Page 24 of The Rookie

“You okay?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

“I’m fine,” she says automatically. But there’s a crack in her voice, just enough to betray her.

I tilt my head. “Liar.”

She glares at me, and for a second, I think she’s going to tell me to leave. But instead, she sighs and looks back out at the ocean.

“I broke up with Gavin,” she says quietly.

The words hit me harder than I expect.

“Wow,” I say, unsure what else to add. “That’s...big. I mean three months is nothing to sniff at.”

She lets out a hollow laugh. “Yeah. It wasn’t exactly part of the plan. I really liked him. But it finally clicked tonight. He wasn’t it, and I’m not one to waste time.”

I study her for a moment, the way her shoulders are tense, like she’s holding the weight of the world.

“Why’d you do it?” I ask, surprising myself with the question. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

She hesitates, like she’s not sure how much to tell me. “Because he doesn’t see me,” she says finally. “Not really. Like, he doesn’t see me like I want to be seen. Does that make sense?”

There’s a rawness in her voice that catches me off guard, and for once, I don’t know what to say.

“Perfect sense,” I say, nodding. I know exactly what she means.

I can’t stop myself from imagining what it must feel like—to be with someone who doesn’t see all of you, who just skims the surface and calls it love. It makes me think of my high school relationship and friendships, of the way people always seem to stop at the parts of me that are easy to like. The athlete. The charming guy. The dude who can light up a party. But the rest of it? The messy, complicated stuff? No one sticks around long enough to figure it out. And honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever let them.

“Maybe it’s easier that way,” I say finally, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “To not be fully seen, I mean. Less risk.”

Her eyes snap to mine, sharp and probing, and for a second, I regret saying anything. But then she softens, like she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, almost to herself. “But it’s lonelier, too.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “It is.”

There’s a moment of silence between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. I feel like we’ve just stepped into some unspoken understanding, one that doesn’t need words to make sense.

“Well,” I say after a moment, forcing a smile to lighten the mood, “he’s an idiot if he can’t see you.”

She glances at me, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “That’s your advice? Call him an idiot and move on?”

I shrug. “Pretty much. Guys like that don’t deserve you.”

Her smile fades, and she looks back at the waves, her expression pensive. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe I’m asking for too much.”

“No,” I say firmly, stepping closer. It pains me to see her down like this. And hey, I might be a selfish bastard a lot of the time. But when it comes to Avery, if she needs a pump-me-up, I’m the guy to give it to her. The conviction in my voice surpriseseven me. “You’re not asking for too much. I mean, are youcrazy, Avery? Someone someday is going to see you. I meanreallysee you. And they’re going to make you happy in ways you can’t even imagine. You’re fucking amazing.”

“I’m amazing?” She lets out a breath, her gaze still fixed on the waves. “How do you know that?”

“Because I know you.” The words come out sharper than I intended, my frustration spilling over—not at her, but at the fact that she can’t see herself the way I do. “Maybe we don’t get along the greatest, but I’ve known you for years now. And yeah, you might be a special brand of crazy. But once you find that person, it’s going to be a game changer. They’ll know exactly how lucky they are to have you.”

She looks up at me then, her hazel eyes wide and searching, and for a second, it feels like the whole world has gone still. The sound of the waves fades, the distant chatter of the others dissolves, and it’s just the two of us in this strange, suspended moment.

“Thanks,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t tell if you really mean that, but I appreciate you saying it.”

“I do mean it,” I say, my voice quieter now, steady but gentle. “Don’t let him make you doubt yourself. You’re better than that. You deserve better than that.”

Her gaze lingers on mine, and for a fleeting moment, I think she might say something else—something I can feel pressing against the edges of whatever’s been left unspoken between us. The air between us feels charged, heavy with something I can’t name.

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