Chapter 30

Chapter 30
The air felt wrong after that.

Too still. Too heavy. Like the house itself was holding its breath.

Jason’s dad didn’t look angry when he asked Jason to talk to him alone. If anything, he looked tired. Resigned. Like this was another disappointment he was filing away instead of dealing with head-on.

“Give us a minute,” he said.

Jason glanced at me. Just for a second. His jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable.

“I’ll wait in the car,” I said quickly. I needed out of that house. I needed space. I needed to breathe.

No one argued.

The walk to the car felt longer than it should’ve. I slid into the passenger seat and shut the door, staring straight ahead. My hands were shaking, so I folded them together in my lap and focused on breathing normally.

In. Out.

I didn’t know how long I sat there before the driver’s door finally opened. Jason got in without looking at me, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb.

He didn’t say a word.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. I waited. For anything. A reassurance. An apology. Anger. Something.

Nothing came.

By the time we pulled up to the beach house, my chest felt tight.

I reached for the door handle. “Jason—”

“I’ll see you later,” he said quietly.

I froze.

“What?” I turned to him, confused. “You’re not coming in?”

He shook his head once, eyes still fixed straight ahead. “No.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach drop.

I stepped out of the car and closed the door slowly. He stayed where he was, hands on the steering wheel, engine still running.

“Jason,” I said, walking around to his side. He finally looked at me then, and whatever I saw in his expression made my throat close.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He swallowed. “You shouldn’t come back to Florida.”

The words hit hard and fast. “What?” I laughed weakly. “What are you talking about?”

“You should go to Penn State,” he continued, like he’d rehearsed it. “That’s what you were excited about. That’s your plan.”

“That’s not what I want,” I said immediately. “I told you—”

“You think you know what you want right now,” he interrupted. “But you don’t. Not really.”

I felt something sharp twist in my chest. “Don’t do this.”

“You’re going to resent me,” he said. “Maybe not right away. But eventually. You’ll look back and think about everything you gave up.”

“I wouldn’t,” I insisted. “I wouldn’t blame you for my choices.”

“Yes, you would,” he said quietly. “And you’d be right to.”

“That’s not fair,” I said, my voice breaking. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“This isn’t about fairness,” he snapped, finally turning to face me. “It’s about reality. We can’t even explain what we are without blowing everything up. What do you think happens when our parents find out?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

“You think they’ll understand?” he pressed. “You think this ends well?”

I hated that he sounded so sure.

“So what,” I said, my voice barely steady, “you’re just giving up?”

“I’m trying to protect you,” he said. “From me. From this.”

Tears burned behind my eyes. “That’s not your decision to make.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m making it anyway.” The words that followed felt unreal. “We can’t do this anymore.”

It felt like the ground disappeared beneath me. “You don’t mean that,” I whispered.

He looked at me for a long moment, and I saw it then — the fear, the guilt, the way he was already punishing himself.

“I do,” he said. “This ends now.”

He reached for the door handle on his side, then hesitated. “I’m sorry.” And then he drove away.

I stood there long after his car disappeared down the street, forcing myself to stay upright, forcing my breathing to stay even. I refused to cry out there. I wouldn’t let him see that.
When I finally went inside, the house was quiet. Too quiet. I moved through the hallway carefully, hoping everyone was out or asleep or anywhere but here. I almost made it to my room.

Almost.

“Blake!” Nicole’s voice cut through the silence.

I froze, my hand still wrapped around the doorknob.

She walked toward me, smiling like nothing was wrong. “Hey, did you still want to go shopping tomorrow like we talked about?”

I didn’t answer.

“Blake?” Her smile faltered. “Are you okay?”

I tried. I really did.

But the moment my grip slipped from the door, everything collapsed.

The sob tore out of me before I could stop it. My knees buckled and I pressed a hand to my mouth, but it didn’t help. The sound was ugly. Broken. The kind of cry that came from too deep to control.

Nicole rushed forward. “Blake—oh my God, hey—what happened?”

I couldn’t form words. I couldn’t breathe right. Everything spilled out at once — the hurt, the shock, the way my chest felt like it was caving in. “It—he—I—” Nothing made sense.

She wrapped her arms around me instinctively, murmuring something I couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in my ears. I clutched at her shirt, crying so hard my vision blurred.
For once, Nicole didn’t say the wrong thing.

She just held me while I fell apart.