Page 180 of Well That Happened

But at night, when the streets quiet and Jules is snoring with a podcast still playing, I lie on my narrow twin bed and press my phone to my chest like maybe it still remembers their voices.

I’m doing everything I ever dreamed.

I just didn’t know it would feel so lonely.

Chapter Fifty-One

Hunter

I can’t get out of bed for the first three days after Rilee leaves.

That’s not hyperbole. Not dramatic flair. Just fact.

Three days.

I stare at the ceiling like it might offer answers. Like if I blink long enough, she’ll be there again—curled next to me, hogging the blanket, mumbling about her pharmacology quiz.

But she’s not.

And she’s not coming back.

I’ve never missed a practice in four years of playing Michigan hockey. Not for illness. Not for injury. Not even for the flu I once puked through an entire third period with.

But I miss three this week.

Because I can’t move.

The ache in my chest isn’t physical—not exactly. But it hurts in that slow, consuming way heartbreak does. Like something inside me cracked wide open and I don’t know how to fix it.

Grayson tries first. Just walks in one morning, shoves a plate of eggs into my hands, and says, “Eat.”

I do.

Not because I want to.

But because it’s Gray.

Caleb sits on the edge of the bed the next night, his voice quiet. “She’s okay. I texted her. She’s in San Diego. Said the job’s started.”

I nod.

That’s all I can do.

Because none of it matters.

Not hockey. Or my own finals. Not her new job. Not the sunshine she probably walks under every damn day.

Because I’m still here.

And she’s not.

And the worst part?

We never got goodbye.

Just silence.

And a door that closed behind her, final and unnerving.

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