Page 62 of Blurred Lines

I balance the basket carefully. My stomach twists into a knot as I open the letter.

I've gone back to NYC. I think it's best if we ended this right here and now. I've left a key to the mansion. I know you guys can get to the bottom of my dad's letter. If you do, keep whatever he left behind. I'm sorry I couldn't stay—E.

The crumpled note shakes in my hand, as tremors of betrayal rip through me.

Gone? Just like that? A bitter laugh escapes my lips, echoing harshly in the morning stillness. We weren't perfect, we weren't even fully there yet, but we were building something. Or so I'd thought. I'm sure Finn and Silas felt the same way.

Plus, what the hell is this? I shake the note in my hand, resisting the dire urge to crumple it. Is she in high school? Did she really think leaving a note would be the way to go, that we'd just sit back and accept it?

"Apparently, we were fools," I mutter to myself. I've dealt with a lot in my life. I've had heartbreak before. But this feels doubly sharp because I allowed myself to think it would be different. I did that, she didn't. It's all my fault.

An icy rage rises within me, battling the gut-wrenching feeling of abandonment. She didn't even try to explain, just this—a cold slap in the face masquerading as a breakup note. My hands clench into fists, biting into my skin.

All this while later, and I was right. She proved my point. She ran. She ran like I'd known she would.

What a time to be right about something, I tell myself, unable to keep the urge for self-deprecation at bay.

I look down at the basket, now nothing more than a dead weight full of food I'll have to carry back. The scent of bacon and eggs turns my stomach. "Emily!" I shout, not caring if my voice cracks, or if anyone else can hear me. All I know is this burning vacuum inside, this need to tear into something, someone, anything to ease the pain of her sudden, silent departure.

The rumble of Finn's car breaks the quiet that follows. My head snaps up, hope and anger vying for control within me. Maybe she left something with him, a message, an explanation?

But as he gets closer, the disarming smile on his lips tells me he has no idea either. "Caeleb, what—" Before he can finish speaking, I pass the note to him. I see the answering devastation in his eyes, the crumpled shoulders, the way his gaze falls. My knees buckle, and I sink onto the porch steps, burying my face in my hands.

"Damn it," I growl, the words ragged through clenched teeth. I'm angry at her, at myself, at the whole damned world for turning everything upside down.

Silas appears moments later. Finn hands him the note. The two of them sit down beside me, grim creases between their brows. I search their faces for understanding, but it's obviously useless because they're as clueless as I am.

"Gone?" Finn manages to choke out, a single syllable choked with disbelief.

A harsh laugh leaves me. "I don't know why I'm so disappointed, honestly," I murmur, steepling my fingers in front of me. "She never said she expected this to be a long-term thing."

I see Silas eye the basket and wince. Both of them understand how hard this hits, because all of us felt the same way. She managed to fool three grown men.

Finn begins to speak, his tone low. "Not in so many words, but?—"

"You have your proof," I snap, refusing to hear anything else. "What more do you need?"

27

CAELEB

Finn stops talking immediately, because he knows I'm right. There's no two ways around this. Emily was obviously inconvenienced by something, and she thought the best approach would be to leave without telling us. Barring the courtesy of a letter and a key to Harvey's mansion, of course.

I guess I should be honored that she at least thought of this much. Finally, I take the note from Silas and rip it into small pieces, taking immense pleasure in the sounds of the paper getting torn. The others don't stop me.

"So, what do we do next?" Finn asks, his tone heavy.

"I don't know," Silas replies curtly. "This wasn't on the memo."

I bark out a harsh laugh. "Tell me about it."

The stillness on Emily's porch is almost tangible, each of us lost in our own storm of thoughts. The early morning tranquility mocks our turmoil, the pleasant chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves in stark contrast to the chaos unfolding between us. I can't remember the last time we were all this quiet for so long. We're usually quick with a joke or a plan, but Emily's note has gutted that part of us, at least for now.

Finally, Silas breaks the silence, his voice razor-sharp, cutting through the stillness like a knife. "This is bullshit," he declares, standing up abruptly, his anger so overt I can feel it on my skin. He's always been the most straightforward among us, the fire to Finn's water and my earth. "We bent over backward for her, gave her everything. And this is how she repays us? By running away without a damn word?"

Finn, hopeful beyond any sane reason, tries to interject, but Silas is on a roll, his fury not to be quenched. "No, Finn. We need to face it. We worshipped her, let her have the free run of all three of us. We loved and honored her." He kicks at a loose pebble on the porch, sending it skittering across the wooden boards. "And for what? For her to leave like we meant nothing?"

I can't say I disagree with him. The sting of betrayal is fresh, a wound that refuses to be ignored. "He's right," I agree, trying to sound steady and failing. "We made immense sacrifices for her. We put her on a pedestal, and she just up and left. Without even an explanation of where we went wrong."

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