Page 15 of When the Storm Breaks
I watch her go, the sound of her footsteps fading as the door swings shut behind her. But just before it clicks closed, a laugh escapes me, and I can’t help myself.
“Have fun with your things!” I call after her.
I take a deep, heaving breath and stare at the door like I’m waiting for some kind of sign that she’s not really gone. But I know better.
She’ll be back.
I can feel it.
Chapter 6
Calla
I cross Driftwood’s small parking lot, the cold air needling through my coat. But it’s not the weather that leaves my shoulders tense, my body taut. It’s something else I can’t shake.
The man inside. Still unnamed. Still unsettling. Still under my skin in ways I don’t understand.
I want to forget him, to bury whatever strange pull he has on me—but he’s embedded, woven into the restless current thrumming through my chest.
I want to ignore it. But it’s just not that easy.
I pull my coat tighter and focus on the plan. Tyler’s house.
The thought of facing him twists something in my gut, but my conviction burns hotter. This isn’t a confrontation—I’m just asking questions. And if nothing else, I’ll remind him that Jules isn’t forgotten. She can’t be.
I owe her that.
The drive is longer than I expected. Not because of the distance, but because of the pressure mounting inside me, the churn of thoughtsI can’t quiet. My knuckles ache from gripping the wheel too tightly, the cold still clinging to the air despite the heat blasting at full power. My mind spirals, dissecting every conversation, every moment with Jules that now feels like a warning I missed.
What if I’d pushed harder?
What if she’d come to me sooner?
What if I’d seen the signs?
I shouldn’t be doing this—driving there. I know that. I’ve gone over every reason why it’s a mistake.
But every time I blink, I can still see her on my doorstep. Makeup smudged. Hair knotted messily on top of her head. Eyes weighted with exhaustion.
She brushed it all aside, like always, because pretending was easier than admitting he’d broken something in her.
I should’ve pushed harder. Made her stay. Told her to leave him for good.
The closer I get to Tyler’s house, the harder it is to breathe. Wind rattles the bare branches ahead. The unease in my stomach spreads slowly, tightening through my body with every passing mile. I tell myself it’s the isolation. The fear of being here alone. But it doesn’t stop my hands from trembling against the steering wheel as I pull into his driveway.
When I cut the engine, the stillness wraps around me.
I sit for a moment, eyes fixed on the house’s dark windows, trying to calm my breathing. It’s a modest silhouette against the pale sky—lived-in, but hollow. There’s no real warmth to it; everything about it feels too perfect, like it was built to keep people at a distance, silently shouting that they don’t belong.
I force myself out of the car anyway, my legs dragging as they move up the walkway toward the front door. I knock, heart thudding against my ribs like it’s trying to break out.
And the door slowly creaks open, revealing Tyler.
He looks the same as always—meticulously put together, perfectly controlled. But something’s off. His eyes don’t meet mine with curiosity, but with calculation, like he’s sizing me up, deciding whether I’m worth the effort.
“Calla,” he says, tone polite but clipped, already trying to get rid of me. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi.” My voice comes out stiff, forced. I shove my hands into my pockets to hide the shake. “I just… wanted to check in. See how you’re holding up.”
