Chapter 32

Chapter 32
Blake's POV

My room still looked like I’d never left.

The same pale walls. The same dresser my dad insisted we keep because “solid wood is an investment.” The same faint crease in the carpet where I used to toss my dance bag after practice. Even the window—wide enough to let in the orange glow of the streetlights—felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for the version of me that used to sit here and plan a life that didn’t exist anymore.

I set my suitcase down and stood there for a second, letting the quiet settle.

Boston sounded different than Pennsylvania. It always had. Penn State nights had been full of distant laughter and dorm doors slamming and campus police sirens that became background noise after a while. Boston was steadier. Older. Like the city was too busy being itself to care whether I was back.

I ran my fingers along the edge of my desk, half-expecting to find my old notebooks. A few were still there, tucked into the bottom drawer. I didn’t pull them out. I didn’t need to. I could already remember the handwriting—the spirals of my name, the lists of goals, the parts of my life I used to believe I could control if I wrote them down enough times.
My phone buzzed with a notification from the group chat. Someone had sent a meme—Ashley, probably—and I stared at it without really seeing it.

The group chat had been the one thing that kept the years from swallowing us completely. Even when we didn’t call. Even when the months went by too fast. Even when the “miss you” texts turned into reaction emojis and quick check-ins.

Still, standing in my childhood room, it hit me how much time had passed.

Four years.

Four years since Florida. Since that driveway. Since Jason looking at me like he didn’t recognize me anymore, like he had to make himself hard enough to walk away.
My chest tightened.

I could still hear his voice sometimes when it was quiet. Still see his hands on the steering wheel. Still feel the way he drove like he was trying to outrun both of us.
I swallowed and opened the group chat.

Blake: I’m back in Boston 😊
Blake: Just landed. I’m home.
Blake: Are you guys around tonight?

The replies came instantly.

Ashley: EXCUSE ME????
Ashley: YOU’RE HERE???
Ashley: WHERE ARE YOU I’M COMING RIGHT NOW
Nicole: omg 😭😭😭
Nicole: come to the bakery. we close at 10
Nicole: ash is already here. come please.

I smiled despite myself. It felt good, like a door opening somewhere inside me.

My dad knocked lightly on the frame of my door, peeking in. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, and it was the first honest yes I’d given all day. “I’m going to meet the girls.”

He grinned like he’d been waiting for that. “Good. Go. Be a kid for at least one night before you go back to being Doctor Blake.” I rolled my eyes at him, but my throat tightened.

I grabbed my jacket and left before I could overthink it.

Nicole’s bakery sat on a corner I used to pass without noticing. Now it was impossible to miss. Warm light spilled out of the windows. The sign above the door had her name on it in elegant lettering, and through the glass I could see people at tables, laughing, sipping coffee, holding boxes tied with string. The place looked lived-in. Loved.

I paused outside for a second, suddenly nervous. Not the kind of nervous I used to get before competitions. This was deeper. Like I was about to step into a version of life that kept moving without me.

I pushed the door open. The bell chimed overhead.

Ashley was seated at a table near the front, legs crossed, posture dramatic as ever. She looked up like she’d sensed me before she saw me, and then her face broke. “Blake!”

She was out of her seat in a second, rushing toward me. We collided in a hug so tight it knocked the air out of my lungs. “Oh my God,” she said into my hair. “You’re really here.”

“I’m here,” I managed, laughing even though my eyes stung.

She pulled back, holding my shoulders and scanning my face like she was checking for damage. “You look grown,” she said, like it was an accusation.

“I am grown,” I said, and she scoffed.

Nicole appeared behind the counter, flour on her apron, hair pulled into a messy bun. Her eyes widened when she saw me. For a second she just stared, like her brain needed time to catch up. Then she came around the counter fast, arms open.

“Stop,” she said, voice cracking. “Stop it right now.”

“Hi,” I whispered. Nicole hugged me hard. Not cautious. Not careful. Like we’d never spent a decade trying to destroy each other.

When she pulled back, she looked different. Not the same sharp-edged girl from high school. Softer. Tired in a way that came from responsibility instead of drama. But she was still Nicole. Still beautiful. Still impossibly present.

“You came,” she said, like she couldn’t believe it.

“I told you I would,” I said, and even I didn’t know if that was true.

Nicole glanced toward the back. “Chase!” she called. “I need you up front.”

A second later Chase appeared from behind the kitchen door, sleeves rolled up, wiping his hands on a towel. He stopped when he saw me.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I replied.

