Page 25
Blast From the Past
T he early autumn sun filters through the trees at Ebonridge University, casting dappled shadows across the same paths I once walked. My fingers tighten around the strap of my designer bag as I take in the familiar redbrick buildings and manicured lawns that once served as the backdrop to my carefully constructed prison where, funny enough, I felt the freest. It’s been over a year since I was dragged away from this place—from Alex—and into the nightmare of Munich from where they shipped me straight to Shark Bay. The memories swirl around me like fallen leaves—the midnight study sessions in Alex’s cramped dorm room, the stolen kisses behind the library stacks, and the false sense of normalcy I clung to even as my parents’ web tightened around me.
Now I’m back, and everything looks the same. Yet nothing is.
Students mill about between classes, oblivious to who I am or what I’ve survived. Their carefree laughter and casual touches feel like scenes from another lifetime—one where I hadn’t yet learned the cost of trust. One where I hadn’t been forced to witness Erik’s slow, methodical breaking at my parents’ gathering, where I hadn’t fought tooth and nail to escape with him when David finally came through with the evidence.
My heels click against the concrete pathway as I make my way toward the psychology building where Alex should be finishing his class. The sound echoes like a countdown, each step bringing me closer to confronting another ghost from my past.
“You don’t have to do this,” Erik had said this morning, his arms wrapped around me from behind as I stood staring at my reflection. His storm-gray eyes met mine in the mirror, that familiar protective intensity burning in them. “We can turn around, go back to Boston.”
I’d turned in his embrace, pressing my lips to the scar along his jaw—a permanent reminder of what my father’s men did to him when they dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night. “I need to do this,” I’d whispered against his skin. “I need to close this chapter properly.”
Now, as I approach the school building, that certainty wavers. What right do I have to disrupt Alex’s life again? After everything I put him through—the manipulation, the lies, the abrupt, cruel departure—wouldn’t it be kinder to let him forget me?
Before I can reconsider, the doors to the building swing open, and students begin pouring out. I press myself against a nearby tree, scanning faces until?—
There he is.
Despite the photos I’ve seen, Alex looks different, yet achingly familiar. His hair is shorter, his shoulders broader, his stance more confident. He’s laughing at something the petite redhead beside him has said, his head tilted back in that way that makes his entire face transform. The sight of him—whole, happy, rested, unburdened by the darkness that follows me like a shadow—sends a jolt through my chest.
I step forward without conscious thought, drawn by an invisible thread that still connects us despite everything that’s happened.
“Alex.”
His name falls from my lips like a prayer, too soft to carry across the crowded walkway. But somehow, impossibly, he hears. His head turns, eyes scanning the crowd until they land on me. The laughter dies on his lips, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief that makes my stomach clench.
For a long, suspended moment, we simply stare at each other across the sea of moving bodies. Then, with a few murmured words to the redhead, he starts moving toward me, his expression unreadable.
I force myself to stand my ground, though every instinct screams at me to run. This isn’t Shark Bay, and Alex isn’t Erik. I don’t know my role here, don’t have a script to follow or a mask to hide behind.
“Luna?” He stops a few feet away, close enough that I can see the flecks of amber in his brown eyes, the slight furrow between his brows. “Is that really you?”
I swallow hard, finding my voice. “It’s me.”
“Jesus.” He runs a hand through his hair—that familiar nervous gesture that makes my heart ache with remembered intimacy. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you,” I admit, the truth easier than expected. “To talk to you. If that’s okay.”
He glances back at the redhead, who’s watching us with undisguised curiosity. “I’ll catch up with you later.” She nods and walks away, throwing one last glance over her shoulder.
“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?” I ask, too aware of the curious stares from passing students.
Alex hesitates, then nods. “My apartment is close. We can walk there.”
The ten-minute walk passes in loaded silence. I steal glances at his profile, cataloging the changes a year has wrought. There’s a hardness to his jaw that wasn’t there before, a guardedness in his posture that I recognize all too well. I did that to him.
His apartment is small but tidy, with mismatched furniture and textbooks stacked on every surface. It feels lived-in, personal in a way that makes my chest tighten with an emotion I can’t name.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, keys jangling as he drops them on a side table.
“No, thank you.” I remain standing, unable to settle into this space that belongs so entirely to him. “I won’t stay long.”
He leans against the wall, crossing his arms. “Why are you here, Luna? After a year of silence, you just… show up? I thought you were done with me.”
The hurt in his voice slices through me. “I never wanted to leave you,” I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “My parents forced me to. They threatened to hurt you if I didn’t cut all contact.” The memory of my father’s cold smile as he showed me the photographs of Alex leaving his apartment and going to class, completely unaware of the men following him, makes my stomach turn even now. “One call,” he’d said, tapping his finger against Alex’s face in the glossy print. “That’s all it takes.”
His expression shifts from guarded to confused. “What are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I reply, not seeing the point of going into the details. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I wanted to come here to look you in the eyes and say thank you. I wanted to make sure that you were safe, healthy, and happy. Are you, Alex? Happy?”
I can see Alex choosing his words carefully. The fact is, he’s always been good at these kinds of subtle details. Too good, maybe. After everything that has happened, my trust is as shattered as the teacup that fell from my hands to the expensive floor.
“Yes, I’m healthy and happy,” he finally responds and seems to mean it. “I won’t lie; it took me a while to get my shit together, but I think I’m on a good track now.”
A lightness spreads through my chest. Despite everything, knowing that he’s recovered from my selfish actions gives me a strange sense of peace.
