Page 52 of It's Only Ever Been You

The lie is easier than unpacking the truth, but I know Jace isn’t the type to let things slide. Sure enough, his reply comes fast.

Jace: You sure? You looked a little wrecked, man.

I close my eyes for a moment, letting out a slow breath before I type back. My jaw tightens as I type back.

Me: I’ll manage. Don’t worry about me. Go focus on your wedding.

Jace: Alright. Just checking in. Don’t overthink it. See you tomorrow.

The lie tastes bitter, but it’s easier than unpacking the truth. I pocket my phone and push up from the chair, the tightness in my chest feeling like it might crush me. The air in the lobby feels stifling, heavy with unspoken words and memories I can’t shake. I need to get out of here before it drowns me.

Stepping outside, the warm night air hits me like a slap to the face, cutting through the tension coiled tight in my chest since I saw her. It doesn’t calm the storm brewing inside me, but it’s something.

I lean against the side of the hotel, staring out at the parking lot. Cars come and go, their headlights sweeping across the pavement, but my mind’s stuck somewhere else—lost in the past and trying to make sense of the present.

Anger burns low in my gut, anger at myself for letting her go, for being too much of a coward to fight for what we had. Regret follows close behind, twisting the knife. And under it all, a flicker of something I don’t want to name: hope.

Emma’s voice echoes in my mind, the words weaving through the chaos. I should feel relief—she didn’t shut me down, didn’t look at me like I was a stranger. But her hesitation, the way she held herself too tight, makes it clear we’re far from okay.

She was right there. Close enough to touch, close enough that I could count the freckles on her cheeks if I wanted to. Fuck me, I wanted to.

I pull my phone from my pocket, scrolling aimlessly through notifications I don’t care about. My thumb hesitates over an unopened email from my agent, but I swipe past it, not in the mood for work. I don’t even realize where I’m heading until I open my photo gallery.

I know exactly what I’m looking for.

The picture isn’t much—a candid shot from years ago, taken during one of those lazy afternoons we spent together. Emma’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, her nose buried in a book, a half-empty mug of coffee on the table in front of her. She’s not looking at the camera, not even aware I took it, but the soft curve of her smile and the way her hair falls over her shoulder make it one of my favorite photos.

I stare at it for a moment, my chest tightening. I used to look at this picture when I needed to remember what it felt like to be happy. Now, it’s just a reminder of what I lost.

The door behind me swings open, and Jace steps out, his phone in hand. He glances up, spotting me, and his brow furrows. “Hey. Thought I’d grab a quick breather. Just wrapped up with the groomsmen for the night—heading back to Sierra now. You doing alright?”

I shove my phone back into my pocket, straightening up. “Needed some air.”

Jace walks over, his gaze sharp as he studies me. “You sure that’s all it is?”

“Yeah,” I lie, because what else can I say?

He doesn’t buy it, of course. He never does. Crossing his arms, he leans against the wall beside me. “You’ve got that look.”

I glance at him, frowning. “What look?”

“The one you get when you’re overthinking everything,” Jace says, smirking slightly. “She’s in your head, huh?”

I huff out a laugh, low and humorless. “She’s always been in my head.”

Jace’s expression shifts, his smirk softening into something closer to understanding. “You know, Emma’s the kind of woman who deserves all or nothing. Half-assing it isn’t going to cut it.”

“I know that,” I say quietly, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve always known that.”

“Then don’t wait too long to figure out what the hell you’re doing,” Jace says, his tone serious now. “You’re not going to get many second chances with someone like her.”

His phone buzzes in his hand, and he glances down, sighing. “Alright, I’ve gotta head out. Sierra’s waiting for me. You sure you’re good?”

I nod, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He gives me one last look, as if trying to read between the lines, then claps me on the shoulder. “Alright. Don’t screw this up, man.”

I watch him walk off toward the parking lot, his words hanging heavy in the air. Don’t screw this up.

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