Page 17 of The Hang Up
I check my phone as it buzzes with a message. It’s from the pharmacy. My mom’s refill is ready.
I respond quickly, staring at the screen for a long moment before opening a new message.
Holden’s name is still in my contacts. I never deleted it. Never blocked it.
I guess I wasn’t as over him as I thought.
My fingers hover over the keyboard.
Then I type a single word.
Truce.
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it, and the moment it’s gone, I let out a long breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.
It’s not forgiveness. It’s not starting over. But maybe it’s a new beginning.
And tonight, that feels like enough.
EIGHT
Holden
My heart skips when my phone buzzes on the workbench. I’ve been staring at the screen, waiting, hoping, praying, and now, there it is. Her name lights up the screen, and my stomach clenches tight.
Truce.
One word, yet it feels like she’s handed me the world on a silver platter. I grip the phone tight, rereading the single word like it might vanish if I blink too long.
It’s a start. It’s something.
“Thank God,” I breathe, my voice rough in the silence of the workshop. My fingers shake a little as I text back, wanting desperately to get this right.
Thank you.
That’s all I send, simple and honest. Anything more might scare her off, and I can’t risk losing even the tiniest sliver of progress. I place the phone carefully back onto the bench and pace the shop, my heart racing. I run my hand over a table I’ve been working on for Auden and Wade. It’s nearly finished, the dark wood gleaming under the lights. This workshop is my sanctuary, but tonight, even the familiar scent and steady rhythm of my work can’t settle the restless energy inside me.
Lena texted me.
The past six months of rejection and heartbreak suddenly feel worth it. Every cold stare, every sharp word, every sleepless night, I’d endure them all over again for this one chance.
I grab a broom, sweeping the floor, needing something to occupy my hands while my mind races. Thoughts of Lena flood my mind, and suddenly, it’s not enough to wait and see what comes next. I need a plan, a way to show her I’m serious this time.
A truce means peace, but peace alone isn’t enough. I want her heart, her forgiveness. I want her love again, forever this time.
I glance at the clock, realizing it’s getting late. There’s no way I’ll sleep, though. Not now. Not tonight.
I sit at the bench and pick up another piece of paper. Writing her letters has become second nature, and tonight feels like the perfect time to keep that promise going. This letter needs to be different, though. It needs to reflect our truce.
Lena,
Thank you for giving me even this small chance. I won’t take it for granted.
When I saw your text tonight, it felt like breathing again for the first time in years. I promise I’ll respect whatever boundaries you set. I want you to know that no matter what happens next, I’m here. I’ll wait as long as you need.
Forever yours,
Holden
