Chapter Three — We Were Never Meant To Last

The apartment was too quiet.

I sat on the couch in the dark, with my knees pulled to my chest and my phone clutched in one hand even though I wasn’t calling anyone.

What would I even say?

Hi, I think the man I’ve been running from for four years is about to tear apart everything I’ve rebuilt.

Cruz knew.

Not everything, not yet.

But enough to make my chest feel like it was wired to a ticking bomb.

He said he wanted to see her.

He said he was coming for both of us.

And the worst part?

A part of me wanted to let him.

That part that still remembered how it all started, before everything fell apart.

Four and a half years ago.

I was twenty-one. Broke and pissed off at the world. Working late-night shifts at a gas station off Route 9 just to keep my tiny one-bedroom apartment.

I hated it there, because the floors were sticky, the lights flickered, and half the customers were either high or rude.

But one night… he walked in, wearing black boots, a leather jacket, tattoos creeping up his neck and a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

He didn’t look at me at first, he just grabbed a bottle of water and a pack of gum.

I didn’t even recognize him immediately.

He dropped the items on the counter and finally looked up.

That was the first time I saw his eyes. 

“You’re new,” he said.

I shrugged. “You’re not.”

He smiled a little. “Smart mouth.”

“Problem?”

“No,” he said. “I like smart mouths.”

My stomach flipped, that should’ve been the first red flag.

Instead, I rolled my eyes and said, “You want a receipt?”

“Nah,” he said, then paused. “Name?”

“Why?”

“Because I like to know the names of the women who give me attitude.”

I hesitated.

“Nova,” I said finally.

He nodded. “Cruz.”

Of course it was.

He walked out, boots echoing across the concrete.

I thought that was it.

But he came back the next night.

And the one after that.

He never bought much, sometimes just a lighter, sometimes a candy bar and sometimes nothing at all.

But he always talked to me.

Asked about my music, my tattoos, my messed-up family.

And I listened to him.

Listened to the way he spoke about his brother, Blade. About the club and the rules.

He never gave me too much.

But it was enough.

One night, he leaned across the counter and said, “You wanna go for a ride?”

I should’ve said no.

Instead, I asked, “How fast?”

He smirked. “Fast enough to forget this place exists.”

That night, I wrapped my arms around his waist and climbed on the back of his bike like I hadn’t spent my entire life being afraid of men like him.

We drove through back roads and open fields without a helmet or fear.

I felt alive and free.

We parked by an abandoned bridge and just sat there under the stars in silence.

“Have you ever thought about disappearing?” I asked him quietly.

“All the time.”

“Where would you go?”

He looked at me like I was the place.

“You.”

That was when I knew I was already gone.

I snapped back to the present when Lena walked into the living room holding two mugs of coffee.

“You didn’t sleep, did you?” she asked.

“No.”

She handed me the cup and sat beside me, curling her legs under her.

“Was it always this intense?” she asked gently.

“With him?”

I nodded.

“It was worse,” I whispered. “It was… magnetic, stupid and addictive.”

“You loved him.”

I shook my head, eyes stinging. “I think I still do.”

Lena didn’t say anything for a minute.

Then, “So what now?”

I stared at the window. The sky was just starting to turn orange.

“I think… I think he’s not going to stop until he sees her.”

“Do you want that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” she said. “You’re just scared.”

“Of him?”

“Of what he still makes you feel.”

I didn’t answer, because she was right.

And then the knock at the door made my heart stop.

I stood slowly, opened the door just a crack.

He was there.

Cruz.

“I said I’d be back.”

“I thought you meant later.”

“Later is now.”

Lena stood up behind me. “I’ll take her to the park.”

Cruz’s eyes flicked to her, then back to me. “Are you really gonna let her walk out with my kid and not say a word?”

Lena didn’t flinch. “She doesn’t even know who you are.”

He stepped inside.

I blocked the way. “Don’t. This isn’t your home.”

He leaned close. “Then take me to her, or I swear, Nova—”

“Stop threatening me,” I snapped. “She’s not a weapon, she’s just a little girl.”

“I want to see her.”

“She’s sleeping.”

“I’ll wait.”

The air between us turned to fire.

He wasn’t yelling or touching me, he was just there—looming, intense and determined.

God help me… I wanted to let him in.

“You’re not ready,” I whispered.

“She’s mine. I’ve missed four years, I don’t care if I’m ready.”

I looked at him and realized that there was something raw in his eyes. Something that cracked straight through the ice.

“I hate you,” I whispered.

His voice broke. “I never stopped loving you.”

I turned away fast, because if I didn’t, I was going either cry, kiss him or both.

Lena cleared her throat. “I’ll be at the park two blocks over.”

She walked out quietly, shutting the door gently behind her.

Now it was just me and Cruz alone, again.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I was scared,” I said.

“Of me?”

“Yes.”

He looked like I slapped him.

“I would’ve protected you.”

“You were drowning in blood and club politics. You were dangerous and I was carrying a child.”

“I deserved to know.”

“And I deserved to be safe,” I shot back.

We stood there, breathing hard.

“You still wear that ring?” he asked suddenly.

I froze.

My hand instinctively brushed over the chain around my neck, to the tiny silver ring that used to be his.

He stepped closer.

I didn’t move.

He gently pulled the chain from beneath my shirt.

Held the ring beneath his finger like it was something sacred.

“You kept it.”

“I couldn’t throw it away.”

He looked at me.

And something in his gaze turned molten.

“You still feel it too,” he said.

I opened my mouth to deny it.

But his hand was already on my jaw, with his thumb brushing my cheek.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t do this.”

“I have to.”

Then he kissed me.

Four years of silence, regret, and longing poured into that kiss.

I kissed him back.

For one stupid second, I let myself feel him again.

And then I pushed him away.

“This changes nothing,” I said, breathing hard.

“Wrong,” he said. “It changes everything.”