Chapter 28
chapter twenty-eight
Oakland couldn’t sleep.
She curled on her side, hugging a pillow to her chest, staring at the broken phone on her nightstand like it might put itself back together if she could will it hard enough.
She wanted to text Christine.
Last night was the first time she’d ever fallen asleep with someone in her arms, and now, stripped of that warmth, the loneliness felt unbearable.
She spent her whole life alone. It was fine. It was bearable until now.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her brain to shut down, but it wasn’t just the empty space in her bed keeping her awake.
Tomorrow, she faced the membership council.
And she would have to make a decision.
Would she lie? Pretend? Repent for something that didn’t feel like a sin?
Or tell the truth and let them strip her of everything—her family, her community, her entire foundation?
Either way, tomorrow would change her life forever.
A sharp knock at the door sent her bolting upright, her heart hammering.
Then, “Oakland?”
Christine’s voice.
She scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over her feet and glancing at her reflection—nope, not like this. She tore off her undergarments and yanked on a pair of boxers and a tank top before swinging the door open.
Christine stood there gripping Gruit’s leash. She was upset. Her hair was a mess, her eyes red-rimmed, her expression something close to devastated.
Oakland’s stomach twisted.
“Are you okay?” she asked immediately.
Christine let out a slow breath, licking her lips like she was weighing what to say.
Then, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
For a moment, Oakland had no idea what Christine was talking about.
The words barely registered, muffled by the haze of everything that transpired the night before.
It was like surfacing too fast from deep water, her brain slow to catch up, unwilling to let go of the moment.
But the sharp edge in Christine’s voice cut through it.
Oakland swallowed hard.
“Tell you what?”
Christine blinked once.
“About Silver.”
The words landed like a punch to the gut.
Shit. The kiss.
The heat between them evaporated instantly, replaced by something heavier and colder.
Oakland dragged a hand over the back of her neck. “I should’ve told you.”
“You think?”
Oakland groaned, already exhausted. “Chris, it happened before we were even… us.”
Christine’s mouth pressed into a thin line.
Oakland sighed, leaning against the doorframe.
“I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter.”
Christine shook her head. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
Oakland swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “I went to the brewery that night to see you. Silver kissed me, and I…” She stopped, shaking her head. “It was nothing. It was stupid.”
Christine’s jaw tensed.
“And yet, I’m the one you can’t kiss.”
Silence.
Oakland opened her mouth to respond, but Christine didn’t let her.
“What is it, Oakland?” she pushed, voice rising. “Was Silver just that impossible to resist? Why was it so easy to resist me?”
“God no, Chris! You have this all wrong.” Oakland flinched like she was struck. “Look, can we talk inside? My neighbors will hear.”
Christine let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Right. That’s what you’re worried about.”
Oakland shut her eyes, taking a slow breath.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” she said quietly.
Christine’s throat bobbed as she swallowed.
Yeah?” Her voice wavered. “Well, you did. You are.”
Oakland’s jaw tightened, her eyes darting somewhere, anywhere, like the right words might be hiding in the hallway's corner. But there was nothing. Just the suffocating weight of everything unsaid.
Christine’s breath hitched. “Tell me you want me.”
Oakland’s throat tightened. It wasn’t that simple. It should have been, but the words wouldn’t come.
And Christine saw it.
Her face crumpled, just for a second, before she swallowed it down, masking the hurt by clearing her throat. She took a step back. She felt sick.
Gruit whined, nudging at Oakland’s leg, his tail low, sensing the shift.
Christine let out a hollow laugh, one hand scrubbing over her face like she could wipe away the moment.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” she murmured, voice thick. “I’m done, Oakland, being your little experiment or voyeuristic plaything. Whatever this was.”
Oakland felt something clawing in her chest, a desperate urge to reach out, to pull her back, to say something, fix it, stop her.
But she just stood there.
Christine’s fingers curled around Gruit’s leash. For one agonizing second, she hesitated like she was giving Oakland one last chance to fix this, to stop her.
Nothing.
Christine blinked up at the ceiling like it might keep the tears from falling. Then, without another word, she turned.
And Oakland let her go.
?