23. KORIE #2
Everything feels heavy now. The movies. The crowds. The constant awareness of Holden beside me. People looking at us. Their unsaid opinions. The unspoken expectation of future events. Holden’s expectations.
I’m drowning in it and I can’t come up for air.
“I was just asking,” he says finally.
“I know.” I rub one arm. “I just—”
The words jam somewhere behind my ribs. My gaze catches on the other bag on the floor.
The one he’s been stuffing full of things for us to take too.
An inflatable raft for the lake, marshmallow skewers that look like tiny swords, extra sunscreen.
Each time I see it, I catch a glimpse of what this weekend is supposed to be, and it makes me tense.
I don’t know if I can handle a weekend with my family without an emotional reset.
And that’s when it hits me.
I know what I need even if it’s going to be hard to ask for it.
“Can we just…” I swallow hard. “I think I need a few days before the trip. Alone, I mean.”
Holden goes completely still.
My stomach drops instantly.
“I just—I need to wrap my head around all this without a bajillion people watching our every move.”
The hurt that flashes across his face is immediate and devastating. “Why does it matter what other people think?”
His tone cuts through my patience, making me cringe. “It just does!”
He pauses. “Korie—”
“Look, I’m trying here,” I say quickly. “I am. This is just—”
“I thought we were past trying,” he says.
“That’s exactly my point!” I throw my head back in frustration. “You are past it. I’m… I don’t know.”
He takes a step back.
“You’re already so far into this, Holden.
Like you already knew exactly what this is supposed to become, and I’m…
I want you, but… I’m just trying to catch up.
” Can’t he remember that I didn’t even want this?
I never wanted to date anyone. Committing to someone, even someone I deeply care about, is terrifying to me.
My throat tightens as we stare at each other. “I need time to—”
“You’re really doing it again,” he says softly, shaking his head.
Something in his voice makes me stop cold. “What?”
Holden laughs once, sharp and humorless, then looks away like he already regrets saying it. “And you don’t even see it. That’s the hardest part.”
“Doing what?”
“You’re leaving me.”
“I am not.”
“You are. You’re already pulling away. I’ve felt it for days.”
“Holden.”
“No. You’ve done this before. Pulled back without talking to me.”
I take a step back. “When have I ever left you?”
Holden’s eyes are bright and full of pain all at once. “Swim team.”
I physically flinch. The room goes silent. He’s bringing that up now? After all these years?
“Holden…”
“You left, Korie, and I didn’t understand why.” His voice roughens. “One day you were there and then suddenly you weren’t, and everybody kept asking me what was going on, and where you were. But I couldn’t answer. Because you hadn’t even talked to me about it. You just… left.”
I stare at him, stunned. “I couldn’t breathe!”
“I know! I get that now. But I didn’t get to understand it before you left. You shut me out.” His tone says what he does not. Just like you are now.
I shake my head as tears blur my vision. “I’m not leaving you,” I say, but my voice comes out weak.
Holden doesn’t hear me. He drags a hand over his face, pacing once across the tiny stretch of apartment before turning back toward me.
“You know what the worst part was?” he asks quietly. “I didn’t even care about swimming anymore after you quit.”
I blink at him.
“I never cared about the medals. Or winning. Or any of it.” His voice cracks slightly. “Going to nationals meant nothing without you.”
My pulse stutters violently. How could he bring all of this up now?
Holden threads his fingers through his hair, frustrated and clearly in pain. Words spill out too fast to stop. He paces the room like his mind is racing.
“You were the whole reason I loved any of it in the first place.” He laughs again, softer this time.
Miserable. “I only wanted to do it because you were doing it. From the beginning. I loved swimming, but it was always about having fun with you. Cheering you on. Pushing you. Seeing your face at the finish. It was always you, Korie.”
His voice cracks, and he pauses, blinking hard as if fighting tears. “It’s always been you.” He says this with finality, as if understanding it for the first time.
Something inside me shifts so suddenly it’s almost painful.
All at once, memories start rearranging themselves.
Holden waiting for me before practice.
Holden shoving extra goggles into my hands because I always forgot mine.
Holden looking at me from his starting block before every race.
Holden grinning at me like I was the only one in the room.
Oh my god.
My chest tightens so hard it hurts.
Holden loved me then.
Maybe not the way he does now. Maybe not fully. But something had already started for him then that he didn’t know. Something neither of us understood yet.
And I left.
Not him. I didn’t leave swim because of him. I left because the pressure was suffocating me, for reasons no one knew at the time. I wouldn’t have survived if I stayed. It wasn’t about whether or not I wanted it. It was about whether or not I could be me in such a public capacity.
Leaving the team was the only way to save myself.
But I never meant to hurt him.
Pain rips through me as I remember watching Holden’s national swim meet on TV. He was forced to go by our college and our parents. But it had been clear long before his foot ever landed on that starting block that it was going to be a disaster.
All these years I thought he froze at the start because he was angry with me.
Now I see he froze because he was heartbroken.
The room suddenly feels too small. Too warm. It’s like I’m back there again, with all the cameras on me. I can’t breathe correctly. I try to suck in air, but it doesn’t come. Stumbling back, I lean forward, bracing my hands on my knees.
Holden snaps to attention. “Korie?”
I throw a hand up to stop him.
“I need—” My voice breaks. I press a hand hard against my sternum like it’ll help. Why does it feel like I’m splitting in two?
Holden rushes for me but I shake my head.
“I need… space.”
He recoils as if I hit him.
“I’m not ending this. I just—” Each word is impossible. Broken. I shake my head frantically. “Please, Holden. Just… go. Please.”
For a horrible second, he just stands there staring at me—completely gutted. Then he gives one sharp nod.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Okay.”
It isn’t his words that cut me deep, it’s the finality. Like some part of him has been bracing for this all along.
As soon as the door clicks shut, I fall to my knees.
How did everything change so much?