25. The Phantom Waits
The Phantom Waits
Ari
The afternoon sun shines against the glittering Pacific Ocean, sending golden light into the living room. The house is bustling with movement while I sip my wine, and I stay curled up on the couch with my Kindle. I’m tired from the sun, but I somehow feel… content.
Hannah and Otto are already making plans for the evening, debating the practicalities of setting up a bonfire on the beach. It’s the last night before we all return to reality, and while I should feel some sort of unease about what’s transpired here, I can’t bring myself to worry.
My reality has already shifted, whether I like it or not.
I’m almost… relieved. After tonight, I won’t have to keep pretending.
And Asher seems to know it, too.
I help Hannah carry two large pieces of wood down to the beach, and the others follow us. After offering to help and being turned down, Otto, Maddox, and Asher begin piling the wood and using the larger pieces to form the outer, tall shape for the bonfire. Hannah is busy dictating where each piece goes, and I sit back on my hands, watching everything unfold.
Once Otto gets the bottom part lit, and the rest catches fire quickly, thanks to the warm wind. Asher hands me a beer, coming to sit down next to me as Maddox sits closer to the shore with his parents. They seem to be in deep conversation, and it’s the first time I feel like I physically crave Maddox’s attention.
How ironic.
“Hey,” Asher says softly.
I turn to face him, feeling the gravity of his gaze. He studies me the way he has all day today. Like I’m just out of reach, like he’s holding on to something that’s slowly slipping away from him.
“Hey.”
He exhales loudly. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore and the crackling of the bonfire.
“Were you happy? With me, I mean.” His voice is almost too quiet. The words are soft, but they land like a punch. My stomach knots, my pulse picking up speed. I stare at the horizon, feeling the ocean breeze sweep over my skin, and I say the only thing I can.
“I was… at first.”
Asher stiffens beside me, but I don’t look at him. I can’t.
The wind shifts, carrying the distant sound of Hannah’s laughter. Asher exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, tinged with something that sounds a lot like quiet defeat.
“I feel like I kept trying to make this work, but it just didn’t. No matter how hard I tried.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, swallowing down the sharp response that threatens to rise.
Did he try, though? Because all I saw were words without action. Empty promises. Half-hearted gestures after the damage was already done. He listened, sure, but he never really heard me. And maybe for a long time, I pretended that was enough. That if I stayed patient, if I stayed quiet, things would magically shift.
But they never did.
My throat constricts. I press my fingers into the warm sand like it might steady me.
I want to deny it. I should deny it.
Because, yes, Maddox is part of this. His attention, his touch, the way he sees me, it’s all tangled up in this mess.
But he isn’t the only thing. Not even close.
This quiet unraveling between me and Asher started long before Maddox ever stepped foot inside that beach house. The missed calls. The distracted dinners. The way he never really listened when I told him what I wanted.
Maybe Maddox was just the spark.
Maybe… I was already gone before Maddox ever touched me.
Still, the thought makes my stomach twist. A cold feeling of dread works through me. This thing between Asher and me… I think it’s been fading for months. We just ignored it, both of us too comfortable, too unwilling to confront the truth.
And now, there’s nothing left to ignore.
I turn to face him, my chest aching. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He gives me a small, resigned smile, but there’s no real heartbreak in it—just acceptance. “I think you’ve been hurting for a while now,” he says quietly. “And maybe I’ve been too comfortable to notice. Or maybe I just didn’t want to.” He lets out a shallow breath. “We had a good run, Ari.”
A sharp pang twists in my ribs. I reach for his hand, squeezing gently, and for the first time in a long time, we’re not pretending.
We both know how this ends.
He sighs, running his free hand through his hair before looking over at me, searching my face. “So what now?”
I swallow hard, glancing back at the water. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
Asher stares at me, something unreadable flickering across his face. “I guess we go home and figure it out from there.”
It’s not dramatic. It’s not a fight. It’s not an explosion of emotions.
Which, I suppose, is exactly like our whole relationship. Safe. Steady. No real passion or drama. It just… is.
When I look up toward the bonfire, my eyes catch on a familiar figure leaning back on his hands, watching me.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t react, doesn’t try to intervene.
He doesn’t have to.
Because he knows Asher is letting me go.
My stomach erupts with traitorous butterflies at the idea of what he’ll do now that I’m officially no longer tethered to his brother.
And then I instantly feel guilty for thinking it, so I ask for another beer and try to drown my nerves with alcohol instead.