Page 30 of Shattered Dreams

"Nowthat," he says, standing and offering his hand to me, "I can get behind."

I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel like I’m just surviving the day, but rather like I might actually make it through everything.

11

AVA

The drive to the hotel is short but scenic—tree-lined roads winding toward the edge of the next town, where everything feels just slightly removed from real life. I let the music play, let the morning light settle on my skin, and try to stay in a better mood than I have been in days.

It's easy being with Kieron; it always has been.

The hotel is modern but rustic, all wooden beams and high ceilings. The lobby is flooded with sunlight thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows. We head to the little cafe before sliding into a corner booth, just as a server brings menus. Kieron orders tea without needing to look, while I ask for coffee, black. We order an assortment of food to ease our hangovers too.

For a while, we just sit together. I like how I feel anonymous here, like no one knows who I am or how broken I feel.

I’m just Ava.

"Are you okay?" Kieron asks quietly, stirring his tea. He keeps asking me that, but I’m grateful.

"I'm better than I was yesterday. I'm worse than I want to be."

"That's fair."

I glance out the window at the street beyond. "This is nice."

"It is." He takes a sip, then sets the cup down. "That's why I came here. I knew you’d like it."

I look at him. "Did you think I would come with you?"

"No." He gives me a small smile. "I hoped."

His honesty floors me more than it should, and right now, I appreciate honesty more than anything else. I shift in my seat, my gaze dropping to the table. "Last night I wasn't thinking clearly. About anything."

"I know."

"I just—" I pause. "I needed tofeelsomething.Anything."

"You don't have to explain," he says, voice low. "I get it."

I glance up. "Do you?"

"Yes, Ava. I'm not here to cash in on your pain."

God, he’s so fucking nice. I don’t deserve him.

The server returns with food—pastries, eggs, pancakes, and bacon. It gives us both a moment to breathe.

"I'm scared," I confide quietly after she walks away.

Kieron doesn't flinch. "Of what?"

"That if I let myself want anything, it'll mean I've given up on what I had. On what I thought Roman and I were."

He nods slowly. "Letting yourself want something else doesn't mean what you had wasn't real. It just means you're allowed to change. You're allowed to heal."

“I don’t want to hurtyouthough.”

Because part of me is still stuck in that space between grief and survival, and it fucking sucks.