Page 122 of When the Storm Breaks
When I pull into the parking lot, I check my phone again, knowing I shouldn’t. Knowing it’ll only hurt.
But some stupid, desperate part of me still hopes. Still waits.
Nothing.
I make my way across the parking lot, and before I can even reach the office door, movement catches my eye from inside.
Hannah shoots up from her desk, crossing the room with an intensity that cuts straight through the fog that I’ve been trapped in for days.
“Jesus, where have you been?”
Her voice is harsh but hushed as she grabs my arm, pulling me aside before I can even open my mouth.
I lost track of time, I want to say.Everything hurts.
But those words are too easy. A shield. A bandage slapped over something deeper, something messier.
She looks at me—really studies me—her eyes narrowing. “You need to pull it together before you go in there. I heard they’re thinking about dropping you.”
The words land like a blow to the chest, pressing down until it’shard to breathe. My throat tightens. My vision blurs for a second. The backs of my eyes prickle, shame curling hot in my stomach.
What a mess I’ve made.
Hannah must see something in my face, because her expression softens—just a little. She leans in, lowering her voice. “Is it Jules?”
My body tenses, pulse spiking.
Fight or flight kicks in, but this time, I want flight.
My feet stay planted, but every part of me itches to run. To escape.
My fingers tighten around the strap of my bag, gripping it like it might tether me in place. I shrug—a noncommittal answer. The safest response I can manage.
A second passes. And before I can stop myself, the words slip out.
“I’ve been seeing someone, I guess.”
Her brows lift slightly, but she stays quiet, letting me get there on my own.
“It’s… new,” I say, though the word feels too flimsy, too small for the significance of it. “But the other day, he told me something about his sister. Something awful. And then he just… left.”
The second I say it, regret slams into me. Panic. Shame.
What the hell am I doing?
This isn’t my story to tell. It’s Haiyden’s life. Haiyden’s past. And I’m spilling pieces of it to a stranger because I’m so desperate for someone to care.
But Hannah doesn’t look judgmental. She doesn’t look like she’s waiting to pick my words apart. There’s just quiet understanding in her eyes.
“Maybe he just needs time? To figure it out?” she offers gently.
I shake my head, slow and unsure. “I don’t know… Haiyden’s just not acting like himself.”
Something shifts in Hannah’s expression. A flicker of realization.
“Wait,” she says carefully. “Are you talking about Haiyden and Willow Greystone? The twins?”
I nod, but a cold shiver crawls up my spine.
