Page 158 of Holy Hearts
“Wait,” I rush out. “How did you know?”
“Know what?” Chase asks, a tinge of amusement in his voice. I realize I’m probably making zero sense.
“That Juliet was the one for you.”
He pauses for a beat, and I can hear the faint creak of floorboards. “Because even when I pushed her away, she stayed,” he says quietly. “She showed up. Over and over.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me.
“That’s good to know.”
“Come up,” Chase urges. “It’ll make Juliet’s week to host you. No one ever comes to visit us,” he adds petulantly. Classic little brother. “Do it for her,” he teases.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I’ll send you my flight details.”
We hang up, and I sit there for a long moment, staring at the darkened screen of my phone.
The weight in my chest feels a little heavier now, like something fragile I’ve been balancing for weeks is starting to crack.
“Because even when I pushed her away, she stayed.”
Chase’s words echo louder than I expected, lingering long after the call ends.
But with Julian and Sophie… I left. And they let me.
That thought sinks its claws in deep, twisting.
Maybe that’s what’s been gnawing at me this whole time. The idea that if I stepped back far enough, they wouldn’t follow.
Because maybe I’m not as essential to them as they are to me.
The low, persistent noise of downtown presses down on my shoulders, and for the first time in years, the solitude feels suffocating instead of comforting. I glance around the groups of people out and about—the couples and friends, the college students, the people scurrying to their night shifts.
I rub the back of my neck, exhaling sharply.
Maybe I do need to get away.
A few minutes later, I’m back in my apartment, setting Willy’s food down in his porcelain bowl. I sit down on the couch, and it doesn’t take long to find a flight up to San Francisco.
Before I can second-guess myself, I book it.
For the first time in weeks, I feel like I’m moving toward something instead of running away.
But even as I close my laptop and lean back against the couch, I can’t shake the image of Sophie’s eyes lingering on me as I left the shop last night—or the way Julian didn’t try to stop me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
THE BOTTOM
Julian
I tell myself I’m fine.
I tell myself I’ll get over it, just like I did when we were eighteen.
I remind myself of all the reasons Kai needed space, and why he probably isn’t ready to come back—not to me, not to us.
But fuck, it’s been over a month since I last saw him.
