Page 28 of Before We Break Again
She was never afraid to explore, to let us touch her, to ask for more and push the boundaries.She liked the thrill of it, the way we made her feel.And here she is, still the same in some ways, even though the years have changed us all.
Her glare sharpens, but there’s a flicker of playfulness beneath it.“Don’t,” she warns, her voice a little too serious for the situation, though the corners of her mouth twitch, like she’s fighting a smile.
For a moment, it feels like we’re suspended between the past and present—caught in this tug-of-war between who we used to be and who we are now.The tension is both familiar and new, a bittersweet reminder of what we once had ...and what could’ve been.
“Come on,” I tease, leaning back in my chair, my smirk widening.“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.About us ...about everything we were.And what we could be as we grew up.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the way her blush deepens, the irritation on her face barely masking the warmth that lingers in her expression.“I’ve thought about a lot of things,” she admits, her voice softer now.“But that’s not the point.”
“No?”I challenge, hoping to ease the tension with a bit of humor, but the look she gives me stops me cold.
It’s not just frustration—it’s sadness, regret, something deeper than I was expecting.And I realize this conversation isn’t just about teasing, or memories of old times.It’s about the years we lost.The choices I made.
“It’s not,” she repeats, her tone firmer.“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.Not then, and not now.The moment you could’ve reached out, the moment you knew where I was… you should have.”Her gaze hardens, and for the first time in years, I see the hurt.And it’s more than I ever realized.
I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair, frustration and guilt swirling together.“I thought I was doing you a favor, Hals.I thought keeping my distance was what you needed.”
“Well, you were wrong,” she snaps, but her voice wavers, the emotion in it making it tremble.“You don’t get to make that choice for me.Ineeded you, Dustin.Where were you when I needed someone to take care of me?”
Her words hang in the air, and they hit harder than I expected.I hadn’t meant to hurt her—never did.But I did.And now I can’t take it back.
Silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we’ve never said.I want to respond, but the words get tangled up in my throat.
“I did try to take care of you,” I mumble, the words weak even as I say them.They’re not enough.
“Really?How?”she shoots back, crossing her arms, her eyes searching mine for answers I don’t know how to give.
“With all my ridiculous plans, my so-calledcockamamie schemes—as Gavin calls them,” I reply, a bit of defensiveness creeping into my voice.“Who paid for your full ride when your parents refused to cover your tuition?Who made sure you had everything you needed?How do you think you got to?—”
“You ...you were behind all those last-minute scholarships, grants, and internships that kept landing in my lap?”she interrupts, her eyes widen, and she cuts me off, realization dawning on her.
I shrug, trying to play it cool, but there’s a knot forming in my throat.“Someone had to make your dreams come true, baby.”
Her eyes soften, but the hurt doesn’t fully leave them.“I would’ve rather been with you than chasing those dreams.You’re more important than anything else.”
She looks down at the table, her shoulders slumping slightly, the fight draining out of her.“I could’ve made my own decisions.You should’ve let me.”
I swallow hard, forcing the words out.“I’m sorry,” I whisper, knowing it’s not enough.
“I get it, you know,” she says quietly, her voice full of sadness.“We didn’t choose this.They made us ...they separated us.I’m upset at them, but not at you.”
Her words cut deeper than anything else could.She’s letting me off the hook, and somehow, that makes it worse.“You’re just giving me pity because you see how messed up I am,” I say, the bitterness slipping through as I meet her gaze.“You’re looking at me like I’m some poor guy who’s lost everything.”
Her brow furrows, and she shakes her head softly, her eyes full of emotion.“It’s not pity, Dusty.My heart breaks for you.I see what’s happened to you, to us.But don’t you get it?I never needed you to be perfect.I just wanted you.Just you, as you were.I didn’t care about the money or the scholarships—I wanted you.I needed you.”
Her words hit me harder than anything else.The truth in them digs deep, and I can’t hold her gaze anymore.I look away, jaw clenched, the frustration boiling up inside.“I didn’t know how to let you in,” I admit, my voice rough, raw.“I didn’t know how to reach out back then.I’m trying to stay sane.Trying to stay clean.It’s too fucking hard.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” she says, her voice soft but steady.“Where’s your support system?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.What support system?There isn’t one.
She shakes her head like she’s already figured it out.“San and I should’ve been there for you.You’ve got to stop thinking you’re beyond saving.You’re not broken, Dustin.You’re just ...lost.And I’m here.I’ve always been here, even when we were apart.”
Her hand moves across the table and rests on mine.Her touch is light, comforting, and for just a moment, the storm inside my head calms.But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a mess—a mess she doesn’t deserve to deal with.
“I’m trying,” I mutter.“I’m trying, but it never feels like enough.”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”Her fingers curl around mine, reassuring me in a way I haven’t felt in years.“This time, we’ll figure it out together.”
