Page 119 of Press Play

Then I see him. Theo.

He’s in the water, thrashing, his face twisted in panic.

“Wren!” he calls out, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves. His hands reach out for me, desperate.

I dive in without thinking, the icy water swallowing me whole. My arms and legs are sluggish, like I’m moving through tar. No matter how hard I fight, I can’t get to him. The harder I swim, the farther away he drifts.

“Let him go, Wren.” Mom’s voice cuts through the roar, detached and unyielding. Her eyes pierce into me, cold and distant. “You’ll lose him anyway.”

“No!” I scream as I lunge forward.

My fingers brush Theo’s, his skin slick and cold, but just as I grab hold, something unseen yanks him beneath the surface.

“Theo!” I shout, thrashing against the ink-black waves, but he’s gone, the water stilling as if he was never there.

The water surges, rising to my chin, my mouth, my nose. I can’t breathe—can’t move—and all I hear is her voice echoing in my head:

“You can’t save everyone—You can’t even save yourself.”

I wake with a start, gasping for air, my chest heaving. For a moment, I can still feel the water pressing down on me, the ache in my fingers from trying to hold him as he slipped away. Fucking hell, I haven’t had a nightmare that intense since. . . well, before I moved in with Theo. I didn’t plan on sleeping. I figured it wouldn’t find me between the run-in with my mother and the circumstances with Theo. Honestly, it would have been better if it didn’t because now my body is on high alert.

“She’s not here,” I remind myself. “She doesn’t know where I am, and no one will tell her. I’m safe.”

With a sigh, I sit up and rake my fingers through my hair. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep with it damp because now the curls are beyond salvageable. For a moment, the voice in my head is quiet. It’s not telling me I’m going to lose the one person I lovethe most or how I’ll end up alone and forgotten. It’s only until the subtle click of a certain someone’s door closing that it all resumes.

Robbie didn’t stay long last night, and I hope that means he got through to him. I won’t know until I confront him, and at this point, I want to peel off the Band-Aid and get it over with. Either I lose him now or I’ll lose him later. . .

Or you don’t lose him at all.But that part of my brain isn’t loud enough to grant me a speck of hope.

When you grow up in a house of fake promises, it becomes second nature to expect the worst out of any scenario. If I become too optimistic, my heart will most likely break. It’s easier to prepare for the worst. At least then, my heart is a little safer.

Without thinking too hard, I slip out of bed and head for the shower.

Just breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe.

The water pounds against my back, so hot it’s almost painful, but no amount of scalding heat can burn away the ache in my chest. It sits there, heavy and suffocating, like I’m carrying the weight of every word I didn’t say. My fingers tremble as I press them against the tile, the cool ceramic biting against my skin.

“Don’t cry,” I whisper to myself over and over, but the knot in my throat is relentless.

I want to scream, to rage, but instead, I let the water steal my words, as if it can drown the tears I refuse to shed.

But it’s not my mom I want to cry over. It’s Theo.

What the hell is he thinking? He can’t seriously believe he’s doing this for my sake. He’s always protected me, always put my safety above all else, but this... This is beyond reason. This is him playing hero, and for what? He’s so goddamn stubborn. Always has been. And now he’s backed me into a corner. I didn’t want to bring Robbie into this. I didn’t want to drag anyone else into our mess, but what choice did I have?

I remember one night in college when Theo called me at three a.m., his voice shaking. He never told me what happened—he didn’t need to. I found him sitting on the steps outside his dorm, his hands buried in his hair. He didn’t look at me when I sat beside him, just leaned into my shoulder like it was the only thing keeping him upright. That night, I promised myself I’d always be his anchor. But anchors don’t work when the chain’s been cut.

We’ve always been each other’s rock. His calm when he needed it, his storm when he couldn’t muster the courage to rage himself. And now, when we finally have each other the way we always dreamed—no barriers, no boundaries—he’s shutting me out.

Doesn’t he see? This isn’t just about him, about me. It’s about everything we’ve built, every fragile moment we’ve fought for. We’ve spent years walking the razor’s edge between hope and heartbreak, and now he’s ready to throw it all away. For what? To prove he can do it alone?

He told me about Amanda and the blackmail, so he must want me to stop him. He needs me to stop him. But the truth he can’t admit and the truth I can’t escape is this: if I push too hard, if I let the wrong words slip, I might lose him forever.

The water beats against my skin, but my mind races ahead of me, trying to piece together the right plan. The right words.

I just need to figure out how . . .

I summon the walls that once protected me and walk into the living room. The barrier I tried to raise is quickly demolished when his eyes lock with mine. I slept last night, but Theo most certainly did not. He’s exhausted in more ways than one, and all I want to do is hold him close so he can rest.

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