Chapter 4 #2
The conversation drifted in waves, and the ache in my chest throbbed a little lighter. I couldn’t say the things I really wanted to. Couldn’t tell him how often I still dreamed of him. Of them. Couldn’t touch the memories I’d locked in the furthest part of my heart.
We stayed on the phone, not really talking anymore. Just existing in the same space, even if that space was separated by thousands of miles and four very long, very painful years.
The light in the studio shifted slowly, lazily, until I realized the golden warmth slanting through the windows had gone dusky. The walls were now bathed in that soft lavender-blue haze that only came when the sun dipped beneath the city skyline.
I blinked at the time and whispered, “Hey, Dirks?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you . . . did you stay up all night for me? Because it’s almost evening here now.”
There was a pause. Then a deep and unguarded chuckle. “Yeah. Lucky for me, I found the charger before my phone died.”
I sat up straighter, guilt pricking at my chest. “I didn’t mean—”
“No. I’m glad I did.”
I released a quiet exhale and closed my eyes. I didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to carry the weight of what it meant—that even after everything, he still chose this. Still chose me, in some way, even if I didn’t know what to do with it.
“I should probably go,” I murmured.
“Right. It’s late for you.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then, his voice softened. “Can I . . . can I call you again sometime?”
“Dirks . . . ”
“I know,” he said softly. “The boyfriend. I’m not trying to fuck that up. I swear. Just . . . as a friend. Please.”
I hesitated.
Because even though it sounded like something that could be harmless, it never had been, not with him. Not with them. And yet the ache in my chest had cracked open, and for the first time in years, the emptiness didn’t feel quite so sharp.
“I . . . ” I started, then stopped. My voice dropped to a whisper. “Why now? Why after four years?”
He was quiet. So quiet, I thought maybe the call had dropped.
“Because I’ve tried, Luna girl. I tried to let you go. I tried to bury it. To move on. But every time I look at my life—no matter how good it looks on the outside—there’s this space in me. And it’s shaped like you.”
Tears blurred my vision. I pressed my knuckles to my lips, trying to hold the emotion in.
“I don’t want to fill that space anymore,” he said. “I just want to hear your voice in it again.”
And with those words . . . I broke.
“I’ll pick up,” I whispered. “Next time. I’ll pick up.”
He exhaled. “Good night, Luna girl.”
I blinked up at the ceiling, lips twitching into something like a smile.
“Good night, Dirks,” I murmured. “Try not to pass out at practice. I’d hate to be the reason the Ravens lose their captain to sleep deprivation and emotional damage.”
He chuckled. “I’ll survive.”
I hung up first and then stared at my phone for a long moment, like it might explain what the hell had just happened. It didn’t.
The studio was quiet again. My reflection in the darkened mirror looked like a woman who had her shit together. My high ponytail hadn’t even fallen. My matching athletic set was still perfect.
Inside, I was a fucking mess. I wasn’t brave or healed or zen or whatever the internet thought. Still, I stood up, dusted off my knees, and grabbed my water bottle.
“Right,” I muttered to no one. “Guess we’re just gonna pretend I didn’t emotionally combust right now.”
I flipped the light off and stepped outside, wondering how the hell I was supposed to carry all this into tomorrow.
As I rounded the garden gate, the faint sounds of laughter pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts.
Nova and Ollie were in the back, drinks in hand, their little girl sprinting barefoot across the grass with wild energy. Scarlette’s curls bounced as she ran, her shrieks of joy echoing off the garden walls like some kind of tonic.
“Hey, Scar,” I called, plastering on a grin. “You practicing for the Olympics or just running from bedtime?”
She stopped short, blinked at me with those big blue eyes, and gave a dramatic gasp like I’d caught her red-handed. Then she bolted straight to me and wrapped herself around my legs.
Nova looked up from the patio table and smiled. “Come in here before she cons you into chasing her for an hour.”
I gave Scarlette’s curls a quick ruffle, pried her off gently, and stepped up onto the patio.
“Will said you were working late,” Ollie said, his accent casually rolling out as he reached for another drink from the cooler.
“Yup,” I replied, too fast.
Nova arched her brow. “Your stream ended hours ago.”
I waved her off breezily. “Had some work stuff to finish in the quiet. The studio was empty. Figured I’d take advantage.”
She wasn’t buying it. Nova knew me too well. Always had. But she didn’t press, just pulled out the empty chair beside her and gave me that look—the one that said you don’t have to talk, but I’m not going anywhere either.
As much as I didn’t want to be around anyone right now, maybe it was better than being alone. So I sat down and pretended like my entire emotional infrastructure hadn’t just cracked in a yoga studio.
I loved Nova. She’d been my constant since we were teenagers. But it was hard sometimes, being her shadow. So much of our life had orbited around her—her mom getting sick, her mom dying, her getting pregnant, us hiding things from her ex. Finding Ollie.
Nova took a sip of wine, watching me from the rim of her glass. “Are you going to call Will?”
“What? No. God. It’s late.”
Ollie snorted softly into his beer.
Nova leaned back, one brow raised like she was bracing for the bullshit I was about to feed her.
I smiled tightly and stared out into the garden. Everything was blooming, and I was falling apart.
“Alright,” Ollie said, clapping his hands together, “I’ve got bath duty, don’t I, Scarlette?”
Scarlette gave a delighted scream and bolted toward the house, Ollie jogging after her with the patience of a saint. That left Nova and me alone on the patio, summer evening settling like a quiet spell over the garden.
“You okay?” she asked carefully.
“Peachy,” I said too quickly.
“You sure? That joke had less flavor than British food.”
I snorted, but it came out more like a sigh. My sarcasm had officially given up on me.
She didn’t let up. “Is it Will? Did something happen?”
I opened my mouth, ready to lie. To say something charming or dismissive or even halfway convincing. But my brain just . . . blanked.
She leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing slightly. “Okay. Well, if you’re not gonna talk, I guess I’ll just overshare.”
I blinked.
“Wanna know what Ollie and I did last night?”
“Oh god.” I tried to smile. Failed.
Nova grinned anyway. “Nothing wild. Just good, solid, like, missionary-but-I’m-into-it sex. He’s gotten really into aftercare lately, like bringing me chocolate and rubbing my feet after.”
“Jesus,” I muttered, running a hand down my face. “That’s dangerously close to a rom-com.”
“I know. It’s disgusting. I kinda love it,” she said, sipping her wine.
I let out a half-hearted laugh.
Nova studied me for another beat. “Are you getting any of that?”
“Sex?”
“Joy,” she said gently. “Fulfillment. Being touched like you matter.”
That’s when the burn started in my throat.
I stood so fast my chair screeched across the patio stones.
“Okay. That’s all for tonight. Bye!” I said too loudly, waving one hand in the air.
“Luna—”
I was already moving toward the garden apartment. I fumbled the key, shoved the door open, and slammed it shut. I pressed my back to the door and let my eyes fall shut.
My phone lit up.
Will: Hey babe. Hope filming went well. Want to call before bed?
I stared at it and waited for guilt, but all I felt was static.
Nothing.
There was only Dirks’s voice echoing in my head like it had carved a canyon there.
I miss you, Luna girl.
FUCK.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.