Page 32 of The Words of Us

I press my palms against the cool porcelain, grounding myself, forcing the panic back down. My phone buzzes on the sink beside me, and my stomach drops. I don’t want to look, but I know I have to. I can’t keep running from this. Not anymore. I snatch it up, my fingers fumbling as I unlock the screen.

Another message. Another reminder that my past isn’t finished with me.

“Sasha, this isn’t going away. You need to face it.”

The knot in my chest tightens, and I feel like I’m going to break apart right here. I want to scream, to throw my phone against the wall and watch it shatter. But I can’t. Because that won’t change anything. It won’t make this go away. I know that now.

I sink down onto the edge of the tub, my back against the cool tile, and I let myself feel it—all the anger, fear, and exhaustion of carrying this weight alone. I think of Evie and how she’s starting to slip through my fingers, how every day I pull away from her just a little bit more because I’m too scared to tell her the truth. The truth that I’m not as put together as she thinks, that I’m haunted by things I haven’t told her, and I don’t know how to let her in.

I look at the message again, the words blurring as tears sting at the corners of my eyes. I’m tired of being scared. Tired of letting this shadow hang over me, dictating how I live, how I love. I can’t keep letting my past define my future. I can’t keep letting it steal away the things I care about most.

My fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitant at first, but then I feel a surge of something—anger, defiance, maybe even a shred of hope. I start typing, each word coming faster, more sure, like I’m clawing my way out of a pit that’s been holding me down for too long.

“Leave me alone. That person doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t want this. I’m done.”

I hit send before I can second guess myself, the message shooting off into the ether. It’s not a solution, I know that. But it’s a step. It’s me fighting back, refusing to let the past keep pulling me under. I sit there staring at my phone, waiting for aresponse that doesn’t come, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel something like control.

It’s small, a flicker of strength, but it’s mine. I push myself up, staring at my reflection one last time, and this time, I see someone fighting. I see someone who wants to be better, who wants to let Evie in, and who isn’t going to let fear keep running the show.

I turn off the bathroom light, leaving the message—and the person I used to be—behind in the dark. And as I step outside the bathroom, the weight in my chest eases just a little, like I’m finally starting to take my life back, one small victory at a time.

The kitchen at Bourbon Wings is stifling tonight, the heat from the fryers mixing with the constant clatter of dishes and the sharp smell of hot sauce and grease. But for once, I don’t mind the chaos. I’m throwing myself into it, letting the rhythm of the shift pull me in and drown out the noise that’s been clouding my head for days. The music is loud, the tables are packed, and the rush of orders keeps my hands busy and my mind too occupied to wander.

I feel lighter since sending that message yesterday. Stronger. No more messages have come through, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe I’ve done enough to put all of it behind me. Gareth can’t touch me now, not here, not in this life I’ve built for myself. I keep reminding myself of that every time a flicker of doubt tries to creep back in.

Evie’s meeting me after my shift, and just the thought of seeing her makes the long hours go by faster. I picture her smile and the way her eyes light up when she sees me, and it makes everything feel brighter. Better. I’m looking forward to slidinginto that easy comfort of her presence, to holding her close and letting the day fade away.

The restaurant is winding down, the once rowdy crowd thinning out to just a few stragglers nursing the last of their drinks. I wipe down the last table, exhaustion settling into my bones. I grab my stuff from the back, clock out, and push through the swinging doors into the night, the cool air hitting me like a balm.

I’m reaching for my phone to text Evie when I see him leaning against the wall just outside the entrance, his face half-hidden in the shadows. My heart stops. I know that silhouette, the slouch of his shoulders, the way he’s staring at me like he’s been waiting all night. Gareth.

Every ounce of strength I’d felt today evaporates in an instant, replaced by a cold, creeping dread. I haven’t seen him in so long, and I thought I’d never have to again. My feet feel rooted to the ground, a jolt of fear freezing me in place, but I force myself to move, to keep my face steady, even though my heart is pounding so hard I think it might burst.

“What are you doing here?” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend, but I don’t care. I don’t want him here. Not now. Not ever.

Gareth steps forward, the dim streetlight catching his face, and I see the same smug, infuriating expression that used to haunt me every day. “We need to talk, Sasha.”

“No, we don’t,” I say, my voice shaking with barely restrained anger. “I told you to leave me alone. You don’t get to just show up like this.”

He smirks, unaffected, and the familiar arrogance in his eyes makes my stomach turn. “You can’t ignore me forever.”

“I can, and I will,” I hiss, glancing around, hoping no one’s watching this mess unfold. “Just go. We’re done. I have nothing to say to you.”

The tension is thick, his presence a suffocating weight that I thought I’d shed months ago. I’m about to turn and walk away, anything to put distance between us, when I hear footsteps approaching, quick and sure. I look up, and there’s Evie, her expression shifting from concern to something darker as she takes in the scene.

“Sasha, everything okay?” she asks, her voice steady, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She looks between Gareth and me, trying to piece together what’s happening.

Gareth turns, sizing her up with a lazy, dismissive look, and it makes my skin crawl. “This doesn’t concern you,” he says flatly, as if she’s nothing more than an inconvenience.

Evie doesn’t flinch. She steps forward, positioning herself between us, her presence instantly comforting and strong. “She’s asked you to leave,” she says firmly, her eyes never wavering from his. “So why don’t you do that?”

Gareth scoffs, crossing his arms. “And who the hell are you?”

I can see Evie’s jaw tighten, her patience wearing thin. “I’m someone who cares about her,” she says, her voice low and controlled. “Now leave. She doesn’t want you here.”

The moment hangs in the air, tense and brittle, and I want to pull Evie back, tell her to let it go, that I can handle this. But Gareth’s eyes flicker with something dark, and his lips curl into a bitter smile.

“You don’t even know, do you?” he says, laughing under his breath. “You think you know her? You don’t know the half of it.”

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