Page 10 of Before We Break Again
It felt strange.Unfamiliar.Like the world had shifted beneath my feet, just enough to make me question everything.For so long, I’d been the kid with dead parents, the one people whispered about.But in her eyes, I wasn’t just a tragedy.She wasn’t offering me pity—she was offering me something real.A place.A connection.
And then she was gone, disappearing into her house, leaving me standing there on the porch, staring after her.The quiet rushed back in, but it was different now.It wasn’t the crushing silence that had weighed me down since the accident.It was gentler, like the space between breaths.
My heart still ached, the grief still there, gnawing at me.But something had shifted.There was a small flicker inside me, something I hadn’t felt in what felt like forever.It didn’t erase the pain, didn’t push it away completely, but it was there—like a tiny flame in the darkest part of my mind, reminding me that maybe I wasn’t as lost as I thought.
Hope.
It was fragile, barely there, but it was enough.Enough to make me think that maybe, just maybe, Blissful Meadows wasn’t the end of my world after all.Perhaps, it was the beginning of something I never saw coming.
ChapterFive
Halsey
I forcemyself to step forward, but it feels like my legs aren’t even connected to my body.
This is the first time I’ve laid eyes on Dustin since Mom dragged me out of Blissful Meadows all those years ago without even letting me pack my things.Dad stayed behind to “put everything in order.”It was important to get me out of town quickly—so people wouldn’t talk.
About me.
About us.
About our love.
To keep me from being ‘tarnished’ by the love that shouldn’t have existed but did.
Of course I’ve seen Dustin everywhere since he started his music career—on TV, headlining concerts, splashed across magazine covers, leading music festivals.But this ...now we’re in the same room, breathing the same air.
All six foot, two inches of him is lean yet muscular; a man who probably spends as much time in the gym as he does on stage.His hazelnut brown hair falls in loose, tousled waves just below his shoulders.It’s longer than I remember, but it suits him.He’s not the boy from Blissful Meadows anymore.The man standing before me now is every inch the rock star, but still ...somehow ...he’s still him.
And this man?He’s a lot to take in.
His face is sharper now—high cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and a straight nose that gives him a rugged, striking handsomeness.But it’s his eyes that catch me.They always did.That piercing green, deep and almost hypnotic, framed by dark lashes.The intensity in them pulls me in, even when I don’t want to be pulled.They’re darker now, holding a vulnerability I don’t remember, mixed with something else I can’t quite place.
I swallow hard, trying to keep myself together as I take him in.A few days’ worth of stubble covers his jaw and upper lip, giving him that rough, unpolished edge that only adds to his appeal.His lips—God, I’d forgotten those lips—are full, curved just enough to hint at a smile, but there’s no warmth behind it.Not today.
Tattoos snake up his arms, intricate designs winding along his biceps and forearms, peeking out from beneath the sleeves of his black t-shirt.I catch glimpses of skulls entwined with roses and musical notes that seem to pulse with the rhythm of his veins.
He’s dressed in simple black.His shirt clinging to his chest and shoulders, outlining every muscular line beneath.Faded jeans sit low on his hips, worn at the knees, and his heavy boots thud softly against the floor as he shifts his weight, the chain on his belt catching the light, adding to his effortless, rebellious rock star vibe.
All I can do is look at him—this version of Dustin—older, harder, more real than the memories I’ve clung to.Roni nudges me playfully, completely oblivious to the tension radiating between us.“See?I told you this was out of your pay grade,” she teases, grinning.“I can take him off your hands.”
Dustin’s jaw tightens, and something dark flickers in his eyes.He doesn’t like what she just said—in fact, he wants her gone.The realization hits me hard: I can still read him, even though I barely recognize this man in front of me.I might not know this version of Dustin, but the storm in his gaze is unmistakable.He’s barely holding it together.
His entire posture shifts, rigid with tension.“Is there a place we can speak privately, Dr.Lahey?”His voice is clipped, cold, edged with a quiet anger that makes the air between us feel electric.It’s not just irritation—it’s something deeper, something intense and unresolved.
I want to tell him that the name is Halsey, not Dr.Lahey.He used to call me that.Hals, when we were close enough to share everything—secrets, promises, dreams we were naïve enough to think would last forever.Back when I believed that we could stay together, that what we had was unbreakable.
But now?It’s obvious I’m not that person to him anymore.The girl he used to know is gone, buried under years of silence, distance, and all the things we never said.
Whatever brought him here, it’s not about us or the love we once shared.That love feels like a ghost now, lingering in the spaces between us, but it’s not enough to pull us back to what we were.
No, he didn’t come here for me.Not for the pieces of our past.
But what could he possibly want now?
I glance down at his arms, searching for a reason.His wrist?Tendonitis?Maybe something with his shoulder or forearm—something a guitarist would struggle with after years on stage.But as I look back up at him, I know he’s not physically hurting.
There’s more.The way he’s looking at me—like the old Dustin, the one who made me feel like I was the only person in the world, is still in there, buried beneath the man who stands before me now.He’s holding something back, something big.And I don’t know if I even want to know why he came.It might be best if I show him the door and wave him goodbye.