“I’m glad, Alex, and I really wanted to apologize for the way I treated you,” I tell him. “You deserved so much more than a toxic bitch like me.”
Alex laughs. “Oh, come on. You’re definitely not a bitch. And I was hardly an angel either.”
“There is nothing I did that you deserved, and if I could take it back?—”
“But we can’t,” Alex interrupts and nods. “Still, as far as my shitty love life goes, you’re a faint but fond memory from the past. A good girl turned not so good. Lesson learned. We weren’t good for each other, but that doesn’t mean we were always bad. I’m sorry for not being what you needed, Luna. I hope you’re happy now.”
“I’m getting there,” I say, not bothering to correct him. I’ve done enough damage for one lifetime. “Thank you for still trying to save me. You’re a good man, Alex.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles and shakes his head, “a total gentleman, right? Okay, how’s this: You’re welcome. I’m happy you’re alive and breathing. I think you’ve suffered enough, and I do wish you happiness.”
I force a smile, trying to ignore the unfamiliar hollow sensation that threatens to engulf me. It’s like standing in the doorway between two rooms—one containing everything I once thought I wanted, and the other holding everything I’ve fought to build. The ache isn’t for what might have been with Alex, I realize, but for the girl I was when I loved him—before Shark Bay, before I gathered the strength to fight my family’s darkness. “Me too.”
“Hug?” Alex asks, a small smile on his face.
I step closer, allowing him to envelop me into his arms. This—he—was my home for a long time. Maybe even my first one. “Meeting you was the first time I felt something real. You saw parts of me no one else did, and it terrified me,” I whisper, giving him one last silent confession. “I pushed you away because I was afraid of what would happen if I let myself need you. And then, when my parents threatened to hurt you… it broke something in me.”
“Thank you for telling me,” he murmurs against my hair. “And for coming back. I spent a long time wondering what happened between us. It sucks living with ‘what-ifs.’”
I cling to him, allowing myself this one moment of comfort before I pull away. His familiar scent—pine and clean laundry—brings back memories of stolen kisses in empty classrooms, of confessions whispered in the dark.
“I never stopped caring about you,” I admit, looking up at him. “Even when I was with other people at Shark Bay, even when I was trying so hard to forget you… part of me also always wondered what could have been if things were different.”
Something shifts in his gaze, darkening it. His hand moves to my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone in a touch so achingly familiar that my breath catches. For a suspended moment, I’m transported back to who we were before everything shattered—two broken people finding temporary solace in each other’s damage.
“Luna,” he whispers, his voice dropping to that register that once made my knees weak. “I?—”
I press my fingers to his lips, stopping him before he can say something we might both regret. “Don’t. Please. I didn’t come here to complicate your life again. I just needed closure.”
“And what if I don’t want closure?” His hand slides to the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. “What if I’ve spent a year thinking about what I would do if I ever saw you again?”
Heat blooms in my chest, spreading through my veins like wildfire. This is dangerous—I know it, and I can feel it in the way my body instinctively leans toward his, in the memory of how perfectly we once fit together. But I’m not that person anymore. I’ve fought too hard and lost too much to slip back into old patterns.
“I can’t,” I say, the words costing me more than he’ll ever know. “I’m with Erik now. And you deserve someone who hasn’t been… broken the way I have.”
Pain flashes across his features, quickly masked. “You’re not broken, Luna. You’re a survivor. And for what it’s worth… I’m proud of you. For getting away from your parents. For finding the strength to fight back.”
Tears prick at my eyes, unexpected and unwelcome. “Thank you for saying that.”
He steps back, putting the necessary distance between us. His eyes lock on mine, a gentle smile touching his lips. “I’m really glad to see you again. You look better. Healthier. Like you’re finally finding peace.”
“I’m trying,” I say, returning his smile. “Some days are harder than others. But I’m not alone anymore. That helps.”
Alex walks me to the door. “Take care of yourself, Luna.”
“You too.” I hesitate, then reach up to touch his face one last time, memorizing the feel of him. “Be happy, Alex. You deserve it.”
“So do you,” he says, covering my hand with his own. “And, Luna? If you ever need anything—anything at all—I’m here. No strings attached.”
I nod, afraid to speak past the lump in my throat. Then, before I can change my mind, I turn and walk away, each step taking me farther from what might have been and closer to what is.
Erik is waiting in the rental car, just as promised. His face lights up when he sees me, that rare, genuine smile that still makes my heart skip. “How did it go?” he asks as I slide into the passenger seat.
I lean across the console and kiss him, pouring everything I can’t say into the press of my lips against his. He responds immediately, one hand cradling my face with that careful tenderness that still surprises me after everything we’ve been through.
“That good, huh?” he murmurs when we break apart, his thumb tracing my lower lip.
“It was necessary,” I say, settling back into my seat. “And now it’s done. Take me home, Erik.”
As we drive away from Ebonridge, I don’t look back. The past will always be part of me—the darkness, the trauma, the people I’ve hurt and been hurt by. But for the first time, it doesn’t feel like a chain around my neck.
I reach for Erik’s hand, intertwining our fingers as the university fades in the rearview mirror. “Thank you for waiting,” I say softly.
His grip tightens, a silent promise. “Always.”
We drive in comfortable silence, heading back toward the uncertain future that awaits us. There will be more battles to fight, more demons to face. But right now, in this moment, I allow myself to believe in possibility. In healing. In the kind of love that doesn’t destroy, but builds.
And for today, that’s enough.