Chapter 41 Why Is My Chest Full of Whispers?
WHY IS MY CHEST FULL OF WHISPERS?
Holly
Holly curled on the couch in her robe, towel-damp hair soaking her shoulders, phone glowing like a bad idea in the dark. She didn’t know why she was scrolling. Well. She did. She wanted to see his face. Nate.
Instead, it was hers. Plastered across her screen in stitched clips, slowed-down looks, freeze-frames of heartbreak with comment sections thirsting for closure.
Y’all. Nate didn’t even look at her in rehearsal this week.
Was that Paso real or just promo?
Bet he ghosts after the finale.
Holly deserves better than a guy with one foot on the ice and one in the penalty box.
It’s giving ‘he’s in love, she’s in PR mode.’
What happens when the show ends?
That last one hit like a blade. Lodged deep. She’d been asking herself the same damn thing for days.
The screen flashed with a new message, like fate taking a drag of expensive wine and sliding into her DMs.
Nick
Caught a glimpse of you leaving today. You looked… never mind. If you need someone to glare meaningfully across a wine bar at, or file a formal complaint on your behalf, I’m free after six.
She stared at it. Blinked once.
Of course he saw her. Nick always did. The man clocked pain like most people clock designer shoes. Quick, silent, and with a look that said I could ruin this, or fix it, depending on my mood.
She turned off her phone before she could type something stupid.
The ache coiled tighter under her ribs.
God, she missed Nate. And somehow, he’d never felt further away.