Ride back from college is dead quiet—too damn quiet. Alex don’t say shit, just drives, hands clamped on the wheel like it’s keeping him alive. Knuckles white, veins popping—I can’t stare long. Chest feels like it’s caving in, heavy and tight. Expelled. Word keeps hammering my skull, loud, ugly. Done—booted for good, and he didn’t even step inside to back me. Thought he’d be there, like he said, but he parked his ass out here instead. Wanna speak, but my throat’s locked. Truck rolls up to the bookstore, engine cuts off, silence choking me.
He’s out first, slams the door hard—too hard. I follow slow, legs shaky from that hearing. Inside’s dark—blinds down, lights off. Used to be home, now it’s cold, off. Alex beelines for the counter, keys clattering loud as he tosses ‘em. I hang by the door, watching. He’s pacing, short little steps, like he’s trying to shake something loose. Wanna ask why he bailed, why he left me solo, but my voice won’t come.
“Alex?” I try, soft, testing. He stops, turns, and his face—damn, it’s wrong. Eyes hard, mouth a tight slash, holding something in. Seen him pissed, but this ain’t that. Deeper.
“Can’t do this,” he says, low, rough. Yanks a hand through his hair, tugging hard. “Been trying—trying to believe you, Jamie. But it’s too damn much.”
Heart drops like a rock. “What’s that mean?” Step closer, fists balled. “I didn’t do it—you know me. Said we’d figure it out together.”
Shakes his head fast, like he’s fighting himself. “Took you in,” he says, voice rising. “Gave you a place. And now—” Cuts off, breath shaky, eyes darting—shelves, floor, anywhere but me. See it ripping him up, and it’s scaring the hell outta me.
“Now what?” I ask, voice cracking. “Think I’m lying? After everything? Alex, please—I’m telling the truth. Emails, money—ain’t me!”
Turns back, eyes hit me like a storm. “Wanna believe you,” he says, slow, words heavy as lead. “Kept telling myself you wouldn’t—cheat, steal, whatever they’re pinning on you. But it’s everywhere—cops, college, evidence. How do I just ignore that?”
“‘Cause it’s fake!” I shout, closing the gap. “Someone planted it—Riley, Casey’s sure it’s her. I didn’t do shit—why won’t you trust me?” Hands shake bad now, tears burning, but I don’t care. Can’t stop ‘em.
He flinches, my words hitting, but he don’t budge. “Riley?” he mutters, then shakes it off. “You’re pointing fingers, but what if—” Stops, swallows hard. “What if I missed it? What if I don’t know you?”
Cuts like a knife. Stare at him, breath stuck. “You think I’m guilty,” I whisper, truth sinking in cold. “Three years—pulled me outta nothing—and you think I’d screw you over?”
No answer at first, just looks at me. Then it shifts—eyes widen a bit, mouth softens, but it ain’t good. Fear. Not doubt, not anger—fear. Like he’s scared of me, or who I might be. Gut twists, nausea rising. He ain’t just unsure—he’s afraid I’m a stranger.
“Dunno what to think,” he says, voice breaking. “Been fighting it, Jamie—holding onto what I thought you were. But it’s too heavy. Town’s talking, college cut you loose, cops on your ass. I can’t—” Stops, scrubs his face with both hands, like he’s wiping me away.
“Can’t what?” I press, louder, closer. “Can’t trust me? Can’t stick by me? You’re all I got, Alex—nobody else!”
Hands drop, eyes meet mine—hollow, beat. “You need to go,” he says, so quiet I almost miss it. Empty, like he’s already checked out.
Freeze, words smacking me. “What?” I choke, chest locking up.
“Go,” he says again, clearer, still dead inside. “Can’t do this no more. Get out.”
Stare at him, brain blank. “Kicking me out?” Voice shakes, sounds small—hate it. “Alex, don’t—I didn’t—swear I didn’t—”
“Stop,” he snaps, cutting me off. Spins away, grips the counter, shoulders hunched. “Just stop. Can’t hear it. Grab your stuff and go.”
Tears spill now, hot and fast, don’t bother wiping ‘em. Can’t move, can’t breathe. “Where?” I ask, desperate. “Where do I go? You’re my home—been my home since—”
“Jamie, enough!” he yells, whipping back. Face red, eyes wet—fear and hurt busting out. “Can’t fix this—can’t fix you. Leave.”
Stumble back, legs like mush. He’s shouting, but it’s pain, not rage, spilling outta him. Wanna beg, drop to my knees, make him see—but his eyes kill it. Empty now, shut me out. Lost him. Guy who dragged me from the wreck, gave me a bed, a life—he’s gone. Wipe my face, hands trembling, nod slow, like I’m agreeing to something I don’t get.
“Okay,” I whisper, barely there. Turn, feet heavy, head upstairs. Room’s a haze—bed, sketches, clothes—shove what I can in my backpack. Hands move numb, automatic. Back downstairs, he’s at the counter, head down, still. Stop at the door, stare at him—my anchor, my everything. Don’t move, don’t speak. Hits me then, cold and sharp: he’s not mine no more.