Chapter Thirty-Four
LUKE
Practice was over. The locker room was quiet. For once. No shouting. No gear clattering. No barking from Coach. Just the distant hum of the lights and the low thud of blood in my ears.
I sat on the bench, elbows on my knees, gear bag at my feet. My fingers hesitated over the small zippered flap on the inside pocket. The one I hadn’t opened in months. Maybe longer.
I didn’t know why I reached for it now. Maybe I’d run out of other distractions. Or maybe I already knew what I would find.
I slid the zipper down and reached in. Felt the cool press of metal against my fingers.
When I pulled it out, it was just as I remembered.
A white-gold chain. Thin. Barely there. And dangling from the center—a single star.
I didn’t breathe for a second. Just stared at it. Let the weight of it settle in my palm.
She never told me she’d left it. Didn’t need to.
I’d found it right before a game—months after she disappeared.
Just a glint of metal buried beneath mouth guards and tape.
I didn’t ask how it got there. I didn’t tell anyone I kept it.
I just… did. It felt like the only piece of her that hadn’t vanished when she did—even if leaving it behind was its own message.
I pressed the charm between my fingers now, thumb brushing over the edges as if summoning her from memory.
This necklace was everything—a reminder of that night on the roof. Of the shooting star that cut across the sky, a promise we didn’t know how to keep. Of a dream whispered into darkness. It was a symbol of distance. Of fate. Of something bigger than us—but still undeniably us.
I stared at it and asked myself the question I hadn’t dared before. Could we survive this time? Could we hold on long enough to rewrite what we broke? Or would the chaos swallowing us—family, secrets, expectations—tear us apart all over again?
I didn’t have the answer. But I clenched the necklace in my fist, held it tight as if it still meant something. Because it did. Because she did. Even if I couldn’t say it out loud yet.
For so long, I’d told myself I was over her. That Mila Callahan was just a scar I’d learned to live with. But the proof sat in my hand. Thin chain. Small star. Every lie I’d fed myself burned away in the weight of it.
If I opened my fist and she left again, I wouldn’t crawl back out this time. There’d be nothing left to put back together.
The air in the locker room pressed heavy, metallic, suffocating. I bent forward, necklace biting my palm, breath dragging rough through my chest. I hated how easy it would be to follow her if she ran again.
That was the real weakness. Not her leaving. Me.
I tucked the necklace in my pocket, shouldered my bag, and headed up to the roof, thumbing off a text to Mila: I’m up. Meet me.
It was getting late, and my stomach growled, but I didn’t move. I wasn’t leaving this roof until I saw her. Until I knew.
The chain in my pocket was featherlight. But it carried weight—what it meant. What it could still—a new beginning. Or maybe just the illusion of one.
The sky hadn't tipped into full dark yet—just a dim gray blur overhead. Not enough stars. But the remnants of our past were already here. It clung to this rooftop, waiting for us to finish the story we left half-burned.
There were memories up here. They breathed. They lingered in the cracks of the concrete and in the way the air smelled of rain and ash. I wanted more of them. The question was whether we could ever outrun the distrust that simmered between us.
The door squeaked open behind me, that familiar shriek of metal on metal.
I turned just as Mila slipped through the doorway.
Same jeans. Same dark waves whipping behind her.
She moved—both warning and a promise—closing the space until she stood a foot away.
Close enough that I could smell her shampoo.
Not close enough to invite touch. That single foot between us had never felt so far away.
“I wasn’t sure you would show.” My voice was rougher than I wanted.
She shrugged. Looked away. Then locked determined gray-green eyes with mine. “You made amends for your colossal fuckup.” Her full lips twitched, bitter amusement curling them for a split second before she masked it again.
“Before I tell you why I really came,” she said, voice edged with hesitation, “there’s something you need to know.
I overheard Elise on the phone. I couldn’t catch the whole conversation, but she made it sound as though her job is to get you back, her role in whatever’s going on.
There was a dangerous desperation to her voice.
Drugging you was flung out as a last resort. ”
That was a new one. But impossible. I wouldn’t accept anything from her, or her friends. Still, the thought of Elise desperate enough to consider it scraped like glass under my ribs. I forced my tone flat. “Elise is a nonstarter. She doesn’t matter. Never did.”
