Page 12 of Until Forever Falls

“Hear you out? Now?” A cold, cynical laugh spills out of me. “Tenyearslater? You’ve got to be kidding me. I begged you, Brooks.Beggedyou to tell me what happened—what changed after—” My voice falters, reluctant to speak the truth, but I force myself to get to the point. “But you were gone before I could even grasp what was happening.” I shake my head, the skin bunching around my eyes, a deep crease forming between my brows. “You fucking left when I needed you most.”

His expression hardens, but there’s a softness in his eyes that doesn’t match the way he’s holding himself. It’s like he’s caught between wanting to fix everything and knowing he might never get the chance.

“I needed you too,” Brooks says, his voice tight, almost defensive. “More than you even know.”

My next words are cut short as Aaron rounds the corner, and instinctively, I take a step away from Brooks.

“Hey, didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“You’re fine,” I reply, breathless. “I just got down here. Um…you remember Brooks? From the pool?”

Aaron watches us silently, his face impassive, yet there’s a strange energy building in the space around him.

“Of course.” His voice is polite as he offers his hand. “Aaron Sinclair.”

“Brooks Holland. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

There’s an edge to the exchange. The handshake holds for just a fraction too long, the space brimming with unexpressed thoughts.

“Here for long?” Aaron asks casually.

“Just for the night,” Brooks replies, still giving me his full attention. “I head out in the morning.”

Aaron nods curtly and then turns to me.“We should get going. The reservation won’t wait,” he says, his look a little pointed, urging me to wrap things up.

“Of course.” Brooks agrees but he doesn’t move. His eyes hold me captive, and in them, I can see an ache that pierces through to my soul. “Dylan,” he says with a softness that feels intimate, like he’s afraid to push too hard. “Can I just have your number? Or…give you mine? So we can talk.”

A sharpness seizes my throat. I don’t know what to say. The last thing I want is to open this door again, to let him in after all these years of avoiding it. Even though my mind is screaming to say no, my heart refuses to let him slip away.

I notice a shift beside me and glance over. Aaron’s eyes flicker to me, his lips pressed into a thin line, impatience written all over him. He doesn’t say a word—just stands there expectantly, waiting for me to respond.

“Sure.”

“Yeah?”

I nod, just once, as I try to make sense of what I’m doing.

Brooks pulls his phone from his pocket, and I rattle off my number without a second thought, speaking a little too fast. “I’m not promising anything,” I add, just to make it clear this isn’t some attempt at friendship.

“I wouldn’t expect that,” he says, not lifting his gaze from the screen. I’m half ready for a ping, for him to double check that I didn’t hand him a bogus number, but instead, he tucks the phone away and turns his attention back to me.

I look off to the side, keeping the mess in my head hidden. I shouldn’t feel a goddamn thing. His presence is rattling me, and it’s infuriating that I’m apparently unable to close that chapter and move on.

“I should get going. But, Dylan, I—”

“Brooks,” I say sharply, raising my hand.

He pauses, eyes searching mine, then exhales like he’s releasing something buried deep. “I owe you an apology. I don’t expect you to accept it, but you need to hear it.”

I lift my chin in acknowledgement, my gaze barely meeting his before I drop it away. What am I supposed to say to that? A decade of agony—of shoving it all down, forcing myself to forget until nothing was left to feel. And now he’s here, tossing out an apology like it can undo the damage, like it’s not a knife straight to the chest. I’m not ready for this—hell, I’m never going to be ready for this.

“Not now. We can talk later.”

“Oh…um, okay. Have a good night, Dill,” he says softly, and the nickname feels awkward, like it belongs to someone else. It doesn’t fit anymore—not when it feels like we’re two completely different people now.

I spin on my heel and head towards the door, not sparing him another word. Aaron grabs my hand, but it’s not the comfort it should be—I should feel relieved, but instead it’s just a reminder of how hollow everything’s become. And it’s not even his fault, but damn if it doesn’t make it harder to breathe.

---