Page 63 of Broken Star

“Fine.” She huffs. “But be quick about it. We don’t have all night.”

I nearly ask what else she has on her schedule, but I press my lips together, stopping myself.

Riven gives me a single nod and turns around, just like he did while giving me privacy when I fed from the night fae in the cave.

It’s not much, but I don’t know how much time we have, so I focus back on Matt.

His ghostly form flickers at the edges, and a sick feeling settles in my stomach. Whatever’s keeping him here won’t last much longer.

I swallow hard. “Matt…” I start, a million thoughts running through my mind, unable to fully focus on any of them.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was struggling to find the right words. “Listen, Saph,” he says. “Before I go, I need to say something.”

I nod, bracing myself.

“I was a jerk to you,” he admits. “I blamed you for everything that went wrong in my life. For not getting that scholarship, for being stuck in Presque Isle...” His voice cracks. “I unleashed my failures on you, and it wasn’t fair.”

“You were hurting,” I say softly.

“That’s not an excuse.” He shakes his head, and I don’t argue, since it’s true. “I loved you, but I loved you in a way that was bad for you. I tried to control you—like what the night fae did to us in their court. I tried to keep you small so I wouldn’t feel so small myself. I know what it feels like to be on the other side of that now, and I’m sorry. More than you’ll ever know.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tight. Because this is the Matt I remember from before everything went wrong—the one who could be vulnerable, and who could admit when he messed up.

“I understand why you did it,” I tell him. “But you’re right—it wasn’t okay.”

“I know.” He gives me a sad smile. “And I need to apologize for something else, too. For hanging on when you were clearly done. For that proposal...” He trails off, wincing at the memory.

“That’s partly my fault,” I admit, since if he’s able to accept blame where he deserves it, I need to do the same. “I should have ended it sooner. I knew for months that we weren’t right for each other anymore, but I was scared.”

He tilts his head slightly, his brows drawing together. “Scared of what?”

“I guess I was scared of whatever was coming next. Of giving up the past for an unknown future. One I could never imagine was possible,” I say, motioning around at the impossibilities around us. “You can’t want something that you don’t know exists.”

“You were always meant for bigger things than Presque Isle,” he says. “Things that were bigger than me.”

My magic pulses beneath my skin, a reminder of how much has changed. “Matt, I?—”

“You don’t have to say you love me,” he cuts in. “I know you don’t. At least, not anymore. And that’s okay.”

Relief floods through me, because he’s right. I care about him—I always will—but the romantic love faded months ago.

Matt was my past, but he was never my future.

“Just promise me something,” he says, his form fading at the edges. “Save Zoey. Don’t let her end up like me.”

“I promise,” I say firmly, and I mean it with all my heart.

He smiles—a real smile this time, not bitter or angry. “And there’s one more thing,” he says slowly, as if he doesn’t like what’s coming next, but is determined to say it anyway.

“What’s that?” I lean forward, watching his ghostly form become more transparent by the second.

“I saw the way he looked at you that night.” He glances at Riven, who’s still turned away to give us privacy, even though the space is so small that he can obviously hear us.

My pulse stutters at Riven’s name.

“What night?” I ask, returning my focus to Matt.

“New Year’s Eve. At the Maple Pig.” He tilts his head slightly, watching me closely. “He looked at you the same way I did when I first saw you in the hallway at high school.”

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