Page 68

CHAPTER 67

Alana

We run in silence .

Just the sound of shoes against pavement.

The rhythmic slap of breath.

The air is sharp. Cold enough to sting my cheeks but not enough to make me turn around.

Tessa runs beside me like she does everything, unapologetically confident and not even out of breath.

I, on the other hand, feel like I’m falling apart in slow motion.

My lungs burn. My chest aches.

Not from exertion, just from everything else.

But I keep going. Because stopping would mean feeling it all again.

“So… how’s it going?” Tessa asks between strides.

“Still jogging. Still broken,” I manage.

“That’s the spirit.”

We slow near the edge of the promenade.

Ocean in front of us.

Clean horizon. Empty street behind us.

I check my phone out of habit.

A notification lights the screen.

Ryan:

Any thoughts on New York?

Would still love to have you.

“Who’s got you glaring at your phone like that on this fine Saturday morning?”

I pocket my phone.

“It’s Ryan. He’s asking when I’m finally going to hop on a flight and check out VYBE .”

“And when are you finally going to cave? He’s not asking you to marry him. It’s just a visit.”

“Tessa,” I warn, voice low.

She doesn’t flinch. “Babe, I think you should go. I think it would be good for you to get some distance.”

I stop running.

Hands on my thighs, head down, breath steadying.

I straighten. Breathe in.

Breathe out.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” I admit.

“I just don’t want to feel like I’m running away. I don’t want to give him that.”

“You’re not running away,” she says.

“You’re getting distance. And fuck, you deserve it.”

We walk over to the coffee stand near the edge of the park.

The breeze off the water carries salt and silence.

Tessa grabs us two takeaway cups and gestures to the pastry shelf.

“Two almond croissants, please,” she tells the guy behind the counter.

“Just the coffee for me,” I say.

Tessa pauses. Turns.

Looks at me. “You’re not eating?”

I shrug.

“I had a smoothie before I came here.”

She gives me a look.

Not judgemental. Just…

concerned.

I smile like it’s nothing, like I’m fine.

But I didn’t have a smoothie.

I didn’t have anything.

I just didn’t feel hungry.

Or maybe I did and I ignored it.

I don’t know anymore.

All I know is that saying no felt easier than admitting I didn’t know how to eat around the grief.

She hands me my coffee cup and I wrap my hands around the warmth.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe space isn’t surrender.

Maybe distance is the first step toward feeling like myself again.

“Fine,” I sigh, “you win. But you’re holding down the fort while I’m gone.”

Tessa jumps, grinning, coffee nearly flying from her hands.

“Shit, sorry!” she laughs, grabbing my wrist. “This is going to be so good for you.”

And I think she might be right.

I pull out my phone and send a text to Ryan.

Me:

I’ll be there in two weeks.

Just need to make sure things don’t fall apart here while I’m gone.

I hit send.

And just like that, I’m going.

Not to run. Not to forget.

To breathe. To rebuild. To begin.