~ Becca ~
My phone starts blowing up at 6:12 a.m.
Not buzzing. With constant messages.
Like it was on Full-on psycho meltdown mode.
I don’t even have to look to know who it is.
Stephen.
I lie there staring at the ceiling, jaw tight, heart annoyingly calm. That’s new. A few months ago I would’ve been shaking, already rehearsing apologies I didn’t owe him. Now I just feel… irritated. Like someone knocking too loud on a door they no longer have keys to.
The screen lights up again.
Stephen:
Where the f**k are you.
I don’t answer.
Another one.
Stephen:
Stop ignoring me.
Then three missed calls back-to-back.
Jesusfuck.
Jace shifts beside me, half-asleep. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Just noise.”
He opens one eye. Looks at my phone. Doesn’t ask. Doesn’t pry. That makes something