She didn’t flinch. “Maybe not to you. But don’t write her off. She’s a pawn in this game—and not a random one. She’s tied to the companies. You know which ones I mean.”
I did. And the knot in my gut tightened. Pawns weren’t harmless. Pawns were how the board shifted without anyone noticing. “I appreciate the warning. But Elise can’t get close to me. I’m not worried about her.”
“Okay.” Her lips pressed together. “Then we can move on. Because the rest of what I have to say… it’s bigger. And I need to know you’re not going to stab me in the back.”
That one resonated. Probably because I’d earned it. But she wasn’t blameless either. “That’s a tall order coming from you, based on your prior actions.”
She grimaced. “Right. I get that. Thing is, I didn’t have all the details before.
I do now.” She lifted her hand, palm out, warding me off.
“And I know it’s asking a lot—but I do need your promise.
That whatever I say, you’ll protect me and my mom.
You won’t do anything that’ll put us in the crosshairs. ”
I stilled. She was asking for everything. But after last night? After the olive branch she’d offered? “You have my word.”
Her breath left in a gust. Her shoulders slumped just enough to prove she hadn’t been sure I’d say it.
I reached for her hand and pulled her toward the blanket I’d laid out. Old habit. Familiar pattern. Her raised brow told me she recognized it too. We sat. Close but not quite touching. And then she leaned forward and unraveled everything.
“I was never able to tell you why we’d left.
” Her fingers twisted a strand of her long hair, lips pressed tight.
“I don’t even remember why I had to meet Mom at work that night.
Doesn’t matter. I followed her location.
When I got there…” Her body shuddered. “There was blood. A body. We got the hell out. Back at our place, she wouldn’t tell me who pulled the trigger.
Just… hinted. Enough to buy my silence.”
My stomach coiled.
“This town has a ruling order,” she whispered. “And crossing them? That would’ve been fatal.”
My lungs stalled. My family was the ruling order. “What are you saying, Mila?”
“I just need you to listen, okay?”
Cold seeped into my bones, but I gave her a single nod. It cost more than I let on.
“The person who was killed… it was my mom’s boyfriend. Darren Langley.”
My throat closed. “The VP?”
She nodded. “We fled that night. No packing. No warning. Mom didn’t even let me reach out. She wasn’t sure if we’d been seen.”
None of it made sense. “If she was afraid of my family, why come back?” Mila never outright said one of us pulled the trigger, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask, or that I was willing to believe it could be true. There had to be another explanation, and maybe she didn’t have the whole story.
“What was going on before we left, that I just recently found out about, was that our names were being scrubbed. From school. Medical. Emergency contacts. Like we’d never existed.”
I exhaled sharply.
She pressed on. “Darren got curious. Started digging where he shouldn’t. Told Mom what he’d found. Two days later, he was dead.” A tremor rolled through her. “That’s why we ran. Before whoever it was decided we were next.”
Her throat worked, her eyes darting away before snapping back to mine.
“There’s something else. My mom… she saw Lorne that night.
Standing over Darren’s body. Gun in hand.
She swears he didn’t see her. And by the time I got there, he was already gone.
But it was enough. Too much. She panicked.
We both did. Telling the cops wasn’t an option, not if they were already in your family’s pocket. The risk was too great to stay.”
It was a gut punch. Heat drained, my chest iced over, leaving something jagged.
Lorne. Not blood. But close enough. My dad’s shadow at every dinner. His name stamped on contracts. His hand steady on my shoulder after wins, after losses. A constant.
And in Mila’s memory—standing over a body with a gun.
The denial clawed at me, sharp and useless. But it didn’t hold. Because deep down, I believed her.
If it was true, then every handshake, every deal, every scrap of trust I’d given him was rotten. He wasn’t outside the walls. He was already inside them.
Which meant Mila wasn’t in danger of some faceless enemy. She was in danger of the man my family kept inviting closer. The man I’d let too close.
My pulse crashed. Because if she was right, then I couldn’t protect her. Not from him. Not from the people sitting at my own table. Not even from myself.
The image of him waiting for me after practice slammed into place—how he’d intercepted me, all calm authority, and handed me the paperwork for the boardwalk studio with his signature on the sale’s approval.
I thought it’d been a test. Now, I knew better.
He’d been giving me a message. That Mila was already in his sights.
And everything snapped into place with a sickening click.