Chapter 12
Lucy
The house smells like cinnamon and pine, but all I can taste is ash.
I've been awake since four this morning, lying in my childhood bed and staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars I stuck to the ceiling when I was twelve.
They've faded over the years, barely visible even in the dark, but I know exactly where each one is.
I used to make wishes on them. Used to believe that wanting something hard enough could make it real.
I don't know what I believe anymore.
My phone sits on the nightstand, screen dark. I've checked it seven thousand times since last night. No new messages. No missed calls. Nothing from Ryder since he left.
Since he chose Connor over me. Since he said he needed space and walked away without looking back.
The rest of me keeps replaying every moment, searching for the exact second when I became too much. When he realized what Connor already knew. That I'm the kind of person people leave.
Downstairs, Dad's already started breakfast. I can hear the coffee maker brewing, the sound of bacon sizzling in the cast iron pan Mom used to use. The normalcy of it hollows me out.
Emma's in the kitchen when I get there, still in her pajamas. She takes one look at my face and immediately pours coffee into my favorite mug.
"Rough night?" she asks quietly.
I accept the coffee and wrap both hands around it. "Something like that."
Connor emerges from the guest room as I'm setting the table. His eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before sliding away. The silence between us feels like something with teeth.
We eat Dad's attempt at Mom's famous morning casserole. Usually I have seconds. Today, each bite tastes like cardboard, but I force it down anyway because Dad keeps glancing at my plate with worry written all over his face.
After we finish coffee and breakfast, Emma and I end up in my room, sprawled across my bed like we used to do in high school.
"Want to talk about it?" Emma asks eventually.
"Connor hates me."
"Connor doesn't hate you." Emma sets down her phone. "But he was way out of line last night."
"He thinks I'm a mess. That I make terrible choices." The words scrape out of me.
"He's not wrong though, is he?" The question tumbles out before I can stop it. "I mean, look at my track record. Tyler, who cheated on me for six months before I figured it out. Brad, who forgot my birthday three years in a row. And now Ryder, who left without looking back."
"Lucy, stop."
"Maybe Connor's right. Maybe I am the common denominator. Maybe I just pick men who are going to leave because some part of me knows I'm not worth the trouble of staying for."
"Stop." Emma sits up, her voice sharp. "Stop it right now."
She glares at me with an intensity that would be scary if I didn't know it came from love.
"Connor is being a judgmental jerk," she says. "And Ryder left after Connor ambushed you both. You don't even know what he's thinking."
"He hasn't texted me."
"Maybe he needed time to cool down. Maybe he's trying to respect family time. Maybe a thousand things that have nothing to do with you not being enough."
Dinner is strained. Dad tries to keep conversation flowing with stories about work and questions about our jobs. Emma jumps in with updates about her office, about anything and everything that might fill the silence.
Connor says almost nothing.
I push food around my plate and try to look engaged. Emma kicks me under the table when I space out during one of Dad's stories.
"Lucy's been distracted all day," Connor says. It's the first full sentence he's directed at me since yesterday.
Everyone goes quiet.
"Just tired," I say lightly.
"Right. Tired." His tone suggests he doesn't believe me. "Nothing to do with your hockey player boyfriend?"
Emma's fork clatters against her plate. "Connor."
"What? We're all thinking it."
Dad sets down his wine glass with deliberate care. "That's enough."
"Is it though?" Connor's looking at me now, really looking at me. "Because I'm the only one who seems concerned that Lucy's making the same mistakes she always makes."
The words hit like a slap.
"Connor James Wright," Dad says sharply.
But he's not done. "She falls fast, gets in over her head, ignores everyone who tries to warn her. Then when it falls apart, we all have to pick up the pieces."
My face burns. Emma's gone very still beside me.
"What pieces?" My voice sounds strange to my own ears. "When have any of you had to pick up my pieces?"
"Every time." Connor's jaw is tight. "Every time you call crying about some guy who didn't work out. Every time you show up here heartbroken and confused."
"I don't mean to be a burden," I manage.
"That's not what I said."
"That's exactly what you said." The words crack. "You think I'm a problem. You think I'm too much."
"Lucy, I didn't mean it like that."
