Page 114 of Press Play

I don’t move until she’s out of sight. The weight of the encounter crashes down all at once. My chest tightens, and I gasp for air, clutching at my ribcage as if it might hold me together.

When I can finally breathe, I take a step forward, shaky and unsteady. One step. Then another.

She’s gone. But her words linger, just like they always do.

All I want to do is leave—turn around and run until I’m back at Theo’s, where it’s safe. My stomach twists, nausea rising up my throat, but I swallow it down and force myself to stand tall. My legs are shaky, my head light, but I keep moving.

Inside, I grab a bag and throw in the essentials, hands trembling as I fumble with zippers and straps. I don’t stop to think or second-guess—just pack, zip, and go.

When I step outside again, the air is thick, and the clouds hang low, heavy and gray with the promise of rain. A storm is coming.

Most people would quicken their pace, eager to get ahead of it, but I do the opposite. I slow my steps, deliberately letting each footfall ground me.

I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the earthy tang that comes before rain. The first drop splashes onto the pavement,and a moment later, the skies open, rain falling in a steady downpour.

The scent is overwhelming in the best way—fresh, clean, alive. I’ve always loved the smell of rain. When I was little, Dad would open the front door during storms, and we’d huddle together, watching the rain sweep across the yard. Those were some of the rare moments when everything felt right, even if it was just for a little while.

Rain clings to me as I step inside. For a moment, I just stand there, dripping onto the entryway floor, clutching at the fond memories—the way they used to calm the chaos, if only briefly.

But there’s no calm here.

Not now.

The air in the room is heavier than the rain-soaked clothes sticking to my skin. Theo hasn’t moved from where I left him, hunched over on the couch, his hands cradling his head like the world’s crushing him.

I drop my bag to the floor with a dull thud, kick off my shoes, and take a step closer.

Theo’s never this quiet—never thisstill.The last time I saw him like this was in high school, when depression swallowed him whole. That was years ago, but the memory twists like a knife in my gut.

“Theo,” I say softly, testing the silence.

I approach him like one may approach a skittish creature—light footsteps, no erratic movements. The last thing I want is to scare him away.

I drop to my knees in front of him. “Hey,” I murmur.

Those dark eyes meet mine, and they widen at the sight of me. “Wren, you’re drenched.” Standing from the couch, he grabs my hand and pulls me toward his room.

“Theo, what are you?—”

“You’re already recovering, the last thing you need is to catch a cold.”

I watch as he goes to his dresser to retrieve a dry shirt and pajama pants. A small smile curls my lips. Theo knows I have clean clothes, but he’d rather put me in his own, and you won’t catch me complaining about it.

“Here.”

He’s so far away...Where are you right now?

I take the clothes and walk into the bathroom to change. I don’t bother closing the door. Theo has seen me naked numerous times now, and something tells me he won’t be stealing a peek today.

After I redress, I enter his room and find him on his bed, his eyes locked on me. This gaze... it’s almost as if he’s committing me to memory, like he’s going to lose me.

“Theo.” I keep my tone soft. “What’s wrong?”

I sit beside him, desperate to reach out and hold him, to fix whatever he’s going through. My heart thuds in my chest, rattling my weak bones and making my temples throb. The uneasiness in my stomach intensifies, and I have to swallow the acid in my throat.

With a long exhale, he asks, “How are you not embarrassed to be seen with me? To bewithme?”

“What?” My brows arch, and I have to stop my voice from rising.

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