Page 52 of What Broke First
"Lily?"
Her voice came through thick and syrupy. “Mmm. You always answer my calls after midnight. That has to mean something."
He sat on the edge of the bed, already regretting it. ”You're drunk."
She giggled, the kind of giggle that used to mean his night was about to get very naked. ”Maybe. Maybe not. Who cares?"
"Lily..."
"I'm lying in bed," she whispered. “Alone. Naked. Wondering if the new partner wants a celebratory encore. You still know where I live, right?"
Matt closed his eyes, hard. His jaw tensed. The blood in his body was absolutely not listening to reason.
He let out a breath through his nose and stood up, pacing the room once, twice.
"Lily...no."
She laughed, but it cracked in the middle. "No? God, you used to want me."
"That's not who I am anymore."
"You sure? Because I'd put money on you being hard right now."
His silence gave her the answer.
"I knew it,” she said, voice dropping. ”You still want me."
"I want peace, Lily,” Matt said quietly. ”And you...you're a bad memory. One, I'm done replaying."
She went silent for a beat.
Then came the sob. Fragile. Slurred. Real.
"Why can't you just forget her, Matt?" she whispered. ”Why can't you just love me?"
He didn't answer right away. He sat down, heart pounding, towel clinging to his damp skin.
"You deserve someone who doesn't wake up every day trying to fix the mess he made," he said. ”Someone who isn't carrying around the ghost of what he lost."
She sniffed.
"Goodnight, Lily."
"Matt..."
He hung up.
The silence that followed was deafening. But it was clean.
He felt like he'd chosen the right kind of pain.
Chapter 27: The Reckoning
Matt was up early. Too early, really, but being awake beat the alternative, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and replaying every bad decision like a personal highlight reel.
He pulled into Sarah’s driveway just as the sun began spraying its rays all over the pavement as if the universe was mocking him with a cinematic entrance.
The smell of fresh coffee floated from the open kitchen window, mingling with the faint sound of laughter. The kids were at the table, mid-giggle, probably using syrup as paint again. His heart pulled tight and loose at the same time like it hadn’t decided if this was joy or heartbreak.
