Chapter 9

Jake

I roll over in bed, reaching for Lily's warmth, but my hand meets only cold sheets. My eyes snap open, heart lurching in my chest as I realize she's gone. Sitting up, I glance around the empty room, her clothes no longer scattered across the floor where we left them in our heated frenzy last night.

Did she regret what we did? Did I come on too strong, scare her away with the intensity of my feelings that have been building for so long? I grab my phone from the nightstand, fingers shaking slightly as I type out a message.

Hey, where'd you go? Everything okay?

I stare at the screen, each second that ticks by without a response twisting my stomach into tighter knots. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, her reply comes through.

I'm sorry, I just need some time and space to process everything. Last night was...a lot. I'll call you in a few days.

A few days. The words stare back at me, taunting. How am I supposed to endure days without seeing her, touching her, after everything we shared? I want to tell her I love her, that she's all I've ever wanted, fuck her into submission.

But I know my Lily. I have to give her the space she's asking for, no matter how much it tears me apart.

The following days are absolute torture. Every text I begin typing, I delete. Every time I pick up the phone to call her, I lose my nerve. I go through the motions—eat, sleep, work out—but she consumes my every thought. The ghost of her scent lingers on my pillows. Memories of her body pressed against mine, her soft sighs and breathless moans, play on repeat in my mind.

I see her everywhere—in the cafe where we used to grab coffee, walking past the bookstore she loves to browse, in the park where we would picnic together in high school. But she's never actually there. It's like she's vanished from my life completely, leaving a gaping hole in her wake.

By the third day, I'm a wreck, pacing my apartment like a caged animal. I alternate between anger—at myself for risking our friendship, at her for running—and despair that I've lost her for good. She's embedded herself so deeply in my heart over the years, I don't know how to untangle her, to imagine a future without her by my side.

My phone buzzes and I practically lunge for it, praying it's her. But it's just my mom, checking in. I toss the phone aside in frustration, collapsing back onto the couch.

"Fuck," I mutter, dragging a hand down my face.

I'm in turmoil, caught between giving Lily the distance she needs and the overwhelming urge to show up at her door, drop to my knees, and beg her not to shut me out. I've never felt so powerless, so unmoored.

Still more days crawl by with no word from Lily. Each morning I wake with a jolt, grabbing for my phone, only to find silence. The disappointment is a constant ache in my chest, growing sharper with every day with no word.

I throw myself into work, punishing runs, anything to keep my mind off her. But she's always there, haunting my thoughts. The softness of her skin, the raw vulnerability in her eyes that night—it consumes me.

Doubt begins to fester, seeping into the cracks of my mind. What if I pushed too hard, moved too fast? What if I've lost her for good?

The fear that goes through me at the thought is paralyzing.

Late one sleepless night, whiskey burning in my veins, I break. My fingers tremble as I type out the words I swore I'd never say.

I'm sorry, Lil. I never meant to put this on you, to risk what we have. Just tell me we're going to be okay. That I haven't lost you. I'll try to go back to being just friends if that's what you want, but I can't lose you.

I stare at the screen until the letters blur, thumb hovering over send.

I can't send it.

Every instinct screams to fix this, to fight for her. But I can't be that selfish. Slowly, I delete the text, each press of my finger an agony.

I hurl my glass against the wall, watching it shatter. The anger drains out of me in a rush, leaving me hollow. Defeated, I slump back on the couch, head in my hands.

Loving her is the easiest thing I've ever done. But if I've ruined us because I couldn't keep that love locked away... that's a guilt I'll carry forever. All I can do is hope that fifteen years of friendship is stronger than one night of passion. Strong enough to bring her back to me, in whatever way she's able to be in my life.

Anything's better than losing her completely.