Page 64 of Wish You Were Mine (Kings of Eden Falls #3)

LUCY

When I got home, I barely made it three steps inside before Nora looked up from the couch.

Her eyes widened when she took in my puffy face, the slump of my shoulders, the way I couldn’t quite breathe right.

“Oh no, baby,” Nora said, her voice cracking the second she saw me. “It didn’t go well?”

“No—” I shook my head, but the word sounded more like a wounded sob. “I had to break up with him.”

“Oh, Lu…” Her expression crumpled with heartbreak on my behalf.

Then she just opened her arms.

My bag hit the floor with a thud. I walked straight into her hug, folding into her like I was a kid again.

She wrapped me up tight, her arms a cocoon, and I cried.

Hard, ugly sobs that wracked through my whole body and left me empty.

“I’m so sorry, Lucy,” Nora whispered into my hair as she rocked me gently. “I’m so sorry.”

The music was loud in the arena the next afternoon. Every corner of the arena buzzed with energy, with pride, with celebration.

It was Senior Day.

The last home meet of my gymnastics career.

A farewell to four years of grit and glory. A time to look back and feel proud of how far we’d come. Eden Falls had shaped us, broken us, built us, and now—this meet was our final bow.

“Just one apparatus at a time, okay?” Nora squeezed my hand before we were announced, her eyes shimmering with a mix of nostalgia and nerves. “We’ll get through this together.”

“Okay,” I said, still unsure how today would go when I was a complete wreck.

The announcer called my name first, so I jogged onto the floor as the audience clapped and whistled, holding up signs with glittered letters and inside jokes from over the years.

I smiled.

Waved.

Even managed a laugh when the announcer reminded everyone about my freshman debut and how I’d tripped during the march-out, tried to save face with a front handspring, and definitely didn’t land it.

But even though I was doing my best to look happy, on the inside it felt like I was trying to stand on a balance beam in the middle of a hurricane.

Because the pit in my stomach hadn’t left since last night. Since saying goodbye to Owen.

And now, as I bowed in front of the audience and turned to scan the stands, the ache hollowed out again.

Because there it was .

The empty seat.

Right beside Theo.

Like a placeholder for what could have been.

I blinked hard, forcing my smile to stay. Because even though it would have been hard to see him today, knowing he could never be mine, it also felt wrong for him not to be here at the same time.

But he wasn’t here.

Because my dad made me pick Owen’s future over my heart.

When it was time for floor, I stood at the edge of the mat, hands on my hips, breathing deep. My coach gave me a nod. I gave her one back, barely feeling my legs as I moved into position.

The music started. I moved on instinct.

Twist. Leap. Smile.

Push through.

And I didn’t know how, but somehow my body found its rhythm. The muscle memory and hours I’d put in through the years took over. Each pass sharper, more powerful than the last. I danced like my heart hadn’t cracked in two. Tumbled like I hadn’t spent all morning fighting back tears.

And when I landed that final tumbling pass, knees steady, chest high, the crowd exploded.

My coach’s face was pure joy. Nora screamed my name.

And me?

I smiled.

Because I had to.

But as I raised my arms in salute to the judges and glanced back at the stands, that one empty seat made my eyes sting.

Because while I was pretty sure I’d just nailed a career high on floor…maybe even secured first in the all-around…the one person I wanted to celebrate with wasn’t here.

The next week blurred by in a haze of survival.

I switched on autopilot. Forced myself through classes, through practices, through life, because the alternative was lying in bed all day crying into the lavender-scented stuffed cow Owen had once tucked into my backpack.

My appetite was non-existent, replaced by a permanent knot in my stomach that refused to untangle. My whole nervous system felt frayed—jumpy, short-circuited, completely out of sync.

All Monday morning, my anxiety over facing Owen for the first time since our breakup built in slow, pounding waves as the clock ticked toward one o’clock.

By the time I stepped into the science building, my body revolted, and I had to duck into the bathroom while I lost the few bites of toast I’d forced down at lunch.

I stayed in there for a while, leaning over the sink, staring at my reflection as I debated skipping class altogether. Maybe I should just drop the class. Come back as a fifth-year senior in the fall to finish it.

It would be easier than facing him every day.

Easier than pretending the man I loved was just my professor now.

Easier than knowing he could never be mine as long as my dad was still sitting in the president’s office.

But no. If Owen had to still show up… If he had to go about life like nothing had happened over the weekend, then I would, too.

Even if it killed me.

I slipped into the back of the lecture hall ten minutes late, hoping no one would notice—especially him. But the second I sat down, I felt it .

His eyes.

He glanced at me once, the alarm flashing across his face so briefly I might have imagined it, before he forced his gaze away.

And then he kept teaching.

But every word he said, every movement he made, hit me like a jolt. Like the air between us was wired with everything we weren’t allowed to say anymore.

And it hurt so much more than I expected.

By Thursday, I was running on fumes.

I’d made it through several drills at practice, but my legs were shaky. My head felt floaty. Like I was about to tip over and fall straight off the beam during a drill I could normally do in my sleep.

“Lucy, what’s going on?” Coach Chambers blew her whistle and walked over, eyes narrowing. “You sick again?”

My chin trembled.

But before I could even attempt a lie, Nora stepped up beside me, her voice quiet but steady. “She had a bad breakup over the weekend. Hasn’t been able to eat or sleep.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry to hear that.” Coach’s expression softened as she pulled me into her side. “Really. Breakups are rough. Especially with how much pressure you’re under.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah.”

“How about you take ten. Go sit. Try to eat something if you can. Then if you can, we’ll just have you run through your floor routine and call it good, okay?”

“Thanks, Coach,” I whispered, even as guilt clawed at my insides.

This was the worst possible time to have a nervous breakdown.

Conference Championships were on Sunday. The team was counting on me .

Still, I grabbed my water bottle and sat down on the edge of the floor mat, my muscles aching and my head pounding.

It wouldn’t be much of a break, though. Because in a few hours, I had Owen’s lab.

And the thought of walking into that room—watching him stand at the front, so close and yet so impossibly out of reach—made my stomach twist all over again.