Page 12 of The Hang Up
“And then you show up again like some ghost from the past, popping up everywhere I go, and for what? You want a second chance? You want me to forget all the nights I cried myself to sleep?”
“Lena—”
“No!” I yell, my voice cracking. “You don’t get to say my name like that anymore. You don’t get to look at me like I’m still yours.”
He swallows hard, his jaw tight. “I never stopped?—”
“Don’t,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Don’t say you never stopped loving me. Don’t say you missed me. Because if you did, you would’ve called. You would’ve written. You would’ve done something.”
“I was trying to be better for you,” he says quietly. “I thought I had to prove myself. I thought leaving was the only way.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” I snap, my vision blurry with unshed tears. “Because the only thing you proved was that when it mattered most, you weren’t there.”
A long silence stretches between us, thick with everything we’ve never said.
I take a shaky breath and step back. My voice is softer now, but no less firm. “I survived without you. I built a life. I don’t need you anymore, Holden.”
He nods slowly, his eyes shining. “I know. I know you don’t.”
And somehow, that hurts even more.
I turn and walk away, my legs trembling. By the time I round the corner and Clay & Cupcakes comes into view, my heart is racing and my hands won’t stop shaking.
Auden and Arlowe are standing out front, holding coffee cups and talking quietly. They see me, and their expressions instantly shift.
“Hey,” Auden says softly. “Are you okay?”
I nod once. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Lie.
They exchange a glance but don’t push.
I brush past them, unlock the door, and head inside. The familiar scent of sugar and freshly brewed espresso hits me like a balm, but it doesn’t soothe the ache in my chest.
I hang up my coat, wash my hands, and start prepping the dough for the morning pastries. My hands move automatically, measuring, mixing, and kneading, but my mind is elsewhere.
Still stuck in the town square. Still echoing with the sound of my voice breaking. Still seeing the way Holden looked at me like I’d torn his heart out of his chest.
Maybe I did, but he tore mine out first.
I set the dough aside to rise and line the muffin tins, willing myself to focus. To breathe.
The bell over the door jingles, and customers trickle in. I plaster on a smile, take their orders, and pretend that nothing has changed.
But everything has.
I yelled at Holden. I let it all out—the pain, the rage, the heartbreak.
And now… now I don’t know what comes next.
SIX
Holden
I stand in front of Clay & Cupcakes with two cups of coffee and a brownie—Lena’s favorite. The kind with the crackly top and gooey center, still warm from the oven. The kind she made for herself on bad days, but also for me. She said that sugar fixed everything.
Maybe it’s stupid, thinking that coffee and a brownie can fix what I broke, but I don’t know what else to do.
