Chapter 23 Let it Out
I touched the seat lightly, feeling the familiar weight beneath my hand. I swung my leg over the bike, heart hammering as Arlo steadied it. "Ready?" he asked softly.
"Maybe," I muttered, gripping the handles.
It took me three days to finally find the courage to ride my bike. Arlo ran alongside me as I wobbled at first, then found a careful rhythm. The wind bit at my cheeks, but it felt... possible. Safe, even. My chest lifted a fraction, just enough to breathe without thinking about the crash.
We had only been riding for a short while when a voice suddenly cut through the crisp air.
"Arlo!"
I froze. Lyra stood a few feet away, hands on her hips. My stomach sank immediately as my gut went straight to suspicion. He's been seeing her... right?
Arlo stiffened. "Lyra. Leave me alone. Blocking you should be a sign enough."
Her eyes flicked to me, a smirk threatening. "I just... I wanted to talk to you alone." The glance toward me was unmistakable.
Arlo didn't flinch. His gaze stayed on her. "I said Leave Lyra."
Her smile didn't waver. That's when I snapped. "You heard him. Leave Lyra. He doesn't want to talk to you. It's time you get that."
She laughed softly. "Oh really?" Her eyes gleamed. "Well, then get this." She tipped her chin toward Arlo. "The man standing next to you used to beg me to be with him. You should've seen the letters he wrote,"
I froze as her voice turned sweet with poison, but she went on.
"Pages and pages of him, desperately in love with me.
All those little notes he slipped into my pockets, my books, my coat just so I'd find him everywhere.
Remember, Arlo? The things you stole for me because I joked about wanting them and you wanted to be my hero. "
Her smile widened. "And the tattoo, inked into your skin like a vow you thought time couldn't erase." Her eyes flicked to me. "Did you see it, Feb? Did you sleep with him while touching the tattoo he made for me?"
My hands started to shake. Arlo's hand came to my lower back, steady and grounding.
Her voice dropped, almost reverent. "And the way he talked about me. He said I was the love of his life. His reason. His breath." She paused, savoring it. "He said no one would ever touch him the way I did."
"That's enough," Arlo snapped, his voice cutting through the air like shattering glass. He stepped forward, eyes blazing. "Stop it. It was the past. Do you hear me? The past." His hands clenched at his sides. "I can't even look at you now."
He straightened, voice hard and final. "You are nothing to me. So get lost Lyra."
I stepped forward and smiled, even though I was boiling inside.
"You're pathetic. You know that, right?" I said quietly. "I hate you, sure, but mostly, I just feel sorry for you."
She blinked, thrown off for the first time, "Excuse me?"
"You're standing here digging up the past because you've lost control," I went on, my voice steady now. "You keep bragging about a boy who was lost, hurting, and desperate to be loved while you were manipulating him.
I stepped closer, eyes locked on hers, close enough to see her flinch.
"That's what's eating you alive, Lyra. You can't puppet him anymore.
Remember how you'd pull those strings? Whisper sweet lies, make him beg for scraps, convince him your poison was the only love he'd get? Yeah, that power trip is gone."
She blinked, but I didn't let up, voice dropping low.
"Admit it: without him dancing to your tune, you're nothing.
Empty. Just a bully who lost her favorite toy.
That's your whole deal, Lyra right?Picking prey to break down so you can feel big and superior.
Like, 'Hey, at least I'm not as screwed up as this idiot I control. '"
I leaned in. "You needed him hurting and begging to validate your pathetic existence.
Every tear he shed? That was your high and the proof you're 'better,' right?
Worth something. Without some sad sack to lord over, what are you?
A nobody staring at your own ugly reflection, no victim to make you shine. "
I shook my head and glanced at Arlo, then back at her. "See? People change. They grow. They heal. You lost him the moment he stopped needing you."
Her eyes flashed, sharp with rage.
"And just so we're clear," I added, my voice cutting clean and cold, "nothing you just said makes me insecure. It just makes you more pathetic."
Silence fell, thick and ringing. Lyra's expression faltered for a moment. She stayed a moment longer, fuming, before turning away.
Arlo started apologizing immediately, but I cut him off before he could finish his first sentence.
"Not now, Arlo. Please."
We rode back to his shop. When we arrived, he tried to speak again, but I stopped him.
"I want to be alone," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'll leave my bike here. I want to take a walk."
He nodded and did as I asked. I turned away before he could say anything.
I had never done this before. I had never confronted anyone, never stood my ground like that. The adrenaline still buzzed under my skin, my hands trembling, my chest too tight but beneath it all was relief.
It felt strange and unfamiliar. But also... strangely therapeutic.
So I kept on walking. For minutes or hours. The city blurred around me, my thoughts louder than the traffic. A few minutes later my phone vibrated. I stopped and read his message.
Please don't heed her any attention. She just wanted to hurt you.
She wasn't my first choice, she was my only choice when I had no one. If she were, I'd go to her immediately. But I don't want her.
I want you.
I love you, and I know it will take time for you to believe that, but I am not giving up.
Please Berrie, please come back or just talk to me.
The words sat heavy in my chest.
Part of me burned with anger—at her, at him, at myself for feeling anything other than certainty.
Another part of me understood. Understood the loneliness he was talking about.
Understood how people cling when they're drowning.
That part scared me the most, because it softened the edges of my pain when I didn't want them softened yet.
I stared at the screen, fingers hovering, not ready to answer. That's when I heard a stranger's voice.
"Hey, beautiful."
I looked up. A towering man with fiery ginger hair loomed just a few steps away, broad-shouldered and too large to ignore.
His smile stretched unnaturally wide, and there was nothing kind in it.
Every instinct in my body screamed danger.
He fixed me with a hard stare and said, "You really shouldn't have gone to the cops, sweetheart. "
Then darkness swallowed me.