Page 94 of Ripple Effect

Before I can formulate a proper response, Elio appears at my side, red Solo cup in hand. He passes the drink over, and I stare down at the contents for a quick beat. It’s something pink, and it smells fruity and sweet.

He once told me he’s off booze, and I’ve certainly never seen him drink, so I have no idea what this could be. Regardless, it’s something to hold—a way to keep my hands busy—grounding me in the midst of chaos.

“Hey, guys,” he says, his voice smooth and confident. “I’m Elio, Daisy’s boyfriend.”

The group grows silent for a long moment, caught off guard by his presence. There are a few blatant stares, some of the guys awkwardly sizing him up before they even bother to acknowledge his greeting.

Nessa, on the other hand, shoots me a sly look before she asks, “So, how long have you and Daisy been together? A few months now?”

I’m not sure if she wants to catch me in a lie or if she just wants to make me more uncomfortable than I already am. But whatever her game plan is, I think it might be working.

Elio’s dark eyes flicker to mine for a moment. “No, not long,” he says with a shrug, slipping an arm around my shoulders.

I’m grateful for his casual response, for his ability to swoop in and know exactly what I need, but I’m upset that I put him in this position in the first place—one where he feels the need to defend our relationship.

Before I can get a word in, another one of my old friends speaks up, trying to apologize for Nessa. He says that they just haven’t heard from me, and it’s hard to know what to even say. He argues that they’re all used to seeing me with Logan, despite how much that might sting to hear.

“Well, she is her own fucking person,” Elio cuts in, his voice carrying an air of authority I didn’t know he possessed. It’s like he’s daring them to challenge him, to say another negative word against me.

The atmosphere grows tense, and I take a timid sip of the mystery liquid to distract myself.Strawberry wine. Because of course it is.

“Um, anyway, it was good to see you guys,” I carefully interrupt. “We’re gonna go grab another drink.”

As we walk away, the weight of curious eyes follows us, likely wondering about our relationship, questioning my every decision. Yet for me, a silent realization takes root: our dynamic has irrevocably changed, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

At least now I have the answers I’ve been looking for, and I know that leaving them all behind wasn’t the wrong choice.

We step into the kitchen together, and I sink against the countertop. The cool touch of the granite countertop presses into my skin, anchoring me back to the present.

“You okay?” Elio asks, gaze tracing over my pinched features.

I nod, taking another slow sip of my drink. “Yeah, just ... I wasn’t expecting all of that, I guess.”

“I can tell,” he says as he wraps his arms around me. “But you handled it well.”

“I’m sorry for how they treated you.”

He waves off my concern. “Don’t be. You can always lean on me, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

We stand there together, the noise from the gathering a quiet murmur in the background. As much as I disliked this whole experience, facing my past head-on was the closure I needed. And having Elio by my side made it all the more bearable.

“Do you think we could sneak out of here without anyone noticing?” I ask, my voice a hushed whisper.

“Yeah, but first—”

Before he can finish, the door to the kitchen swings open, revealing the person I least want to see at this moment. Logan’s face is a mixture of surprise, anger, and something else entirely unreadable. Our gazes lock, and for a moment, a strange sense of fear strikes me.

Despite our past—all the good, happy memories that we’ve shared—all I can picture now is how he acted the last time I saw him. The way he yelled at me outside of my apartment, the way he refused to leave, and all the nasty things he accused me of doing.

“Daisy.” Logan’s voice is a rough whisper, laden with a mix of nostalgia and yearning. “I didn’t think you’d really come.”

A pause hangs in the air, the weight of our shared history pressing down. But before I can find the right words, Elio steps in, physically placing himself between our past and our present. His posture is protective, ready, a silent guardian shielding me from the emotional minefield Logan represents.

I finally muster up the courage to speak. “I just wanted to come and see everyone. To, um, formally close this chapter of my life. You know?”

“Right, of course.” Logan’s eyes darken, and he takes a step forward. “And you don’t give a shit aboutmyclosure, right?”

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