Chapter 41
TRU
This time, we don’t run from the fire. We build something from it.
The morning light cut through the blinds as if it were out for blood. My head throbbed—not from alcohol, but from too much feeling stuffed into too small a space.
I rolled over and groped for my phone without opening my eyes, thumbing the screen out of habit. Just checking notifications. Nothing big.
1 missed call. Voicemail from Dare.
My heart stuttered. I sat up too fast, and the room tilted around me. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until I pressed the voicemail to my ear, bracing myself—wondering if he was about to break my heart again, or somehow tape it back together. With Dare, you never knew.
The recording clicked. His voice came out quiet and raw, stripped of sarcasm or armor. Just him. And hearing that voice—unfiltered, familiar—hurt more than I expected.
“Hey. Uh… I don’t even know if I should be calling, but—”
There was a pause. Background noise filtered through: laughter, a burst of fireworks. He was outside somewhere.
“I told them. Our parents. About me. About us.”
A shaky laugh escaped him, half disbelief, half nerves.
“And they… they took it great. Like, really great. Mom hugged me and said she already knew. My dad just nodded and said, ‘Took you long enough’.”
Another short, uncertain laugh. “Can you believe that? All this time, I was terrified, losing sleep, beating myself up, and for what? For nothing. They were just waiting for me to show up as me.”
A scrape of movement followed, maybe his hand over his face.
“God, Tru. I wasted so much time being scared. Of them. Of myself. Of what it meant to love you. I thought I was protecting something—my family, my future—but I was just… hiding. And I don’t want to hide anymore.”
He exhaled long and low. “You can probably hear the fireworks. It’s stupid, but I guess I wanted to tell you under the same kind of sky we used to watch.”
Another pause. “I saw the picture you posted. You looked happy. I want that for you. I really do. Even if it’s not with me. But, God, Tru—”
His voice cracked, and I felt it pinch my heart painfully.
“I hope it is. Because I love you. I think I’ve loved you since we were kids, even when I was too much of a coward to admit it. I didn’t know how to love you right, but I’m trying now. Please tell me I’m not too late.”
He breathed out, unsteady, like he was forcing himself to hang up before he lost his nerve.
“I’m sorry. For everything. I miss you so much it hurts. And I just needed you to know.”
The line went dead. No goodbye. No plea. Just his truth, finally spoken out loud.
My hand trembled as I lowered the phone. The world carried on—street noise outside, my coffee machine gurgling in the kitchenette—but I sat there in bed, heart split wide open, with Dare’s voice echoing in my ears like a promise I never thought he’d keep.
For the first time in weeks, I missed home. Not the place, just the feeling.
I listened again. Then again. The third time, my breathing was too loud to hear, so I replayed it once more, holding my breath as if that might help.
It didn’t. By the fifth listen, I didn’t even realize I’d hit play again.
His words tore off the bandage of the wound I thought had started to heal. The phone slipped from my hand.
The apartment door clicked shut behind me before I knew where I was going. No jacket. No plan. Just my heart rattling around in my chest like it didn’t belong to me anymore.
Did it ever, though? Or had it always been his?
His voice still rang in my head, even though the message had ended twenty minutes ago.
“I love you. I don’t know how to say it better than that. Just—God, Tru. I miss you. I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”
He’d sounded wrecked. I didn’t know what I expected—that he’d never say it out loud? That he’d keep it locked away forever, thinking he had to?
I never thought knowing he’d come out would hurt more than wondering if he ever would.
The river wasn’t far, so that’s where I ended up. I leaned against the railing, gripping my phone as if I let go, I’d lose him again. The water below was dark and messy and full of movement, kind of like him. Kind of like us.
I’d wanted this, hadn’t I? For him to say it, to admit it. But now that he had, I felt raw.
He said he loved me. Admitted it to our parents. Said it like a truth he couldn’t swallow anymore, like it choked him until saying it out loud was the only way to breathe.
It was everything I’d ever wanted. So why did it feel like goodbye?
I thought about calling him back. But I couldn’t. Not yet. I didn’t know what to say. If I acknowledged what it cost him to say it, to come out, did that mean the ball was in my court now? Did I have to leave New York? Squash the dreams that had taken root inside me since I’d been here?
I pressed the phone to my chest, hoping he could feel it beating from miles away.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
It didn’t fix anything. It didn’t erase the years or the hurt. But it was true. It had always been true.
