Page 44 of Undone

It happened one quiet evening at the cabin, when he simply took her hand, pulled out the ring, and asked her if she was ready for forever. No theatrics, no speeches, at least none that were overheard, just the kind of honest simplicity that made sense for them.

Their love was timeless. Classic. Beautiful.

“That sounds perfect,” I said.

“I’m so excited,” she agreed, a soft laugh escaping her. “And I have the best maid of honor that ever lived.”

I smiled at my best friend, who would drop everything to be there for me.

“Enough about me,” Dotty said. “Gracie’s out of summer camp, so your first tutoring session with her is coming up. Are you ready to see Dorian all the time?” I could tell by the way she asked that she was giving me space but not letting me off the hook. She knew we couldn’t keep avoiding talking about her brother forever.

It had been weeks since that moment—I could still feel the heat of Dorian’s breath lingering on my skin, like a whisper of something almost tangible.

It was on an endless loop—a silent reminder of what nearly happened.

Dotty hadn’t said anything outright, but the tension between us had been building for weeks, hanging just below the surface.

“I was wondering when you’d ask…”

Dotty let the silence stretch, her gaze fixed on me. “Well?” she prompted, a single eyebrow arching.

I hesitated for a moment, then said, “There’s nothing to talk about. It wasn’t?—”

“Bull,” she interrupted. “It was almost something, from what Colt said.” She leaned back and crossed her arms.

“I’m not exactly in a position to jump into anything right now, so you have nothing to worry about.” I swallowed, looking down at my hand.

“Dorian… he doesn’t get attached, and with everything going on with John now bringing you into everything,” she said, looking down at our feet. “I just worry about you.”

I thought back to the day I got the tattoo—an impulsive decision during one of those on-again, off-again phases with John in our early adulthood. I was looking for something to symbolize my independence, a way to assert my freedom from the expectations that weighed me down for so long from my parents. John, ever the charmer, was right there, urging me on.

The hopeless romantic inside me longed for a life that felt stable—one where love wasn’t something to fear, but to hold on to. I imagined building a future with someone who understood me. But then there was my history with John. After everything he put me through, the idea of a love like that seemed like a distant, impossible dream.

“Where’d you go?” Dotty’s voice brought me back to the present.

“Sorry, just lost in thought.”

“Did… something happen between you and Dorian?”

“No, nothing happened,” I said, my voice steady. “That day at the hospital… After everything went down, we were both barely holding it together.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “He needed someone, and so did I. We were both there for each other. I think that kind of... bonded us in a way. But we aren’t anything more than friends.”

Dotty shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you then,” she murmured.

“Stop it,” I chuckled, squeezing her hand. “You had a lot going on. You don’t need to apologize.”

Dotty let out a shaky laugh, a small sob slipping through. “Yeah, but you found out your boyfriend was a murderer on the same day mine was shot.”

I smiled, though it was laced with sadness, and raised my coffee cup. “What a day for us both, huh?”

She met my gaze, her eyes full of both sorrow and understanding. “Let’s not do it again,” she said as she clicked her cup to mine.

As I pushed open the heavy door to Woodstone Elementary, a strange combination of comfort and anxiety curled in my stomach. The school was mostly quiet, with only the distant hum of a vacuum cleaner.

It was still summer break, and the hallways were nearly empty. I had gotten word that I could come by early to start preparing for the new school year and set up my classroom.

The floor beneath my feet gleamed from a fresh waxing, and I smiled imagining the students who would soon be filling these halls in the coming weeks.

I walked down the corridor, my thoughts drifting to how I’d arrange the desks and what kind of reading space I could create.

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