Chapter 44 :Familiar Emptiness
STEPHEN’S POV
The hallway felt colder than it should have. I shoved my hands into my hoodie pocket and walked without really seeing where I was going. My body still hummed from what had happened in Tory’s room, but the rush was already fading, leaving behind that familiar emptiness.
It never lasted.
The distraction, the noise, the heat and none of it ever lasted.
By the time I pushed through the dorm exit and stepped into the night air, my chest already felt tight again. The campus lights flickered softly against the pavement. A couple walked past me, laughing about something small and insignificant. I envied them for a second.
To feel something simple.
I dragged a hand through my hair and exhaled sharply.
Why did everything feel so complicated?
My phone buzzed in my pocket. My heart jumped before I could stop it.
For half a second, I thought it might be her but it wasn’t.
Just a stupid team group chat blowing up about tomorrow’s practice.
I stared at the screen anyway. My thumb hovered.
I told myself not to do it, that I had already humiliated myself enough over the past few months and she made her choice. I told myself I deserved better.
But weakness doesn’t care about pride.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I scrolled to her name.
Ella.
My chest physically hurt just looking at it.
I hit the call button. It rang once, twice and third times.
Each ring felt like a countdown to regret. “Stephen?”
Her voice was soft, familiar and slightly guarded. My throat tightened immediately. I hadn’t prepared for how that would feel.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound normal. Casual. Like I hadn’t just fallen apart twenty minutes ago in someone else’s bed. “Hey.”
There was a pause. “It’s late,” she said carefully.
“I know.”
Another silence stretched between us. It wasn’t comfortable. It was loaded. Heavy with everything we never finished saying.
“I didn’t think you would ever call me again,” she admitted.
“I didn’t think I would either.”
I leaned against the brick wall outside the dorm, staring up at the dark sky. My pulse thudded in my ears.
Just say it before you lose your nerve.
“I’ve been thinking,” I started, then stopped because that sounded stupid. Of course I’d been thinking. That was the problem.
“About?” she asked quietly.
“About us.”
There it was. The word hung between us like something fragile.
She exhaled on the other end. I could picture her doing it—sitting on her bed, probably twisting her hair around her finger the way she did when she was anxious.
“You said there wasn’t an us anymore,” she reminded me.
My jaw clenched. “Yeah. I know what I said.”
“You were pretty clear.”
“I was angry, okay?”
“And now?”
Now.. I was desperate.
Now I was tired of pretending I didn’t care and I was exhausted from trying to replace her with noise and bodies and temporary highs.
“Now I don’t care,” I blurted.
The words came out rushed and reckless.
“Don’t care about what?” she asked.
“I don’t care what happened,” I said. “I don’t care if you…..” My voice faltered for half a second, but I forced myself through it. “I don’t care if you slept with Hayden.”
There was silence, thick and shocked silence.
“You said that was unforgivable,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“You said you could never look at me the same.”
I swallowed hard. “I was hurt.”
“And you think I wasn’t?” Her voice cracked slightly now.
That hit me hard. I pushed off the wall and started pacing. “Ella, just… listen to me.”
“I am.”
“I miss you,” I admitted. The words felt like glass in my throat. “I miss you, okay? I miss everything. I miss how you laugh at dumb stuff. I miss how you steal my hoodies. I miss how you used to sit in the stands even when practice bored you out of your mind.” My chest tightened. “I miss you choosing me.”
She didn’t say anything, so I kept going.
“I don’t care if you fucked Hayden,” I said again, quieter this time. The word tasted bitter. “I don’t. It was a mistake. We were both messed up. I get that now.”
A long pause. “Do you?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
Another silence, then “Or are you just lonely tonight?”
That one landed and my pacing slowed.
“I’m not lonely,” I said automatically.
But the second the words left my mouth, I knew they weren’t true. She must have heard it too.
“Stephen,” she said gently, and that gentleness almost broke me. “You don’t get to call me months later and say you don’t care anymore like it’s that simple.”
“It is that simple,” I insisted, even though my voice was starting to shake. “Come back. We can fix it.”
“You don’t even trust me.”
“I will.”
“You don’t even trust yourself.”
The truth of that punched the air out of my lungs. I ran a hand over my face. “I’m trying.”
“I know you are.”
“Then come back,” I whispered.
She was quiet for so long I thought the call had dropped.
Then she said the one thing I wasn’t ready to hear. “I can’t.”
My stomach dropped. “Why?”
“Because you’re not calling me because you’ve healed from the trauma,” she said. “You’re calling me because you’re hurting.”
“That’s not…..”
“It is.”
My chest tightened so hard it felt like something inside me was cracking.
“I waited for you,” she continued. “I waited for you to calm down. To talk to me and to fight for me but you shut me out.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “And now?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
“And now I’m trying to move on.” The words echoed in my skull.
“With someone else?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“That’s not your business anymore.”
Something inside me snapped. My hand slammed into the metal railing beside me without thinking.
The loud clang echoed through the night. "Stephen?” she said sharply.
I hit it again and again. The sound rang in my ears, mixing with the pounding of my heart.
“Stop it!” she said. “What are you doing?”
I didn’t even know. I was angry, feeling regret and I was panicking. All of it crashing over me at once.
“I can fix this!” I shouted, not even sure if I was yelling at her or at myself.
There was a crashing sound as my phone slipped from my grip and hit the concrete.
The screen cracked instantly.
For a second, everything went silent except my ragged breathing.
“Stephen?” Her voice came faintly through the fractured speaker. “Stephen, talk to me.”
I sank down onto the pavement, back against the wall. My hands were shaking.