Page 55 of F*ckboys

"Trying to do what, exactly?" My voice drips with sarcasm as I cross my arms over my chest. "Win me back with some cheap theatrics? Next thing he'll be sending me a heart-shaped box ofchocolates or lifting a boombox up outside my room playing 'In Your Eyes'. Sorry, but I'm not interested."

"Fallon, please," Mia pleads, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Just give him a chance to explain himself. Maybe he really has changed. You'll never know unless you talk to him."

"Enough, Mia!" I slam my hand down on the desk, making her jump. "This is none of your business! Keep your nose out of my relationship with Aksel! You hardly even know the guy, and you're acting really weird about him. If you like him so much, maybeyoushould date him!"

Her face crumples, hurt flashing in her eyes. I immediately regret my harsh words, but my pride won't let me apologize. Instead, I force myself to hold her gaze, daring her to challenge me further.

"Fine," she whispers, her voice wavering. "I'll stay out of it. But just remember, Fallon—you're the one who's choosing to shut people out. And when you're left all alone, don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, she turns on her heel and marches out of my office, leaving me to stew in my own bitterness. My hands tremble with a mix of anger and guilt as I try to focus back on my work, but the words on the pages blur together as my thoughts consume me.

Maybe Mia's right. Maybe I am pushing people away. My family. Aksel. Mia herself. But can I truly afford to trust Aksel again? To let him back into my heart, only for him to tear it apart once more? I don't know that I could physically or mentally withstand it.

My grip tightens around the pen in my hand, the plastic creaking under the pressure. No. I won't give Aksel that power over me again. He had his chance, and he blew it. And now, it's time for me to focus on what really matters—my job and my quest for justice.

No matter how lonely it is. And no matter how much it hurts.

Chapter 28

Aksel

"Fuck this," I mutter under my breath, tossing my phone onto the bed after another failed attempt to reach Fallon. The screen taunts me with its unyielding display:"User is unavailable"—a cold reminder that she still has me blocked.

My chest feels tight, like an invisible hand is crushing my heart with every beat. It's not just the frustration eating away at me, but also the crippling uncertainty of whether she'll ever speak to me again. The weight of her absence drapes over me, a constant shroud of shadows that follows me everywhere.

"Come on, Fallon... just give me a chance," I whisper to myself, raking my fingers through my hair. "This can't be it for us." Thedesperate plea echoes in the empty room, mocking me with the silence that follows.

I pace back and forth, my mind racing as I try to sort through the tangled mess of emotions. Anger, sadness, regret—they all mingle together like some twisted symphony playing on repeat. But what stands out the most is the fear. The fear of losing her forever.

"Maybe if I try calling from a different number..." My voice trails off as I consider the possibility. But even as I think it, I know it's a futile gesture. She'd recognize my voice immediately and likely hang up without a word. It would make me seem like some type of catfish, or a stalker. Besides, I don't want to resort to deceit. I could show up at her condo again, but that feels intrusive given she's made it clear she doesn't want to talk to me. And I don't want to get in the middle of her and her work. That feels like it would be crossing a line. I could wait for her in the parking lot, perhaps. But that seems kind of stalkerish too.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. The emotions she evokes in me are unparalleled—a potent mixture of lust, admiration, and something deeper, more profound. I clench my fists, feeling the rage boiling inside me at the thought of losing her forever.

"Is this really it?" I ask aloud, desperate for answers I know I won't find. "Have I lost her for good?"

The question hangs heavy in the air, unanswered, leaving me with an overwhelming sense of emptiness. The silence is deafening, mocking me as I struggle to come to terms with the possibility of never hearing her voice again.

The room seems to close in on me, suffocating me with memories of our time together. My heart races as I replay the moments we shared—her gentle touch, her intoxicating scent, and the fire behind those fierce green eyes that seem to see right through me, exposing every vulnerability I possess. I can't help but be drawn to the memory of our first heated kiss, a momentthat sparked a wildfire of desire within me. All of that was a long time ago, but our more recent times together had given me a renewed sense of hope that reconciliation was a real possibility.

"Fallon," I sigh, her name escaping my lips like a desperate plea. The longing for her threatens to consume me.

"Get your shit together, Aksel," I whisper to myself, wiping my face roughly with my hands. "You're not giving up on her that easily."

My resolve hardens as I stand up, pacing the room once again. This isn't over—not by a long shot. Fallon Dempsey might be stubborn and unyielding, but she's met her match in me. If I have any say, I won't let our story end like this.

But for now, all I'm left with is the deafening silence of blocked calls and the torturous uncertainty of whether our story really has come to its bitter end.

My hand reaches for the drawer beside my bed, retrieving a picture we took together during one of our happier moments long ago. We were laughing, her head thrown back in pure joy and her arm wrapped around my waist. It's a memory that feels so distant now, like a cruel reminder of what I've lost.

My eyes trace the outline of her body pressed against mine in the picture. Her warmth, her scent, and the taste of her lips consumes me. I'm torn between wanting to rip up the photo and hold onto it with every fiber of my being.

"Is this all I have left of you?" I ask the version of Fallon that exists only in the frame. There's no answer, of course, just the unending silence that has filled the void she left behind.

"Damn you, Fallon," I whisper, my voice cracking slightly. My heart races, and I can feel sweat beading on my brow. The intensity of my desire for her is overwhelming, consuming me like a wildfire.

My fingers tighten around the edges of the photograph as my free hand drifts down my body, seeking some form of release from the torment. I remember how her hands used to feel on my skin—gentle, yet demanding, driving me wild with desire.

"Damn it, Fallon," I growl, frustration boiling over as I give in to the carnal impulse. My hand moves rapidly, each stroke feeding off the memories of our shared passion. The sound of her moans echoes through my mind, fueling my desperation for even a fleeting taste of what we once had.

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