SAINT, SINNER, AND THE GIRL IN BETWEEN

Chapter 10: Keep Dreaming

CALLA

That evening at home, the environment feels worse than school ever did. The TV is already on for movie night. My dad sits on one end of the couch, his laptop open, his fingers moving across the keyboard like his life depends on it. He barely looks up when mom places snacks before him.

I sink into the other end, tucking my legs under me. We used to do this all the time and it used to mean something. Now it just feels like we are all pretending. My mom tries. She laughs at the right moments and glances at us like she is hoping we will join in. I try to keep up but my dad doesn’t.

After a while, I give up. I open i********: on my phone and the feed is blowing up with posts from the party. Everyone is out there having fun while I’m stuck here being miserable. In one photo, Miles is shirtless and someone tagged him. I scroll through the comments.

“God, he is so hot.”

“Is that Ares? Save some of the god for the rest of us, Brina!”

Right on cue, Brina’s comment sits at the top, accompanied by an image of his head buried in her chest. “Keep scrolling. I don’t share.”

I stare at the screen longer than I should, sadness settling in my stomach. He was never mine. He never will be. Maybe it’s time I made peace with that.

Ping! A message pops up at the top. It’s an unknown number but I already know who it is.

“Enjoying the party, Pierce? Or wishing you were stuck tutoring me instead?”

My stomach flips. I stare at the message, my pulse picking up pace for no reason I understand. I could ignore it. I should ignore it, but I don’t.

“I didn’t go.” I text after letting a few minutes pass deliberately.

The reply comes faster than I expect. “That’s surprising.” Another one follows. “I thought the Blackridge terrific trio never split up.”

I frown as I text back, faster than before. “The what?”

“You, Bennett, Holt. Your better halves.”

I sigh. I don’t know why him referring to us like that irritates me.

“What do you want, Monroe?”

Three dots float on the screen then the message lands.

“Just checking on my favorite tutor and wish her goodnight.”

Before I can process that, another follows.

“And tell you I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

I stare at the words, and all I’m thinking is... I shouldn’t like that, I shouldn’t feel anything at all. Yet I do. I inhale slowly, forcing myself to focus. I start typing rapidly and notice the slight tremor in my fingers.

“I wish I could say the same.” I hit send and exhale.

The response comes almost immediately.

“One of these days, you will stop lying to yourself.”

Heat rushes to my face. It takes me a moment to gather myself and type, “Keep dreaming.” I hesitate, then type, “Don’t text back. I won’t respond.”

The dots appear and disappear several times then nothing. I wait a second longer than I should. A small, stupid smile tugs at my lips. I think I won.

“Calla.”

I blink, looking up again. My mom sighs softly, rubbing her temple. “This doesn’t count as family time if we are all somewhere else.”

I nod, but I don’t put it down. Her eyes flick to my dad who doesn’t even look up. I glance between them, guilt stirring in my chest but I know I have to say it.

“Mom, this doesn’t work anymore. Maybe we should just do our own things tonight,” I say instead, my voice coming out harsher than I mean it to.

The words hang there. My mom’s face tightens, hurt flickering across it before she smooths it over and tries to smile. This is what she does— smiling through hard times and it's just annoying at this point.

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” She doesn’t stop me, dad doesn’t even notice.

Upstairs, I push my door open, stepping inside. Before I hit the light switch, my phone pings. My heart betrays me again when I glance at it. Of course it's him again.

“Try not to miss me too much before tomorrow, Pierce.”

“Oh my God!” A disbelieving breath escapes me before I can stop it.

I shake my head, staring at the screen, the corner of my mouth lifting despite everything. He is impossible, and somehow I don’t hate it.

That realization hits just as fast as the smile fades. I lock my phone and toss it onto my bed, flopping down after it. I don’t recall the exact second Ryder Monroe stopped feeling like danger and started feeling like a beacon. All I know is, tomorrow will be harder than I imagined.