"You know what? You're right." I push back from the table.
"I do fall too fast. I do ignore red flags.
But at least I try. At least I put myself out there.
At least I risk getting hurt instead of playing it so safe that nothing can touch me.
When was the last time you did something that scared you, Connor? "
His face goes pale.
"That's what I thought." I grab my phone from the table. "Excuse me."
I make it to my room before the tears start. Angry tears, frustrated tears, tears that have been building since yesterday and won't be held back anymore.
My phone lights up. For one wild second, I think it might be Ryder. But it's Natalie.
Natalie: How's the family chaos treating you?
Me: Can I call you?
Natalie: Always.
She answers on the first ring. "What happened?"
I tell her everything. Connor catching us kissing in the driveway.
The fight, his accusations that Ryder's just using me, that I'm making the same mistakes.
The way Ryder froze up, said he needed space, and left.
His words at dinner earlier, the way everyone looked at me like I was something fragile that might shatter.
I tell her about the silence since Ryder left, about the creeping certainty that Connor's right and I've done it again.
"Okay," Natalie says when I finally run out of words. "First of all, your brother is being an ass."
"He's trying to protect me."
"He's trying to control you. There's a difference."
"But what if he's right? What if I am making another mistake?"
"Lucy." Natalie's voice goes firm. "Do you remember how Ryder looked at you that first night he was here?"
"I guess?"
"He couldn't take his eyes off you," Natalie says. "Even when you were being prickly and defensive. He watched you like you were the only person in the room."
Something loosens in my ribs.
"That's not how someone looks at a mistake," she continues. "That's not how someone looks at a person they're planning to leave. And I've seen you two together now, Lucy. Multiple times. The way he listens when you talk. The way you light up around him."
"But he left."
"He left after your brother cornered you both and said awful things. That's not the same as choosing to leave you."
I close my eyes. "Then why hasn't he called?"
"I don't know. Maybe he needed to think. Maybe Connor got in his head. But you know what I do know? That man is gone for you."
"You don't know that."
"I absolutely know that. Lucy, I've been your best friend for fifteen years. I have never, not once, seen someone look at you the way Ryder looks at you."
The memory surfaces. Ryder's face above mine in the lamplight. The way his expression shifted between hunger and something softer, something that looked almost like reverence.
"Really?" I whisper.
"Really. So maybe Connor's right that you fall fast. Maybe you do ignore red flags sometimes. But you know what else? You love with your whole heart. You give people the benefit of the doubt. You believe in second chances and happy endings."
"That sounds like a terrible personality trait."
"That sounds like the best personality trait." Natalie's voice softens. "Don't let your brother or anyone else convince you that loving fully is a weakness. It's not. It's the bravest thing you do."
When we finally hang up, I feel wrung out but steadier. I check my phone one more time. Still nothing from Ryder.
But Natalie's right. One day of silence doesn't mean anything.
Or maybe he's done.
The thought sends a spike of panic through me, but I breathe through it. I've survived heartbreak before. I'll survive it again if I have to.
There's a soft knock on my door. "Lucy?" Emma's voice. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
She slips inside and sits on the edge of my bed. "Connor feels terrible."
"Good."
"Lucy."
"What do you want me to say, Em? That it's fine? That he didn't mean it?"
"He thinks you're fearless," Emma says. "And it scares him."
"That's the same thing Natalie said."
"Because it's true. Connor needs control. He needs plans and predictability. You're the opposite. You dive in headfirst. You feel everything intensely. You take risks."
"You make it sound like a good thing."
"It is a good thing." Emma's expression is fierce. "Lucy, you're the bravest person I know. You moved here after a bad breakup. You built a life from scratch. You took a chance on something uncertain because it felt right."
"But what if it doesn't work out?" I ask. "What if I'm wrong about Ryder?"
"Then you'll deal with it," Emma says simply. "But at least you'll have tried. At least you'll have gone after something that made you happy instead of staying small to make other people comfortable."
I think about that. About all the times I've made myself smaller, quieter, less.
"Now here's what you're going to do," Emma continues. "Tomorrow, you're going to text Ryder and ask if he's okay. Not accusatory, not needy, just checking in."
"And if he doesn't respond?"