Page 16

Chloe

M y heart flutters into my throat as the doorbell chimes through our house. I spring up from my bed, nearly knocking over the pile of archaeology textbooks on my nightstand. Could it be Jackson? Maybe he planned to come over and that’s why he hasn’t texted me back.

I dash to the mirror, frantically smoothing my frizzy ponytail and quickly swipe on some lip balm. I wrinkle my nose at my reflection then remind myself this is Jackson. He’s seen me in my PJs before for goodness sakes.

Bounding down the stairs, I reach for the doorknob with trembling fingers, glad I got there before Dad did.

I swing open the door, a greeting ready on my lips. But the words die in my throat.

"Hey, Chloe." Brendan's smooth voice makes my stomach lurch.

"Brendan." I struggle to keep my voice steady. "What are you doing here?"

He leans against the doorframe. "Can’t a guy come and say hi?”

I cross my arms, steeling myself against the memories threatening to surface. It still stings—him ending things so abruptly and his behavior afterwards. But that’s it—just a little sting. Soon I suspect the hurt won’t even register.

“I thought I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with you.”

“We have a history, babe.”

“So that means you can just turn up on my doorstep?”

Brendan's smile falters for a moment. “Don't be like that. I've missed you. I just want to talk."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "I think you should leave," I say, gripping the edge of the door.

Brendan's eyes narrow slightly. "Come on, Chloe. We were good together. Remember all those nights stargazing at Elmwood Pier? All the movie watching and listening to music together?”

“Yeah, and all the plans we’d made for the future. Before you—” I jab a finger in his direction “—ended everything over text.”

Brendan reaches out, his fingers brushing my arm. I flinch away. "Babe, I made a mistake. I know that now. I got scared and things were…you know…not really going anywhere.”

I fix him with a look. He’s talking about sex. He wanted it while I wanted to wait. It was always a problem between us.

“Then perhaps you should be asking your new girlfriend about that.”

Creases appear between Brendan’s brows. “I don’t want Maisie. I want you.”

I shake my head. It’s so hard to remember how I used to feel about him now. I can’t feel any of the love or the excited flutters. Now I just recall how he controlled and pressured me. How he dictated what I wore and what I did. I can’t believe I let it go on so long.

"No, Brendan. It's not me you want. It's the idea of me—someone who'll boost your ego and never challenge you. But that's not who I am anymore."

Brendan's eyes widen, his jaw working. "You don't mean that," he finally says, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of anger. "We were good together, Chloe. You can't just throw that away."

I almost laugh at the irony. "Throw it away? You already did that, Brendan.”

His face flushes, and I can see him scrambling to regain control of the situation. But I'm done letting Brendan Thompson dictate my feelings.

"Have you even split up with Maisie?”

“I’m going to—”

“She deserves better, Brendan. And so do I.”

"Chloe, wait—"

I don't. With one swift motion, I slam the door shut, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. The sound reverberates through the house, matching the thundering in my chest.

I lean against the door, breathing hard. Part of me wants to cry but a stronger part feels...liberated. I straighten up, squaring my shoulders.

I'm halfway up the stairs when I hear footsteps behind me. My dad's concerned voice follows. "Chloe? Everything okay, sweetie? I thought I heard Brendan.” He cocks his head. “And then the door slam. Very hard.”

I freeze, caught between the urge to retreat to my room and the sudden, overwhelming desire to spill everything. Dad's been battling his own demons lately. The last thing I want is to add to his burden.

“Sorry, Dad. It won’t happen again.”

“Mom says you and Brendan had a bit of bad breakup.”

Taking a deep breath, I release my grip on the stair rail and turn around, remembering what Jackson said about my parents being adults and me being able to share my troubles with them.

"Yeah. He, uh,...he wants to get back together."

Dad's brow furrows. "And how do you feel about that?"

I hesitate and descend the steps to stand in front of Dad.

"I told him I don’t want to get back together," I admit.

His eyes soften, and he gestures toward the living room. "Want to talk about it?"

Not really. But if I want a better relationship with my dad, I have to try and he’s making the effort. For once, I need to accept that and not try to deal with everything on my own.

I nod, following him to the worn leather couch that I swear my parents bought before I was born but no one can bring themselves to replace.

"He cheated on me, Dad. With a younger girl from school. And as far as I can tell, he’s still with her.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and raw. Dad's eyes narrow before he offers me a sympathetic look. "Oh, Chlo.” He grabs my hand and squeezes it tight.

"I felt so stupid," I continue, tears pricking at my eyes. "Everyone knew before I did…" I trail off, remembering the humiliation.

Dad squeezes my hand. "You are anything but stupid, Chloe. You're brilliant, kind, and stronger than you know.”

"Thanks, Dad," I murmur, leaning into him.

Dad tightens an arm around me, and I breathe in the familiar scent of his aftershave mixed with the faint aroma of coffee.

"You know," he says, his voice a gentle rumble, "I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you.”

I pull back, wiping at my eyes. "Really? Because most days I feel like I'm barely keeping it together."

He chuckles softly. "You’re not the only one but here’s the thing, we're all just barely keeping it together. No adult really knows what they’re doing. We just have to keep pushing forward.”

I think about Dad and how he fights every day to even exist and nod. I know how tough his worst days can be.

“Your Mom says there, uh, might be a new boyfriend on the horizon?”

“ Thanks, Mom ,” I mutter with a grin. “Actually, I don’t know what he is yet.”

After yesterday’s kiss, I don’t know where I stand, especially if he’s avoiding me. So much for being honest with each other.

“I only ask because I heard about the fire at his dad’s work. How's Jackson doing? Is he okay?"

"A fire?" I repeat, confused.

"I just heard about it on the local news feed."

The world tilts on its axis. "A fire?" I repeat again. Images of Jackson, surrounded by flames and smoke, flash through my mind. "Is Jackson okay? Was he there? What happened?"

Dad shakes his head. "I don't have all the details, honey. I thought you might know. They just said it happened a few hours ago. No word on injuries yet."

My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. Jackson practically lives at that shop. He hasn’t texted me all day. If he was there when the fire broke out...

"I have to go," I blurt out, already moving toward the door. My hands are shaking as I grab my keys from the hook. "I need to make sure he's all right."

"Chloe, wait—" Dad starts, but I'm already halfway out the door.

"I'll call you when I know something," I promise over my shoulder, my feet carrying me swiftly down the porch steps.

God, what if he’s seriously injured.

What if he’s dead?

No. I can't think like that. I have to focus on getting to him.

As I slide into my car, I realize my hands are trembling so badly I can barely get the key in the ignition.

I start the car and peel out of the driveway, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

The quiet streets of Elmwood Glen blur past as I push the speed limit, every second feeling like an eternity.

I should have told him yesterday. I shouldn’t have wasted time. I should have said how amazing that kiss was and that I wanted more.

Why didn’t I tell him how I felt?

Because you were scared.

I was. I didn’t want him rejecting me. Or telling me he only sees me as his best friend’s little sis. But this is worse. Now, I don’t even care if he laughs at me for my feelings—not that he would. All I need to know is he’s okay.

"God, let him be okay,” I say aloud.

I can’t lose him. Not now.