Page 45 of Gathered Sparkle

There’s a muffled sound from the other side, a sob quickly stifled like she’s holding her hand over her mouth.

Fuck. Sylus was right. She’s hurting just as much.

A moment later, another message comes through.

I don’t even know where to start.

Neither do I. But I don’t say that. Instead, I let my head rest against the door, staring blankly at the ceiling as I try to will away the weight crushing my chest.

The phone buzzes again in my hand.

I thought you were dead.

I thought I’d killed you.

And Rosalee.

Rosalee. Her twin. Her other half. Gone because of me.

Why doesn’t she hate me?

The self-loathing I’ve carried for years surges forward, drowning me. I don’t know what’s worse. Thinking I killed the love of my life or knowing she survived but lost her twin because of me.

I carried that every day. The guilt, the grief. It’s all I’ve had. And now… now you’re here, and I don’t know how to handle it.

My hands shake as I type.

I don’t know how to do this, Nova.

I don’t know how to even look at you without feeling like I’m drowning in it all over again.

You have no idea who I am today, what happened, what made me that way.

I’m not the boy you missed.

The silence from the other side of the door feels like a lifetime. My stomach twists, torn between wanting her to respond and dreading whatever she’ll say next.

Finally, I hear her shift, the rustle of fabric against the door.

“I don’t know how to do this either,” she whispers. “But I want to try. Please. Just… let me try.”

Her words hang between us.And God, did I miss her voice.It still sounds the same, just a little more mature and a lot sadder. Tears prick the corner of my eyes as I press the back of my head against the door, closing them as a shaky breath escapes through my teeth. After a few deep breaths, another text comes through.

Yes, I missed my Ace, but I’m not the same Nova I was either. Maybe present Ace and present Nova have been through enough shit that they still fit together the same way the sweet teen versions of us did.

Fuck.

I don’t answer. I don’t know how. It’s too much—this,her, everything.

The phone buzzes again.

Tell me what happened?

My fingers curl around the phone.

What happened?

Where do I even begin?

---