Page 51 of Beautifully Broken
“Do you think she regrets it?” I finally asked.
“Nope.” Nate stretched his arms over his head. “But I do think she’s probably sitting somewhere right now trying to figure out if you regret it.”
That thought made my chest ache.
“Emily’s not a rebound,” I said.
“No one thinks she is,” Nate replied. “Except maybe you. But that’s your guilt talking, not the truth.”
I stared down at my coffee and whispered, “She looked beautiful last night.”
“She always looks beautiful.”
“Yeah. But I’d never let myself see it before.”
Nate stood up and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Then maybe it’s time you do.”
He left not long after, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a needy orange cat who refused to give me space.
I still didn’t know what I was going to say to her. But I knew the next time I kissed her, I wouldn’t run from it.
Chapter 10
Caleb
I almost turned around twice.
Once in the driveway, when Nacho wouldn’t stop staring at me like he knew I was about to do something stupid. Again at the end of the road, when the sun caught the edges of the clouds just right, painting the sky like something out of a memory. I could’ve sworn I heard Hannah’s laugh in that silence. The soft, familiar kind that used to spill out of her and fill our kitchen, warm and honeyed.
But I didn’t turn around.
Not because I wasn’t scared—I was. God, I was. My fingers had gone cold on the steering wheel, and I’d been white-knuckling it all the way across town. But I kept driving. Because somewhere between guilt and grief and all the damn days I spent pretending I was fine… I started to miss her.
Emily.
I missed the way her voice got softer when she said my name. The way she saw through every mask I wore, even the ones I didn’t know I had on. I missed her laugh, her stubbornness, the way she’d nudge my shoulder just to feel me lean back. I missed the way her eyes would flicker like she was holding back a storm, and how somehow, being near her always made it easier to breathe.
So I drove.
She was on the porch when I pulled up. Bare legs tucked under her, a hoodie swallowing her frame. Her hair was down, curling at the ends, and she had a book in her lap she clearly wasn’t reading. I saw the way her head snapped up when she heard the truck. The way her spine straightened like she hadn’t dared to hope but had anyway.
And when she saw it was me, she didn’t smile.
She just waited.
I climbed out slow, palms sweating like I was seventeen again and walking up to ask her out for the first time. Only this time, there was a hell of a lot more on the line.
“Hey,” I said, my voice catching somewhere in the middle of my throat.
She nodded. “Hey.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, wishing I was better at this. Wishing I could hand her some flowers or crack a joke or say something poetic. But that wasn’t us. Not anymore.
“I didn’t know if I should come,” I admitted, eyes flicking toward the front steps. “Didn’t know if you'd want to see me after…”
“After you kissed me and left?” Her tone wasn’t angry. It was tired. Like she’d been holding her breath for a long time.
“Yeah,” I said. “That.”
