Page 109 of Puck Your Feelings

The duffle bag zips shut with a sound of finality.

"Where are you going?" I sound desperate.

"Literally anywhere but here." He shoulders the bag. "Just because you don't have any feelings doesn't mean other people don't."

The words knock the air from my lungs.

I have feelings. Too many of them. They're drowning me, pulling me under, and I don't know how to surface without dragging him down too.

But I can't say that. So I stand there like the coward I am and take it.

He moves to the door, hand on the handle, and for a wild moment I think this is it—he's going to leave without another word.

But then he pauses, looking back over his shoulder. His expression softens just a fraction, and it hurts more than his anger did.

"When you figure out what you actually want, I'll be here. But I'm not waiting forever."

The door opens. Closes. The sound echoes in the suddenly too-large space.

I stand there for I don't know how long. Could be seconds. Could be hours. Time does this weird thing where it stops meaning anything, and I'm just existing in this moment where Becker was here and now he's not.

My legs give out.

I don't remember deciding to sit, but suddenly I'm on my bunk—the bottom one, the one I claimed that first day because I needed control over something. The mattress smells like him. Like us. Like the mistake I just made.

My phone is in my hand. I don't remember taking it out.

The screen is too bright. My father's last message stares back at me:Tick tock.

My fingers shake as I type. Delete. Type again.

Me:It's done.

I hit send before I can second-guess myself, then power off the phone completely because I can't handle whatever response he sends. Can't handle the satisfaction I know will be in his words.

The phone goes dark in my palm.

I lie down on my side, curling around the empty space where Becker should be, and finally let myself break.

The first sob catches me off guard, ripping out of my chest with enough force that it hurts. Then another. And another. Until I'm crying so hard I can't breathe, or think, or do anything but feel the weight of what I just did crushing down on me.

I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me.

I pushed away the only person who made me feel like I could be something other than Kane Marcus's son.

I chose my father over the man I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love with.

For his own good, I tell myself.To protect him.

But the justification feels hollow now, echoing in the empty cabin where Becker's absence is louder than any words.

My face is wet. The pillow is wet. Everything is wet and messy and wrong, and I can't stop crying long enough to care.

This is what protection feels like, apparently.

It feels like dying.

CHAPTER 29