CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Kaia
“See? All the answers are correct. You aced it.” Alba lifted her hand for a high-five, but all I managed was a tight smile.
Something was wrong.
I expected my father’s rage the way one expects rain from a storm cloud. The outburst was bound to happen.
But it didn’t. He called, but never mentioned the weekend I spent with Asher.
He asked about SAT camp. The weather. My roommates. It was so unlike him I wondered if he was on drugs.
Still, my father wasn’t my biggest concern. Asher was.
Something had shifted after our weekend together. Instead of calling every night like before, he only texted—generic, meaningless things. No mention of our first time. Nothing about the future. He hadn’t even responded when I told him my father knew he’d picked me up on Saturday.
And he hadn’t said he loved me since Sunday.
It was Friday. He’d race tomorrow, and I wanted to wish him luck, but the thought of calling and him not answering made me sick.
Alba sighed, gathering the pages of math exercises I’d been working on. She was too good at math to need the practice, but she made me do it anyway, sitting beside me and knitting while I wrestled with equations.
“You know what.” She set the papers aside. “Just call him. He might be stressed. Didn’t you say he has to win this season no matter what?”
I stared at my silent phone, heart so heavy it struggled to beat. “I’m scared. I think he—”
The phone buzzed. Asher’s face filled the screen, and I answered instantly.
“Ash! I was going to—”
“I’m here, peque,” he said. “Can I see you?”
Peque. He wouldn’t call me that if he didn’t love me. He wasn’t that cruel.
“Sure. I’m in the yoga room with Alba. I’ll go to the backyard now.”
“Okay.”
I hung up. My heart beat again.
“See? Everything’s fine.” Alba smiled. “Go. I’ll wait here—unless you’re planning to be out all night.”
“No.” I smoothed my hair. “How do I look?”
“Like every guy’s dream. Go.”
I dashed for the door.
In the backyard, a tall figure stepped from behind a tree.
Dark hair. Leather jacket. The face I adored. But no smile.
“What happened, Ash?” My feet carried me to him, arms aching to hold him. I’d missed him so much, had so much to tell him.
I reached for him.
A week ago, he would’ve hugged me first. Held me. Kissed me. Now he only took my hand.
“We need to talk,” he said, his voice quiet and unsure. My chest shriveled.
He wasn’t here because he missed me.
“Sure,” I said, forcing a sensible, grown-up tone I didn’t feel, pretending I wasn’t a little girl who wanted to cling to his neck and beg him not to leave.
Asher ran his thumb over my knuckles. “Ale’s having trouble finding another team for me here. He’s had several meetings, but nothing yet. I might…” He paused, cleared his throat. “I might need to move. Spain or somewhere else.”
My head shook before I thought about it—the reflex you get when you want to cry but laugh instead. My heart pulsed in my throat and my hand trembled in his.
He dropped my hand like touching me hurt him. Like he hadn’t kissed every inch of me last weekend. Like he hadn’t said we’d have beautiful children. Like we’d never fallen in love.
“But you said—”
“I’m sorry, peque. I really am. But if I want to keep racing, I don’t have a choice.”
That wasn’t what he’d promised at the cabin. He’d said we’d figure it out. Now this. His change made no sense.
“Okay. Well, we can make it work, right? We can text. Email. I only have a year of school left—”
“It’ll never work.”
The words were a knife. “It’ll never work? This is a joke, right? You’re kidding. Tell me it’s a joke. Please, Ash.”
I told myself I wouldn’t cry, I wouldn’t beg. I did both. It hurt like losing part of myself, like losing hope. For the first time since Mom left, I had been happy. Now he was leaving too.
Why didn’t he choose me?
Asher stared at the ground—cold, still. Coward. He couldn’t even look at me.
My hands shook. “You knew last weekend, didn’t you?”
His eyes met mine for a beat. “No. No, I didn’t. Of course I didn’t.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t lie, peque.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Be happy.”
He turned and walked toward the gates.
I gasped—once, twice. I wanted to scream, to call him back, to beg, but my voice wouldn’t come. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.
“Kaia.” Alba wrapped me in her arms, and something inside me broke.
Maybe my heart.
Maybe me.
“He left me,” I sobbed as my knees gave out. “He left me like Mom. He said nunca, and he left me anyway.”
***
The only good thing about nightmares was that you always woke up. They didn’t last.
This was worse than a nightmare. I’d cried myself to sleep and would have chosen a million bad dreams over the reality waiting in daylight.
It waited. Cruel. Hopeless.
Teagan had gone to breakfast, but I couldn’t stomach food—couldn’t even swallow water. Breathing felt like effort.
Alba rubbed my back and curled up beside me. “It’ll get better. I promise.”
“I just want to know why,” I whispered, my mouth dry. “If he didn’t love me, why pretend? Why make me believe he cared? He didn’t even suggest long distance. I would’ve agreed. We could’ve traveled to see each other. Instead, he just gave up on me.”
Another sob broke free. Alba handed me a tissue from the box on my nightstand. “Maybe he thought it’d be too hard for you.”
I dabbed my swollen eyes. “He knows me better than that. We talked about his career. He swore he wanted to stay here.”
“Maybe the pressure got to him. Dad says different athletes handle it in different ways. Football isn’t racing, but I think it still applies.”
“I’d never hold him back.” I slid my hands beneath my cheek. “I’ve always wanted what’s best for him. I still do. I just thought… I thought we were meant to be.”
Alba gathered the tear-soaked tissues from my comforter. “Well, maybe he’s just an asshole. That’s the depressing possibility. I’ll get you coffee, okay? You need something to drink.”
A pang pierced my chest. She was so thoughtful, she reminded me of Asher—all the times he took care of me. His food. His hugs. The way he made me smile. Why had he left me so cruelly, so strangely?
“I’ll be back.”
Alba left, and I reached into my nightstand for my diary. I hadn’t written in days. After our first time, I’d been so happy I thought words couldn’t capture it.
Now all I had were memories.
As I traced the last note I’d written—the day Asher picked me up—pressure built behind my eyelids. Just the thought of writing about him made me want to cry. I slid the pink bookmark to mark the page and froze.
The door opened. Alba returned with two paper cups.
I curled my shaky fingers into a fist. “Somebody read my diary.”
She set the drinks on the nightstand quickly and sat down. “Are you sure?”
“I am. I always leave the bookmark on the last page I wrote. I’ve been doing it for years. I left it there Saturday. Today it was stuck in the back.”
Alba groaned. “Teagan. She must’ve snooped while we were away last weekend.”
As if summoned, Teagan walked in.
I held up the diary. “Do you know what this is?”
Red spread across her cheeks. Fucking traitor.
I jumped off the bed, heart hammering. “Did you read it? Don’t be a coward. Tell me the truth. Someone did. Was it you?”
“Your dad was worried,” Teagan said. “Your stepmom told him you had a diary. I only showed them your drawer.”
“Only?” Alba shot to her feet. “It wasn’t yours to show. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Teagan muttered a weak excuse I didn’t care about.
Sharon had told my father. My father had read it. They knew about Asher and me.
Only it didn’t matter anymore. I would’ve fought for us, but there wasn’t an us left. I couldn’t fight if he’d already given up. Couldn’t force him to care.
I swallowed fresh tears and pressed the pink book to my chest. “I’m going to talk to Sarah. I want a different roommate.”
“Yeah.” Alba headed for the door. “Me too.”