Page 133 of Seven Lost Summers
Scarlet leans in a little. “They laugh more now. They’ve been lighter since they came back. It’s like you’ve made them remember who they were.”
She pauses.
“I think you helped them remember Bianca,” she adds.
My hands still. The mug stays warm, but I go cold all over.
I look away.
The ache spreads fast. Through my chest. Into my throat. Down to the hollow place I never let anyone see.
That wasn’t what I needed to hear. That I’m a trigger. A stand-in. A fucking ghost dressed in someone else’s memories. That this impossible thing burning between me and Theo, between me and Nate might not be about me at all.
I take a sip of coffee, not wanting her to see how much that last comment fucking hurts. But then I catch the glint of the ring on her finger. It’s easier to focus on that than the mess in my chest.
I set my cup down and reach across the table, grabbing her hand. “Are you gonna tell me about this monster?”
Scarlet’s cheeks flush instantly. “Ugh. That idiot. We were in Rome. We’d had the dumbest fight over gelato, and I was still pissed. He says nothing. Not a word, only pulls this box out of his jacket, hands it to me, and walks away.”
I blink. “Walks away?”
“Yeah, he didn’t even wait for me to open it. Just strolled off like he was going to buy bread or something. Meanwhile I’m standing there, furious, holding a ring box and thinking, this absolute dickhead is the love of my life. I almost threw it at him.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” Her voice softens. “Because when I opened it, I swear to God my heart stopped. I could see everything. Who he is, who he’s still trying to be. Every stupid fight, every time he showed up when he didn’t have to. The way he loves me, even when I’m impossible. That ring wasn’t just a promise. It was every messy, complicated part of us, and him saying he’s all in.”
I look down at her hand again. “I’m happy for you.”
She squeezes my fingers, just once. “You know, you deserve that too.”
“Yeah,” I say. But it doesn’t feel true. Not today.
I let go of her hand and stare into my coffee, trying to believe I’m not merely a placeholder in someone else’s grief. That I’m not chasing something already broken.
I want to believe it.
But that ache under my ribs won’t let go.
Chapter 23
Nate
It’sfuckeduphowcomforting this feels with Quinn around. Her being here, watching everything through that damn camera of hers… it’s giving me a piece of myself back. Back before all the shit happened. Before the silence. Before Bianca’s name started tasting like grief every time I thought about her.
There was a time when I used to laugh more.
Talk shit. Throw myself into life as if it couldn’t touch me. Fear was something other people carried. I was born with bare hands and a bulletproof grin. That version of me doesn’t exist anymore. He’s buried under the years of loss.
Now, I exist in the after.
But Quinn... she cracks something open. Brings flickers of that old me back. Little slivers of light cutting through all the dark. She doesn’t know she’s doing this. But she is, and I don’t know whether to thank her or run until the ache in my chest stops.
I was never the serious one.
That was Theo. Hood up, walls high, hiding behind silence as though it were armor. But after Bianca died, I turned into the one who couldn’t talk. Couldn’t breathe or register anything that didn’t burn.
The steaks are already drowning in marinade. Soy. Garlic. Black vinegar. A fuck-ton of cracked pepper. My hands are deep in a bowl of marinade, coating the steaks I bought this afternoon from some overpriced butcher. The radio hums low in the background. My fingers are stained with sauce, my jaw’s clenched but my thoughts are somewhere else entirely.
