Chapter 12 #2
"Then you'll deal with that too. But Lucy?" Emma waits until I'm looking at her. "Stop waiting for other people to decide if you're worth fighting for. You are. You always have been. And anyone who doesn't see that doesn't deserve you."
The words hit something deep. How many times have I waited for someone else to choose me? To decide I was worth the effort, worth the risk, worth staying for?
When I wake the next morning, Connor's already gone. Left early for a work thing, Emma tells me when I come downstairs. Translation: he couldn't handle facing me.
Part of me is relieved. Part of me is hurt all over again.
Dad gestures to the kitchen table. "Sit with me for a minute?"
"I want to apologize," Dad says once I'm settled. "For the other night. For not shutting Connor down sooner."
"Dad, you don't have to say anything."
"I do." His voice is firm. "What Connor said was inappropriate and hurtful."
My throat goes tight.
"Lucy, you have always been the bravest of my children.
You feel things deeply. You love completely.
You take chances that scare the rest of us.
And yes, sometimes you get hurt." Dad reaches across the table and takes my hand.
"But you've never let that stop you. You've never let heartbreak turn you bitter or cynical.
That takes courage, sweetheart. Real courage. "
"Connor thinks it makes me reckless."
"Connor thinks anything he can't control is reckless." Dad's smile is wry. "Don't let anyone, not Connor, not anyone, convince you that's something to apologize for."
The tears spill over. Dad squeezes my hand and waits while I swipe at my face.
"Thanks, Dad," I manage.
Dad brings over a plate of pancakes with chocolate chips and whipped cream, trying to make them the way Mom used to. "Eat. Everything's better with pancakes."
He's not wrong.
Around noon, I retreat to my room and pick up my phone. Stare at it for a long moment. Then I open my messages and type:
Me: Hey. I know the other night was a lot. I just wanted to check in. Hope you're okay.
I read it three times. Delete "Hope you're okay," replace it with "We should talk." Delete that too. Put "Hope you're okay" back.
Finally, before I can overthink it anymore, I hit send.
The message delivers. I watch the screen for a minute, then two, then five.
Nothing.
It's fine. He's probably busy. He'll respond when he can.
And if he doesn't? If this is his way of ending things?
Then I'll deal with it. I'll hurt, I'll cry, I'll let myself feel it all. And then I'll move forward.
Maybe it's time I start believing in me too.
I spend the afternoon with Emma, watching movies and avoiding the tension. We make it through two episodes of some cooking competition show before my willpower breaks and I check my phone again.
Still nothing.
"Stop," Emma says without looking away from the TV.
"Stop what?"
"Whatever spiral you're in. Stop."
"I'm not spiraling."
"Lucy. I'm practically your sister. I've watched you spiral since you were twelve. I know your spiral face."
Later that evening, I find myself back in my room. The sun's setting early, painting everything in shades of gold and pink.
I think about everything that's happened. Connor's words at dinner. Dad's encouragement at breakfast. Natalie's fierce certainty that Ryder cares about me. Emma's reminder that I'm brave.
I think about Ryder's silence. About all the ways I've been trying to interpret it.
And I think about what I want.
Not what Connor wants for me. Not what's safe or logical.
What I want.
I want Ryder. I want what we've been building these past weeks, the easy conversations and the charged silences, the way he listens and the way he laughs at my terrible jokes.
But more than that? I want to stop apologizing for wanting things. Stop making myself smaller to fit into other people's comfort zones. Stop waiting for someone else to decide if I'm worth choosing.
I deserve someone who fights for me the way I fight for them. Someone who shows up, even when it's hard. Someone who doesn't make me wonder if I'm too much or not enough.
And if Ryder can't be that person? If whatever's keeping him silent right now is a sign of bigger problems?
Then I'll walk away. It will hurt. But I'll survive.
Because I'm done settling for people who won't fight for me.
I grab my phone one more time. No new messages. No missed calls.
I take a breath and type:
Me: I need to know where we stand. Not today, not right now while you're dealing with whatever you're dealing with. But soon. We need to have a real conversation about this. About us. Because I'm not doing this halfway anymore.
I read it three times. My finger hovers over the send button.
Then I hit it.
The message delivers. I watch it sit there, those two little checkmarks confirming he'll see it whenever he looks at his phone.
The pounding in my ribs isn't anxiety. It's something else. Something that feels almost like power.
I've said what I needed to say. I've asked for what I deserve. Now it's up to him to decide if he can meet me there.
And if he can't?
Then at least I'll know I tried. At least I'll know I fought for what I wanted instead of waiting for someone else.
I set my phone aside and curl up under my covers. Outside, the stars are coming out, real ones this time. They're bright and cold and constant.
I used to make wishes on stars. Used to believe wanting something hard enough could make it real.
Maybe I still do.
But tonight, I'm not wishing for Ryder to come back. I'm not wishing for Connor to understand me or for everything to work out.
Tonight, I'm wishing for courage. For strength. For the ability to keep choosing myself, even when it's hard.
And somehow, that feels like the bravest wish of all.