Chapter 24: The Choice
The black sedan’s taillights bled into the dusk, leaving Oak Street silent but heavy—Kyle’s letter crumpled in Jake’s hand, his words—“I should leave”—hanging between us. May’s air was thick, jasmine sweet but sour with tension, and I gripped his jacket, heart pounding, refusing to let him slip away. “You don’t run,” I said, voice sharp, pulling him back from the porch’s edge. “Not from me, not from this—Rico’s gone, team’s yours, and Kyle’s just a letter. We’ve fought too hard.” He turned, eyes wet, raw—shadows deeper than the bruises fading on his face. “You don’t get it, Mia,” he said, rough, stepping free, letter fluttering to the steps. “Kyle’s out in six—back here, drunk, breaking s**t. I can’t drag you through that again—cops, chaos, me screwing up. You deserve better.” “Stop,” I
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