Page 198 of The Fine Line

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Silence.

“Rhett. Are you hurt?”

“No,” I croak.

Not really. The physical pain doesn’t even compare.

“What happened?”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

“I did,” I whisper. “I fucked up.”

He’s quiet. For a second I expect the sigh. The disappointment. TheI told you so.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead:

“We’ll fix it.”

“No. You don’t get it.” My voice cracks again. “I’m done. I fucked everything. I can’t fix it. Not this time.”

“That’s why I saidwewill.”

Tears burn my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I choke. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jamesy.”

“You’re not done,” he says firmly. “I won’t let you be.”

I press the heel of my hand to my eyes, shoulders shaking.

“Come home.”

He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

A long beat passes.

“Come home. We’ll fix it.”

forty-eight

CAROLINE

Chicago, IL, USA

I don’t know where it broke.

Wherewebroke.

Maybe we were never whole to begin with. Maybe I just told myself that we were. That I was safe. That we were solid.

I don’t know. But we’re broken now.

I pull my blazer tighter around me, my eyes fixed on the ice as the players take their positions for the opening faceoff. My breath leaves me in short, even exhales.

I’m fine. I’ve survived worse. I don’t need him. I don’t need this. I don’t care.

I repeat it like a mantra as Rhett skates to the center dot. But my eyes find him, and the words feel like ash in my throat.

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