Page 103 of Fragile

He hums, letting his fingertip move from my cheek until it’s dusting the skin underneath my left eye. “Right here,” he says, almost reverently. “This little cluster looks like a heart.”

I barely breathe as he continues.

“I remember looking at it when we were kids,” he says, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Your mom always said, ‘some people wear their hearts on their sleeves,’ but I always thought no…Quinn has hers on her cheek.”

My heart swells three sizes in my chest, my pulse quickens under the heat of his touch. There’s that invisible thread again, tugging at us, tightening and pulling us closer, binding us together in a way that feels undeniable. I try to say something, anything, but the words catch in my throat. All I can do is look at him, really look at him, as though seeing him for the first time, yet remembering him from a thousand moments before. Every shared memory, every laugh, every unspoken feeling I’ve had for him feels magnified, like we’ve been circling this moment forever.

His hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, fingers threading gently through my hair, making my skin prickle and igniting something deep inside.

I can almost taste the faint hint of mint on his breath, feel the way his heart pounds just as wildly as mine. It's like we're both standing on the edge of something, and in a way, maybe we are. I suppose I’ve been here my whole life waiting for him. And now he’s finally here too.

As his forehead rests against mine, for a moment, we’re caught in the stillness of it—our bodies, our breaths, our hearts in sync. His lips hover so close, and just when I think he might close the gap, his voice breaks the silence, a whisper against my lips.

“Why do you keep saving me?” he breathes, his voice strained with emotion. “I know I don’t deserve you.”

He doesn’t see what I see when I look at him. All he sees are the cracks, the flaws, the mistakes he thinks define him. But to me, those cracks are where his light shines through, the imperfections that make him real, that make him human. He’s been through so much, carrying burdens that would crush most people, and yet he’s still here, still fighting. How could he not see how incredible that is?

I want to tell him that he’s worth saving, that every part of him matters to me. But instead, all I can do is promise, “I will always save you. No matter how deep you go, I’ll be right there to pull you out.”

As I say the words, I mean them with every fiber of my being. I would dive into the darkest depths for him, face any challenge, because he’s worth it.

“Just don’t let me go, okay?” I say, my voice softer, almost pleading. I need him to hold on, to trust that I’ll be there for him, no matter what. Because as much as I’m trying to save him, he’s saving me too.

“I love you,” he whispers tenderly against my ear. “I need you, more than anything or anyone else.”

As much as I want to ask him how it went with his dad and the dean, as much as I want to know every detail, I need this—I need him too. I need to feel him, to reassure myself that he’s really here, that this is real. His good hand finds my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.

“I love you,” I say against his mouth as he presses another kiss to my lips. And nothing else matters but him.

Chapter forty-seven

Miles

Being here in thestadium, not feeling the buzz of my team around me, not having to go through the routine of pre-game practice and nutrition, has been one of the hardest things to accept today.

My team, my teammates, are all in the locker room, gearing up for the championship final against Idaho. I should be there with them. I should be on that field. But I’m also lucky to be here at all. After the meeting with the dean and my dad went sour, the follow-up was much calmer. Essentially, I’m allowed to stay in the school if I attend their version of group therapy every week, check in with my counselor, and have bi-monthly meetings with the dean himself. I also had to hand over Levi’s name and I heard he’s been expelled.

This morning, I attended my first counseling session. It’s not easy letting go of addiction, but it’s sure as hell easier than letting go of fear, inadequacy, and resentment. Those feel rooted in my mind, and I know even without therapy, the only way I’ll overcome them is when I talk to my dad again, which I haven’tdone since the day he stormed out of the office. It needs to happen, but I’m not ready to let him in yet.

“Hey.” Indie walks up to the empty seat to my left and passes me a large Sprite.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it from her.

She nods. “You feeling okay?”

“I’m not gonna lie, this sucks.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“But I know they’ll win today. The team is strong, and my guys won’t back down.”

“They’ll miss you out there, without a doubt, but you’re going to be fine. Especially with my girl looking out for you.” She nudges my shoulder.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky with her.”

“I feel the same a lot of the time. Those Dawsons are a different breed, I swear. But if you tell her I said that, I will personally make sure you regret it.” There's a warmth in her voice, though, a genuine affection that softens the playful threat. It’s clear she cares about Quinn just as much as I do, and that thought settles something inside me.

I chuckle, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “Your secret’s safe with me. I wouldn’t dare.”

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