Page 32 of F*ckboys

"Fallon, please talk to me," I pled back then, trying to bridge the chasm that had grown between us. But she refused, her pain palpable as she turned away, seeking solace in the company of others who would only bring her more harm.

I can't shake the feeling that I somehow drove her into the arms of danger. The rumors of promiscuity with unfavorable people and drug use circulated like wildfire, and though she never confirmed the details, I sensed the truth in her haunted eyes. The guilt is still a heavy burden, an unspoken reminder that my actions set her on this path.

"Fallon," I whisper to myself, her name tasting bittersweet on my lips. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

My heart clenches as I think about the fiery girl who captured my soul, and how my misguided attempts at gaining her attention only served to dim and risk permanently extinguishing her light. But I refuse to let this be the end of our story. My thoughts are a whirlwind of emotions—anger, regret, and most of all, love. I know I can't undo the past, but I can fight for a future where we find justice for the pain we've endured. If there's one thing I know for certain, it's that Fallon deserves justice—I don't know exactly what that looks like yet, but I won't rest until she gets it.

Years later, I can't shake the ghost of what we had and how it was destroyed. The memory haunts me, a persistent specter that refuses to fade in the recesses of my mind. From afar, I follow Fallon's life—her successes, her triumphs, her heartaches—unable to let go of the lingering question: what if Carissa hadn't interfered?

"Fuck," I mutter, scrolling through yet another article about Fallon's latest achievements. My hands tremble with barely suppressed rage, frustration gnawing at my insides like a relentless parasite. A part of me is proud of her accomplishments, but another part burns with the knowledge that I should have been there to witness it all.

Chapter 15

Fallon

The golden chandelier casts shadows on the intricately patterned wallpaper, and as usual I feel dwarfed by the sheer opulence of my father's formal dining room. I can never quite bring myself to refer to it as also being my stepmother's home, just my father's. This home is anything but a sanctuary for me, a stark reminder that no matter how far I've come and how much I've tried to distance myself, there are still undeniable ties to my past. My stomach clenches as I take a tentative sip from the crystal wine glass handed to me by a waiter on my arrival.

"Congratulations, Fallon," my father says, his voice somber yet laced with a hint of pride. The entire room goes quiet, as if everyone collectively held their breath. "You did an exceptional job at the charity gala. You should be proud."

"Thank you, Father," I respond, trying to keep my voice even as I sense watchful eyes on me. My stepmother gives me a tight-lipped smile, her makeup immaculate as always. Link, my brother, narrows his eyes, obviously unprepared for the rare praise our father has bestowed upon me. It doesn't happen very often, and even though I did what my father asked of me at the event, I wasn't expecting this.

"Another toast," my father announces, raising his glass. "To Fallon and her success helping us to advance the Eternity Development Project. Farelli has awarded us the contract in the amount we anticipated. In fact, we received even more favorable terms than we would have accepted." The clink of glasses fills the space in the silence, and I can't shake off the feeling that there's something more beneath these words of praise.

"Cheers," I say, forcing a smile, though my gratitude is genuine. But the weight of his expectations feels like a noose around my neck.

As the dinner progresses, I can see the envy simmering in Link's eyes. He can't resist the urge to poke at old wounds, to find cracks in my armor. "What a little social butterfly you've become, Fallon. Running around diamond-encrusted charity galas securing lucrative contracts for the family firm by batting your eyelashes at wealthy men. Hard to believe this is the same little sister who spent more time with her nose in a book than enjoying high school, isn't it?" he teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Times change, Link," I reply, keeping my voice steady. "And maybe all that studying paid off. Besides, what's wrong with studying, anyway?" I refuse to let him drag me back into the past, where vulnerability and insecurities reigned supreme. I also refuse to engage in the misogyny of his other comments.

"Speaking of the past," Link continues, ignoring my attempt to shut him down. "Remember your little crush on Aksel?"My heart skips a beat, and I can feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as memories of whispered rumors and stolen glances flood my mind. "I heard he's quite the successful businessman now. Must have been fun seeing your old high school sweetheart at the event. And wasn't Carissa meant to be there, too? That must have been exciting to have everyone in the same room after all these years." He grins, mischief in his eyes. "Nothing like a little drama to spice up a stuffy charity gala, right?"

"Link, that's enough," my oldest brother Cheston interjects, his voice sharp and disapproving. But the damage is done, and a storm brews beneath the surface of our seemingly perfect family dinner.

I clench my fists under the tablecloth, the anger threatening to spill over and ruin my carefully curated impenetrable persona that belies the more sensitive, real me that trembles just below the surface. There's no room for the pain of the past when so much is at stake, and Link always knows how to cut me right to the core. So I take another sip from my wine glass, swallowing the bitterness along with it, and vow not to let my brother's cruel words derail me.

The moment I step out of my father's opulent home, which I do as soon as I can excuse myself after dessert, the chill of the night air is a welcome reprieve from the stifling atmosphere that had filled the dining room. My hands tremble as I fumble for my keys, the weight of the evening's events pressing down on me like a tangible force. I slide into the driver's seat of my car, taking a deep breath to steady myself before starting the engine.

My fingers grip the steering wheel tight, knuckles turning white as I navigate the city streets. The kaleidoscope of lights reflecting off the buildings only serves to heighten the turmoilbrewing within me. The silence in the car is deafening, giving way to the whispers of memories I thought I'd long locked away. Images of Aksel and our tumultuous youth together flicker through my mind, pulling me back to a time when rumors and misunderstandings shaped the narrative of our lives.

"Dammit, Aksel, and fuck you, Link," I mutter under my breath. I try to get my mind off all of them by turning on the radio, but the first song that comes on takes me straight back to those years, ironically one Aksel and I used to listen to together, and I shut it off immediately. The solitude of the car becomes a canvas for me to revisit the heartbreak that lingers from high school, the pain of betrayal fueled by the echoes of past rumors.

I remember the whispered conversations in the hallways, the sideways glances exchanged between classmates as they gossiped about Aksel's involvement with other girls and the smear campaign he waged against me, and all the ways I was made to feel less than. Each story left a searing ache in my chest that still weighs heavy on my heart, and worst of all was Aksel's role in it all.

"Forget it, Fallon, focus on work," I tell myself, shaking my head in an effort to dispel the intrusive thoughts. "You're not that naïve girl anymore."

But as much as I try to push them away, the memories refuse to be silenced. The ghost of Aksel's touch on my skin, the sound of his laughter, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at me—all these things come rushing back, making it impossible to ignore the bitter sting of betrayal and the longing that has remained dormant all these years.

"Shit," I hiss, feeling the tears threaten to spill over. "He doesn't get to do this to me again just because he's back in town."

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the road ahead. The city lights blur together as I speed through the streets, the pressure in my chest building with each passing mile. In thiscocoon of conflicting emotions, I fight to hold onto the woman I've become—strong, determined, and fiercely loyal to the few who have earned my trust.

"Never again," I whisper, my voice barely audible above the hum of the engine. "I won't let him break me."

I contemplate pulling over and just letting all these emotions pour out of me like a torrential rainstorm. Would it be better to simply leave this life behind and start anew, far away from family expectations and the shadows of my past with Aksel?

But then I think about how many people I've helped through the course of my work, the countless hours spent building the company up from nothing. And most importantly, the unwavering loyalty of Grave and Mia, who have both been by my side through thick and thin. No, I can't abandon them—they're the reasons I keep going when everything else seems dire.

"Fuck," I exhale shakily, feeling the weight of my decision pressing down on my chest. "Fallon, you need to make a choice." My own voice startles me, echoing through the car as if it were an outsider's opinion.

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