The house was too quiet after the fight.
I stood in the kitchen long after everyone else had gone upstairs, pressing a bag of frozen peas to my bruised ribs and staring at nothing. The pain was a dull, steady throb now—manageable. What wasn’t manageable was the echo of Caleb’s words in the hallway, the way his forehead had nearly touched mine, the raw confession that still hung in the air like smoke.
“I never wanted you gone. I wanted you safe.”
I hated how much those words hurt. I hated how much I wanted to believe them.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Heavy. Familiar. I didn’t turn around. I already knew it was him.
Caleb stopped in the doorway, still wearing the same gray sweatpants from earlier, hair messy like he’d been dragging his hands through it. His eyes found the ice pack