His eyes lingered a second too long before he looked away, something thoughtful passing over his face. “I’ve got the counter,” he told Nicole. “Go sit.”

Nicole didn’t argue. She slid into the booth across from me, Ashley settling beside her like it was muscle memory.

For a while, it was easy. We talked about small things—traffic, the bakery, how long it had taken Ashley to parallel park earlier. Nicole teased Chase about burning a tray of croissants last week. Ashley told a dramatic story about a client at work. I watched them, smiling, and felt something twist in my chest.

Life hadn’t waited for me.

“Charlie’s asleep upstairs,” Nicole said at one point, catching my glance toward the staircase. “You can meet him tomorrow.”

I nodded, suddenly nervous. “I can’t believe he’s four.”

Nicole smiled softly. “Neither can I.”

The conversation lulled, the noise of the bakery filling the space.

Then Ashley’s voice dropped.

“So,” she said carefully, “when did you find out?”

I blinked. “Find out what?”

Nicole didn’t pretend. “About the wedding.” My stomach sank.

Of course they knew. Of course they’d heard. This was Boston. This was them. They stayed. They witnessed life unfolding in real time while I watched from a distance.

“I found out yesterday,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “My stepmom told me. Jason’s engaged. Cool.”

Ashley’s eyebrows lifted. “Cool?”

I shrugged, forcing a laugh. “I’m fine.”

Nicole’s mouth tightened. “You’re not fine.”

I opened my mouth to deny it again, but Ashley’s eyes were already on mine, sharp and gentle at the same time. “Don’t do that,” she said. “Not with us.”

My throat tightened, irritation sparking before the sadness could. “It’s just unfair,” I said, and the words surprised me with how raw they sounded. “It’s unfair that he can look at someone and decide, yeah, I’ll give her my whole life. But when it was me, he couldn’t even give me a straight answer about the future.”

Neither of them spoke. They just listened.

“He made me feel like I was asking for too much,” I continued, voice shaking now. “Like wanting clarity was selfish. Like wanting to know where I stood was a mistake.” Nicole’s eyes softened. Ashley reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

“We remember what happened,” Ashley said gently.

And suddenly I wasn’t in the bakery anymore.

I was 17 again, standing in a Florida driveway with my chest splitting open, watching Jason drive away like he had already made peace with leaving me behind.
I cried for a month after that.

Not quietly. Not the kind of crying you hide behind closed doors and pretend doesn’t exist. I cried until my head hurt, until my eyes burned, until waking up every morning felt like punishment. Jason blocked me everywhere—my number, my socials, even my email—like I was something he needed to erase in order to move on.

I stopped going out. Stopped dancing. Stopped answering messages.

I fell into a depression so deep it scared me.

And somehow Nicole was the one who showed up. Not loudly. Not dramatically. She didn’t try to fix anything. She just sat with me. Brought me food I barely touched. Let me cry without telling me to be strong. She listened when I finally talked about how unfair it felt, how small Jason had made me feel for wanting answers. That was when everything between us shifted. The girl I spent years hating became the one who understood me the most in that moment. We didn’t erase the past. We didn’t pretend it never happened. We just stopped fighting.

That was how we got close.

Later came Penn State. Distance. New walls. New routines. Eventually, I met someone who didn’t know my history and didn’t need to. Derek didn’t save me—no one does—but he reminded me how to breathe again. How to laugh without guilt. How to exist without constantly looking over my shoulder for ghosts. We didn’t end badly. We just ended. Two people choosing ambition over attachment.

Jason had already taught me what heartbreak felt like.

“Blake?” Ashley’s voice pulled me back.

I blinked, realizing tears had gathered in my eyes. I wiped them away quickly. “Sorry.”

Nicole shook her head. “Don’t apologize.”

The mood shifted after that. Softer. Lighter. We talked about Ashley’s job. About Nicole’s night classes. About how busy the bakery had been lately. I congratulated Nicole again, meaning it more each time I looked around. Chase kept glancing at me from behind the counter, like he wanted to say something and couldn’t find the right moment.

Eventually, the bakery emptied. Chairs were stacked. Lights dimmed.

We hugged goodbye on the sidewalk, promising brunch tomorrow, promising not to disappear again. I walked home alone, the cold air biting at my cheeks. Halfway down the street, my phone buzzed. A single notification.

Jason: Hi

I stopped walking.

The city kept moving around me, unaware that everything had just shifted.