Page 88 of Freestyle
I glance away. “That’s not my story to tell.”
He watches me for a long beat, then nods once. Just once.
“You’re serious about her.”
I don’t say anything, but I think he hears the answer in the silence.
Remy doesn’t push.
Not in the way most people would. He just walks beside me for another beat, quiet now. Thinking, maybe. Adjusting.
Then he says, “If something’s going down… I want in.”
I glance at him, caught off guard by the shift in his voice. It’s not teasing anymore. No smirk, just that rare kind of seriousness he only brings out when things matter.
“It’s not your problem,” I say, softer than before.
“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, but it’s tight. “Maybe it is. If you and Gray are this deep into something, if Rowyn’s at the center of it, I should’ve known. I should’ve noticed.”
“You were with Fallon,” I say, before I can stop myself. Not an accusation, just a fact that still stings.
His jaw ticks. “You could’ve told me.”
I don’t respond because maybe we should’ve, and maybe we couldn’t.
He lets out a slow breath. “I don’t care what happened. Or how bad it is. If someone’s coming after her, then I want tohelp.”
I study him. Really look. And there it is, beneath the guilt, beneath the confusion.
Loyalty.
The kind that doesn’t expire.
So I nod. “You might regret that.”
He huffs a laugh. “I’ve followed you into worse.”
And that’s how I know; when the reckoning comes, it won’t just be Gray and me standing in the fire.
It’ll be all three of us.
I clap Remy on the shoulder, firm, not dismissive. Just final.
“Thanks, man,” I say, quieter now. “Really.”
He gives me a look like he’s still trying to solve a puzzle with half the edges missing, but he nods. Because that’s Remy, under all the charm, all the noise, the loyalty’s always been there. Even when we drifted, even when he didn’t see the storm brewing.
“I gotta meet her,” I add, glancing toward the quad. “She’s waiting.”
Remy raises an eyebrow, but this time, there’s no teasing. Just a small, knowing smile. “Then don’t keep her waiting.”
I smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
And with that, I turn, shouldering the weight of everything I didn’t say, and head toward the only gravity that matters anymore.
I spot her before shesees me.
She’s perched on the stone steps outside the psych building, elbows resting on her knees, fingers absently twisting the ring she always forgets to take off. Her blonde hair is down today, loose and wild, catching the wind like it was made to be admired in motion. Sunlight threads through it like it’s trying to show off, gilding her like a secret the universe forgot to keep quiet.
