Page 83 of When We Are Complete

He stands there, stunned. The pain on his face, the disbelief, twists something deep inside me. But I hold my ground, forcing myself to stay cold, detached, even as everything in me screams against it.

“You’re wrong,” he says, his voice low and pleading, reaching out to grab my hand, but I pull away. “Kelly, please. Don’t end this. Don’t shut me out.”

“Jake—” My voice cracks, but I swallow, blinking back tears. I’m not going to cry. Not now. “It’s over. I can’t keep doing this.”

For a second, he just stares at me, searching my face as if he can find some explanation for the cold words coming out of my mouth. “But we can fix this—don’t you get it? I love you, Kelly. We’ve come too far for you to throw this away.”

I look away, staring at the ground, at the broken pieces of the festival scattered around us. “I’m sorry. The whole thing was a mistake. It was never going to work.”

His face clenches, and he opens his mouth to say something more, but then his phone rings, stealing the words from his mouth. He reaches into his pocket, glances at it, his brows drawing together as he reads the name on the screen. His shoulders tense as he hesitates, torn.

“It’s Jenny,” he says, lifting the phone to his ear. “What’s going on?” He listens, his face shifting from confusion to anger to worry in a matter of seconds. “What do you mean? The principal said the boys were suspended.”

Jenny’s voice, small and frantic, comes through on the other end, and Jake’s face hardens. He ends the call and looks back at me, pain and frustration written all over his face.

I stare at him, the man who’s been trying so hard to love me, the man who believes in me even when I can’t. But he doesn’t know. If he knew the real me, he wouldn’t still be standing here.

“Adele’s in trouble,” he says. “I have to go. But I can’t leave you out here.”

“Then go. I’ll be fine.”

He stares at me, pleading. “Can we talk about this later? Just… please, Kelly. Don’t push me away. We can work through this.”

I shake my head. “No. I need to do this on my own. Go. Adele needs you.”

“Kelly—” He steps closer, but I turn away, hugging myself.

“You need to be with your daughter,” I say, my voice curt, clipped, hiding the tremble beneath.

For a moment, he stands there, torn, his hand hanging in the air as if he wants to reach out, to touch me one last time. But finally, he lets it drop to his side, his expression raw and pained. “We’re going to talk as soon as I speak to Adele. I’m not going to lose you again. ”

I force a blank expression. “It’s already over. Just leave.”

But Jake doesn’t move. “I can’t leave you here with the next storm bearing down. Please, just get in your car and go home. So I know you’re safe.”

I hesitate, the snow swirling around us, each flake a piece of me breaking off. If I don’t leave, he’s going to see me breakanyway. “Fine.” I turn, walking to my car, sliding into the driver’s seat, while he watches.

Starting the engine and pulling away, glancing in the mirror to see him—a lone figure against the white snow heading toward his truck. Once he’s out of sight, I take the first right turn and pull over to the side of the road, the engine idling softly as I sit there in the silent car.

Outside, snow falls heavily, blanketing everything in an endless, cold white.

Chapter 48

Kelly

The engine continues to run,the car’s heater struggling to warm the space against the frigid temperatures outside. I glance in the rearview mirror, once, twice. But there’s no reassurance to be found, not this time.

My fingers trace a pattern on the steering wheel—two taps, pause, then two more. It’s a rhythm I’ve repeated a thousand times, one that promises order, control, but right now, it barely holds the storm inside me at bay, and my hands stop moving and just grip the steering wheel instead.

I don’t even know if I’m breathing, but it doesn’t matter.

Jake’s face flashes in my mind, the pain in his eyes, the hurt that I put there. I press my lips together, swallowing down the guilt, the regret. My hand circles the steering wheel. Once. Twice. This is for the best. It has to be. He doesn’t need my chaos, my failure. I would only drag him down, make him regret ever loving me.

But the silence presses in, and I can’t escape the knowledge that I’ve lost something irreplaceable.

Behind me, Jake’s truck passes on the road leading back into town. It soon disappears from sight. He’s gone, and it’s the way it has to be. It’s for the best.

I wait a beat, then turn my car around, heading back to the site of the festival, not ready to go home to Nora. Not yet. I pull over in the shadow of the lighthouse, barely visible through the thickening snow, and sit there, watching the storm bury what’s left of my dream, my insides growing colder until it’s all I am.

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