you alone faster than love ever will.”
I blinked back a rush of emotion and nodded. And for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, I felt seen by him.
Dad gave my shoulder a firm squeeze before pulling away. He leaned against the fence again, arms crossed, watching the fireflies blink in the hedge like any ordinary summer evening. As if he hadn’t just knocked the air out of my lungs with his acceptance.
“Call him, Darien. Tell Tru what he needs to hear.”
My head snapped toward him. “How do you—?”
He just smiled. That same serene, wise smile Charlotte wore when she knew something before I said it out loud.
“You really think I didn’t notice?” he asked, turning to face me fully. “The way you lit up every time that boy was around. How miserable you’ve been since he left.”
His confession left me stunned silent. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was supposed to shout, throw something, look at me with disappointment on his face. He wasn’t supposed to be… decent.
“He was always more than a friend. Even when you were kids, you looked at him like he was the sun and you were daring it not to burn you.”
I exhaled slowly. “I was a jerk to him. For years.”
Dad nodded. “I know. And I’m not saying it’ll be easy to fix. But if you love him, and what you have is worth salvaging…” He shrugged. “Then damn it, don’t waste more time.”
I stared down at my phone in my hand. It felt heavier than it should. “He might not pick up.”
“Then leave a message. Or write him something. Whatever it is, say it. Because you don’t get forever to speak your heart.”
The grill was cold. Fireworks burst in the distance, but none of it touched me like this did.
“Thanks,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “I’m proud of you, Dare.”
I swallow against the lump rising in my throat. “You sure?”
“Hell yeah. Took me half a lifetime to figure myself out. You’re doing it a lot faster.”
The ache in my chest lightened—still there, but not strangling.
Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to tell Tru everything.