Page 112 of F*ckboys

I pound on Fallon's door with a fury born of desperation, panic rising as the seconds tick by without response.

"Fallon! Open the damn door!" I shout, rattling the handle in vain. No sound emerges from within. No sign of life.

The apartment is as silent as her phone, as unyielding as her heart.

I lean against the door, chest heaving. How did we come to this? When did the laughter fade, warmth leaching from her eyes, replaced by something hard and cold? Or was it there all along and I was just too happy to be back with her that I refused to see it?

A dull ache settles behind my eyes. I never saw the end coming. Never imagined a day where I'd be shut out so completely, barred from the life we were just starting to build together.

"Fallon, please," I whisper, forehead pressed to the wood that keeps me from her. That may always keep me from her now.

"Don't do this. We can work through it. Whatever it is, we can—"

The door gives beneath my weight, creaking open. I stumble forward into the condo, pulse racing at the thought of seeing her combined with the heady, disconcerting thrill of breaking into someone's home. I make a mental note that if I can ever possibly salvage this relationship, we need to improve her condo's security immediately.

But it's empty. No signs of disturbance, no clues to her abrupt disappearance. Just the hollow echoes of happier times mocking me in my grief.

I pace the length of her condo, anger and panic warring for dominance. She can't just disappear. Can't leave me with nothing but the shredded remains of my heart on her floor.

There has to be an explanation. Some reason she's cut ties so abruptly, sealing me out of her life. Out of her heart.

My hands clench at my sides, nails biting into my flesh. I need to know. Even if the truth is my undoing, I have to understand why she left me, why she betrayed me like this.

With trembling fingers, I dial Mia's number. If anyone has answers, it's her.

One ring. Two. The line clicks. "Aksel, I can't—"

"Where is she?" I demand, pulse pounding behind my eyes. "What the hell is going on?"

Silence. Then, softly, "I'm sorry, Aksel. I can't tell you anything. You should talk to Fallon yourself."

The line goes dead. I stare at the phone in disbelief, rage burning through my veins. No one seems willing to give me the answers I deserve.

I picture the phone shattering against the wall in a burst of glass and sparks, fragments raining down around me. My chest heaves with the force of my anger, vision hazy with red. But I know that although it would give me a moment's satisfaction, I need to keep my phone intact in case she calls me back.

There's only one way to get the truth, then. I won't stop until I have the answers I need. I won't rest until Fallon's before me, telling me why she destroyed us.

I'm not letting her go that easily. She owes me more than fading into the shadows. She owes me the truth.

And I'll tear this whole damn city apart to find it.

My phone nearly slips from numb fingers as I dial her work number, dread pooling in my gut. She hasn't been in for days, they tell me. An unexpected leave of absence, with no notice given. Courses postponed indefinitely.

The phone slips from my grasp, clattering to the floor. She's erased herself from my life as neatly as ripping a page from a book.

No loose ends remaining. No mercy given.

Gone. She's just gone.

Chapter 63

Fallon

The phone buzzes again, rattling against the table.

Another call to ignore. Another voicemail I won’t hear. The hollow ache in my chest flares to life, fueled by memories of Aksel’s voice. Of whispered promises and laughter that once filled these empty spaces.

My fingers curl into fists, nails biting into skin. Pain helps ground me in the present, a reminder of the path I’ve chosen. Of the shields I’ve erected to protect a heart too broken to risk again.

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