I sat on a bench until the sky began to lighten, letting it all wash over me—the love, the fear, the fact that I was learning who I was without my soulmate beside me. I missed him so much I could barely breathe.
By the time the sun began cutting through the haze, I was cold and a little numb. I didn’t remember deciding to call, but my thumb scrolled to Mom’s contact, and before I could think, I pressed it.
She answered on the second ring, cheerful as ever. “Well, hey there, stranger.”
“Hey,” I said, my voice rough. “Sorry, it’s early.”
“You kidding? I’ve been up since six. John decided to grill peaches for breakfast. Because apparently that’s a thing now.”
“That’s… ambitious.”
She laughed softly, then her voice gentled, slipping into Mom Mode. “You okay, baby?”
I didn’t know how to answer. So I didn’t. Instead, I asked, “Is everyone okay? Dare?”
Her voice softened even more. “He’s okay, sweetheart. Just quiet. Been moping a bit since he got home.”
I bit my lip. “I got his voicemail.”
There was a pause full of warmth and unspoken understanding.
“He’s trying,” she said at last, her tone careful. “He really wants to be better. For you.”
My throat tightened.
“Dare told us about your relationship,” she added quietly. “He told his dad everything.”
I froze—breath, heart, everything. “I… can’t believe he finally said it out loud.” My mind was blown. Literally. If I looked down, I’d see pieces of it scattered across my shoes. “It went… okay?”
I wasn’t worried about myself; it was Dare. His fear of telling his dad, of saying the words out loud, even to himself. Fuck, I should’ve been there for him. What was I doing here?
A smile threaded through her voice. “He acts like he told us something we didn’t already know. He and his dad are fine.”
My heart thudded loudly in my chest.
“He spent twenty minutes talking about you,” she continued. “About how you used to fix his papers, how you watched his practices even when he was being awful. He didn’t have to say more. We’ve always known.”
I blinked hard, fighting the sting in my eyes. “You did?”
“Oh, Tru,” she sighed, soft and fond. “You saw each other, even when you pretended not to. He didn’t out your relationship—he came home and told the truth. There’s a difference. And you know he did it for you.”
I didn’t know how to respond. Because part of me still couldn’t believe Dare had changed. That he would.
But he had.
And now the ground beneath me was shifting, terrifying and hopeful all at once.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Don’t thank me,” she murmured. “Just don’t give up on him yet. He’s late to the party, but he’s trying like hell to catch up.”
The silence stretched, gentle and full.
Maybe soulmates drift. But the tide always knows how to bring them home.
The rooftop was lit with string lights and the buzz of celebratory joy.
Someone handed me a drink I didn’t remember asking for.
I nodded, said thank you, but it sat untouched in my hand.
The sky was a dusky lavender shade that made everything look softer than it felt.
A DJ spun a lowbeat remix of something I used to love in high school, and people kept coming up to me—to me—grinning and congratulating, saying how they absolutely died at episode sixteen, how they saw themselves in the story, how they were already begging for season two.
I smiled, said thank you again, and meant it—but I also felt distant, like I was watching it all through a window.
Jasper was at the bar, telling some story with his usual dramatic hand gestures, laughter erupting around him. He looked good. Comfortable. He was sweet. He tried. And for a while, I thought—maybe. What if? But I never got past the ghost in my bed.
The ghost with warm brown eyes and a sharp tongue who kissed me like he hated how much he needed it.
I drifted to the edge of the party, letting the breeze hit my face. My cheeks ached from smiling. I should have been happy—truly happy. My art, our art, was alive in the world. The story that broke me open and birthed my independence had found an audience, and they loved it.
But even with the success, the party, the praise… There was still this loneliness inside me. A Darien-shaped hole nothing could fill. I thought finishing the season might close the wound. Instead, it felt like a flare in the dark.
I rubbed the back of my neck, fingers brushing the spot where Dare used to rest his hand possessively. His hoodie was still in my closet. His name was still in my blood. Most nights, I woke with it half-whispered on my tongue.
I tried not to look for him everywhere. Tried harder not to miss him. But I’d accepted that he’d always be a part of me—a vital organ I couldn’t live without.
And when I turned back toward the party, I suddenly didn’t feel quite so alone. The air shifted. My chest tightened. The ghost I’d been dragging behind me for almost a decade wasn’t a ghost anymore.
Because he was here.