Page 71 of Until Forever Falls

The days after the funeral blur together, one long, suffocating stretch of nothing. I don’t feel like myself, don’t feel much of anything, really. Everything about life feels wrong now, like there’s a piece missing, and no matter how much I replay it in my head, I can’t fix it.

Brooks hasn’t returned my calls, my texts, nothing. Emily’s kindness feels like a thin veil over the questions she won’t answer. Ruby tries to distract me with extra shifts or small talk about customers, but I see the way she watches me, when she thinks I’m not paying attention. Worry is etched all over her face, but I can’t bring myself to reassure her. It takes too much energy just to exist right now. Breathing is the hardest thing I do these days.

Greg has been hauling out of town every day since the funeral, which is probably his way of avoiding my mom. I can’t say I blame him. Her silence isn’t just a lack of sound; it’s a noose, tightening every time we’re in the same room. We haven’t spoken since the funeral, and I know we never will. She doesn’t need words. Her stare is enough. It says everything—nothing.

I want out. Out of this house, out of Rockport, out of the misery that’s settled in my bones. But I have no plan, nowhere to go, no one waiting on the other side. And even if I did, there’s still that stupid, desperate part of me clinging to the idea that Brooks will come back. That he’ll pick up the phone, swear I’m not as alone as I feel, and say my name like it still means something.

Because without him? I have no one.

I didn’t plan on coming back to school after losing Beckett, but I figured I should at least try to think about the future. I’m not even sure if part of me came back hoping to see Brooks here, but of course, he’s gone. I’ve stopped by his house a couple of times, but it’s always empty. No sign of his parents in weeks, no sign of him. The windows are dark, and I just…I don’t know where he went.

Miles has stuck around, finding ways to keep me occupied at school, like he thinks if I stay busy enough, I won’t notice the gaping wound inside me. I do. And I know he means well, but it doesn’t change anything. I see the way he stiffens at passing cars, how the accident rewired something in him. We’re both just ghosts of who we used to be, circling each other, pretending it helps.

The final bell rings, and I walk out of my last class. The hushed conversations have thinned, but their eyes still find me, still settle like an unwanted touch. Their pity is poison, seeping into the cracks I’m desperately trying to hold together. I don’t want their careful words. I don’t want their practiced grief. They don’t know what it’s like to carry this, and I wish they’d stop acting like they do.

The cold rain nips at my skin as I step outside, but it does little to douse the fire still burning inside me. My steps are quick, each one meant to outrun the thoughts eating me alive.

Then I see them—white Nikes. I follow the line of them upward, and suddenly, I’m looking at him.

Brooks.

Rain lashes against my face, soaking through my clothes, but I barely acknowledge it. My grip tightens around my textbooks, the edges stabbing into my palms. “Brooks!” I call, the sound of my voice cutting through the storm.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even flinch. Just keeps moving, like I don’t exist.

“B, wait!” Desperation pitches my voice higher.

His back stiffens, muscles coiled tight between his damp hoodie. I know he hears me—I know—but he keeps walking, as if I’m not even worth a second of his time.

A vicious panic surges up my spin. My chest constricts as I lunge forward.

I don’t think. I run.

The pavement is slick, my shoes skidding through puddles as I chase him down. The wind steals my voice, but I don’t stop. He’s right there—right there—but I might as well be a thousand miles away. When he finally turns, it’s not with the fire I expect. It’s exhaustion, grief carved into his face. “Dylan,” he murmurs, as if my name tastes like regret.

“Say something,” I demand, stepping closer. “Where the hell have you been? You disappeared after Beckett died, and now you’re…what? Avoiding me?”

His shoulders go rigid. “I can’t,” he whispers. “I can’t keep doing this, Rivers.”

“Doing what?”

“Us.”

My vision tunnels. “No. That’s not—you don’t mean that.”

But he won’t look at me, won’t fight, won’t even defend himself. He just stares at the ground, like he’s already let me go.

“What changed?” The question is a wound splitting open, bleeding out between us. “What changed between when you held me on your bathroom floor and swore you wouldn’t leave…to now?”

His eyes flick up, just for a second. A flash of something—guilt? But then his demeanor changes, and when he finally speaks, it’s worse than anything I could’ve imagined.

“We just shouldn’t be together. I’m sorry.”

Everything inside me collapses at once. My ribs cave. My lungs forget how to work. How in my eighteen years of life have I lost every single thing important to me? I step closer, reaching for him like a drowning person clawing for a raft, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t meet my eyes, doesn’tsave me.

“You don’t get to do this,” I choke out. “You don’t get to walk away, not after everything. Not after—” My voice breaks. “You promised.”

His throat works like he’s swallowing glass, voice barely holding. “It’s not fair to you. I can’t do it.”

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