Page 116 of Press Play

The room spins around me, stealing my air and leaving me dizzy. He may not realize it, but he’s made up his mind, and no rational idea will penetrate his standing.

“You haven’t asked me how I feel about being plastered all over the internet,” I mutter. “My opinion matters, right?”

“Of course it does.” Theo’s voice softens, and he looks down at his hands.

“You’ll sleep with a snake to protect me, but I’d let that serpent share our video and shame me to the ends of the earth to protectus. I don’t care, Theo. All that matters is you—us.”

He turns his head, and his brown eyes glisten as he holds back his tears. “I won’t let her do that to you.”

“It’s my body!Myface is in that video. I have a say in this as much as you do. Let her post the video. For once, let me protect you!”

“Wren—”

“Don’t ‘Wren’ me,” I snap. “We look out for each other. Let me help you.”

“She can’t post that video.”

“Why not!?” I shriek.

He breaks our eye contact, and I’m left trembling.

This can’t be happening. Theo is the one person I can trust to keep my heart safe—to keep me safe.

“Don’t do this,” I plead, tears slipping from my eyes. “Please.”

“I’m sorry, Wren.” His voice breaks, and the barrier around my heart crumbles to nothing.

“You’ll destroy us,” I cry.

All he can do is nod.

Without another word, I stand and storm out of the room. I walk toward the front door but stop when my hand reaches the handle.

I don’t know how long I stand there, trembling, but when I finally look back toward his bedroom, I expect to see him coming after me.

He doesn’t.

And somehow, it hurts more than everything he said. She’s going to win, and he’s not going to do anything to stop it.

No.

Not this time. I’m tired of people like her and my mother winning. It’s time I take matters into my own hands.

No more running.

Chapter Forty-One

Theo

Come back.

Please . . . come back.

My tears burn as they fall, hot and relentless, carving jagged paths down my cheeks. My chest heaves, each gasp slicing through me like broken glass.

She promised she wouldn’t leave, but now she’s gone. And it’s my fault. I shoved her away, yet every fiber of me screams for her to come back.

She said she wouldn’t run anymore.

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