Chapter 10 Brynn
Chapter ten
Brynn
After I make the butt comment, his eye begins to twitch. He doesn’t say anything. Just walks away with that same tired swagger and that damn clipboard.
When he disappears inside, I exhale for the first time in minutes. The popsicle drips down my wrist. I don’t even care.
I sit there for a long moment, staring at the patch of space where he stood, and suddenly I feel the weight of all the energy I spent trying to keep things light between us.
It’s exhausting—pretending we’re fine, pretending I’m fine—when every encounter pulls me back to the day everything fell apart.
No matter how much time has passed, I always end up back there.
Back to that quiet, terrible day six years ago when I told him I was leaving for Seattle.
That I needed to go. That loving him wasn’t enough to make me stay or make me follow him.
There wasn’t a fight, no shouting or slammed doors.
No tearful pleas or dramatic ultimatums. Just silence.
A silence that said everything we were too heartbroken to speak out loud.
He let me go with a look I’ll never forget.
A look like he knew it was the right thing, even if it was the last thing he wanted.
Like holding on would’ve only crushed us both.
I think, if I’m honest, I wanted him to stop me. Maybe not with words, but with something—some kind of desperate, reckless, come-back-here moment. I wanted him to fight for me. I wanted to feel like I was worth the risk.
But he didn’t. He let me walk away.
And I did, telling myself I was brave. That chasing something bigger meant closing the door on what I had here. On him. On us.
But that’s the thing about doors—they don’t always stay closed just because you told yourself they should. And now…he’s next door. And I’m the one who feels haunted.
I get up, toss the popsicle stick in the trash bin, and walk inside. Still feeling that impossible heat under my skin. It’s been years, and yet a single conversation on the front stoop has my heart tied in a knot.
I keep telling myself this is nostalgia. Familiarity. That proximity is the only reason he’s getting to me.
But deep down, I know better. Because the ache isn’t new. It’s old. It’s still there, just under the surface.
I think about that night. The night everything fell apart.
Six years ago
It was a Wednesday. I remembered because he came straight from practice—cleats still on, hoodie soaked through, that old duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He smelled like grass and sweat and that cheap cologne I secretly loved.
He looked tired. Bone-deep tired. The kind of tiredness he never admitted to anyone but me.
I had come to visit him for a long weekend, but I had already decided this was the weekend I would tell him.
I had packed the last of my things into the trunk of my car before I left campus. My acceptance email from Westhaven was still open on my laptop. The apartment lease was signed. The deposit was wired.
The only thing left was telling him.
I was already waiting for him when he walked into his run-down little apartment. It was our spot, the place where we’d sit for hours on the old loveseat, music playing low, legs tangled, hearts full.
But that night, I didn’t meet him halfway. I stayed sitting, hands clasped in my lap, stomach in knots. He noticed immediately. Knox always noticed me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, dropping the bag with a thud. “Did something happen?”
I shook my head, forcing a tight smile. “No. Nothing happened.”
He stepped closer. “Then what’s with the face?”
God. His voice. It was innocent, so steady. It almost made me change my mind.
Almost.
“I got in,” I said quietly. “Westhaven. Early admission.”
His mouth lifted, just barely. “That’s good, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It’s what I wanted.”
His brow pulled in. “So why do you look like you’re about to cry?”
And that was when it hit me—how much he didn’t understand. That he really thought I could leave and we’d still be us. Like nothing had to change.
“I’m thinking about leaving early.”
He blinked. “Early? How early? I thought we had two more weeks.”
I swallowed hard. “I already signed the lease. The apartment’s in Bellevue. Technically…I could leave tonight.”
He went still. Like the words needed a second to land.
“Tonight?” he echoed, voice low. His brows drew together, confusion clouding the corners of his face. “I thought we had two more weeks. I thought…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you were in such a rush to get out of here.”
He lowered himself to the floor in front of me, like he needed to be eye-level to make sense of it all. “Is this about us?”
He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and I almost lost it.
Because that was the moment—the quiet crack in the dam. The place where love and reality stopped lining up.
“Yeah, Knox, it is about us.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can do this.”
He froze. “What?”
“I don’t know if I can go months without seeing you. And it will be ten times worse once you sign with a team. Your whole life is about to change.”
He stared at me, like I’d just spoken another language. “But I thought you were good with this. I would’ve waited to declare if I knew you felt this way. We were going to make it work until you were done with school.”
“I thought we could do it, Knox. But I don’t want to hold you back. You’ll be living in a completely different world than me. We’ll become different people.”
“Do you plan on changing? Because I don’t.” He dropped the frustration from his voice. “You’re it for me, Bunny. Us, you and me—this is my end game.”
“You say that now, but things can change.”
“Right now, it feels like you’re the one that’s changing.” He pauses, eyes searching mine for any hope. His face slowly sinks when the realization sets in that he won’t find any. “So that’s it? You’re leaving and…we’re just done?”
I looked down. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like, Brynn?” he asked, and there was no anger in his voice. Just something heavier. Something worse.
“You’re the one who always said I had to chase my dreams,” I said. “That I couldn’t stay here just because of you.”
“I didn’t mean like this.” His voice cracked, barely. “I thought we’d chase them together.”
I closed my eyes.
I couldn’t promise that. I couldn’t lie.
He sat back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him, hands fisting his hoodie like he didn’t know what else to hold onto. “I thought we were it.”
“I thought so too.”
The silence that followed felt like a thousand unsaid things hung between us, all of them heavy and heartbreaking.
He didn’t argue. He didn’t beg. That might’ve been the worst part.
“Good luck out there,” he said finally, staring at the floor. “Make it worth it.”
I left before I could fall apart, before I thought better of it and stayed. That was what was best for us—for me. I just couldn’t be a woman on the sidelines.
Back in my living room, I close my eyes and press the heels of my hands into them until the tears go away. My head is a mess. My heart is trying to heal after leaving Seattle while my soul still feels wrecked by moving back home and all of the memories of my past.
Knox Dalton was always the best thing about this town.
And now, he’s the hardest