No One Owns Me

Chapter 18 — The Empty Space

The next morning, the yard stays quiet. No engine rumbles. No familiar shadow leans against the doorframe. Ward doesn’t come back.

I tell myself it doesn’t matter. That I’m better off focusing on what matters. That Duncan was right. That there are bigger fires to put out: the Crown, Mum, Isabella, the register, Lorenzo, the lies we’re still untangling.

Anything but him.

Yet every time I hear a vehicle pass, my chest lurches. Every time someone walks past the room, I glance up. By midday, I’ve checked the door more times than I can count.

At lunch, I push food around my plate without tasting it. Isabella watches me for a long moment, then slides her chair closer.

“Not hungry?”

“Not really.”

“You’ve barely touched anything since yesterday.”

“I’ll eat later.”

She doesn’t argue. Just rests her shoulder lightly against mine. I unlock my phone, stare at the blank chat window, lock it again. Repeat.

Isabella says quietly, “He told you he’d still be around.”

I don’t look up. “I know.”

“And you miss him.”

“No.”

She huffs a soft laugh. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

I sigh, and finally let the truth sit there. “Maybe.”

“I miss him too,” she says. “I barely know him. But I see how you light up when he’s there. And how dim it’s been since he’s gone.”

That’s exactly it. For a little while, with Ward, I forgot the weight of everything. I wasn’t the heir, or the lost girl, or a target. I was just… me. Now he’s stepped back, and every worry feels twice as heavy.

Over the next few days, the quiet settles deep into my bones. I stop joining the others in the common room. I stop going out to the yard. I stop teasing, stop arguing, stop even speaking much at all.

Drake catches me lingering in the hallway one afternoon. “You’ve gone quiet on us.”

“Just tired.”

“You’ve been tired for three days.”

“I haven’t been sleeping.”

He studies me, sharp and steady. “What’s weighing on you?”

“Nothing.”

He doesn’t believe me. No one does. Duncan’s eyes follow me wherever I go, full of a guilt he won’t say out loud.

I spend most hours curled up on my bed, curtains drawn tight, phone never more than an arm’s reach away. Still nothing. I know he’s keeping his word—giving me space, respecting the line Duncan drew. But knowing why doesn’t make the empty space feel any less like abandonment.

I start wondering if I made it all up. If the understanding, the laughter, the quiet warmth between us—if I only imagined it. Maybe it was never as real for him. Maybe walking away was easy. That thought hurts worse than anything else.

One evening, a soft knock comes. I don’t answer.

“Casey?” Duncan’s voice.

“I’m resting.”

The door creaks open a little. “Can I come in?”

I don’t say no. He steps inside, pausing when he sees the dark room, the drawn curtains, me curled small under the duvet. He sits carefully on the edge of the bed.

“When did you last eat something proper?”

“I don’t know.”

“Casey…”

“I just want to be left alone.”

He doesn’t push. Just sits there, quiet and steady, until he says, “Is this about Ward?”

Hot tears prick my eyes instantly. I hate how easily he sees through me. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Okay. We don’t have to.”

After a long silence, my voice cracks. “He left.”

“He’s giving you space. Because I asked him to.”

“I know.”

“I know it feels like more than that,” he says gently. “When you’re already raw and hurting, someone stepping back can look exactly like walking away. But he hasn’t abandoned you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I spoke to him. Yesterday.”

I sit up fast. “You did?”

“He called. Twice.” Duncan gives a small, sad smile. “First thing he asked was whether you were eating. Second was whether you were sleeping. Third was whether you were angry.”

“He asked about me?”

“Only thing he cared about.”

I stare at my hands, and a tear slips onto the sheet.

Duncan squeezes my shoulder. “You’re allowed to miss him. You’re allowed to hurt. But don’t vanish into that hurt. Don’t stop being Casey just because someone isn’t standing right beside you.”

He leaves me then, closing the door softly. I sit in the dim light, turning his words over in my head. My phone buzzes.

I grab it so fast I nearly drop it.

One new message. Unknown number—but I’d know that typing anywhere.

Heard you’ve been hiding upstairs. Eat something. I’m not going anywhere.

I stare, breath catching. Before I can even process it, another pops up.

And don’t make me drive all the way back just to annoy you into eating. I will do it.

A real, shaky laugh bursts out of me. The first in days.

I type back: You wouldn’t dare.

Reply comes instantly: Try me.

I smile down at the screen. The room doesn’t feel quite so dark anymore. He’s not here, not right now—but he’s not gone either. And that’s enough, for today.

I can miss someone without losing myself. I can hurt and heal at the same time. And the space between us isn’t empty after all. It’s just waiting.