Chapter Twenty Three

Evening creeps in faster than I expect, the light outside the window fading from gold to gray. I can’t believe Travis and I have been locked in this room for hours without exchanging a single real word—or even trying to fix anything. He keeps giggling at whatever he’s watching on his phone, completely unbothered.

I roll my eyes and scroll through I*******m in silence. For all I care, we could end up sleeping in here. People do that—go from best friends to total strangers. Or worse. Enemies.

Travis suddenly stands and walks over to the window. I glance up, brow lifting. If he’s actually thinking of jumping, he’s out of his mind. This isn’t a movie.

He comes back to the bed, and I go back to ignoring him. It’s easy enough—pretend he doesn’t exist. Until he starts pacing.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

I clench my jaw, biting down my irritation until I can’t anymore.

“Can you be quiet?” I snap. “You’re not the only person in here.”

He stops and looks around exaggeratedly. “Did something just talk?”

I scoff, turning my gaze back to my phone.

Yeah. Definitely enemies now.

“You know what,” I say, climbing off the bed, irritation finally spilling over, “if you stop acting like less of a coward and more like an actual human being, maybe we could actually talk.”

He straightens, eyes narrowing. He really thinks he can talk down to me just because he knows Mom wants us to magically be okay again.

“What happened wasn’t entirely my fault,” I continue, my voice sharp. “But you? You left. You packed up your life and never once looked back.”

“Never looked back?” he laughs bitterly. “I had to move away because of the embarrassment, Catherine. It was everywhere. People thought you rejected me because I had rashes on my butt.”

My mouth opens. “But I never said that—”

“But you never denied it either,” he snaps.

The words hit harder than I expect, knocking the breath out of me. I freeze, everything I was about to say collapsing in my throat.

He’s right.

I didn’t say it.

But I didn’t stop it either.

I can’t even remember all the details anymore. I just remember our friends crowding around me, laughing, and me thinking it was nothing—just another stupid joke that would die down on its own.

“I didn’t know you were that hurt over it,” I admit quietly.

Years have passed, yet the guilt hits me now in the hardest possible way. I was selfish with my best friend. I felt wronged, yes—but I never tried to fix anything. I just let time do what it does best: destroy things silently. Travis sits on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, staring at nothing. If we were still close, we’d be fighting over what show to watch or arguing about who had to run errands for the other.

“Is it too late to apologize?” I whisper.

I don’t know what I’m expecting—him brushing it off, or waiting us out until Mom finally unlocks the door. My voice shakes as I keep going anyway.

“Back then, I never knew things would blow up like that. I’m sorry. I should have stood up for you, but I didn’t. I stayed quiet, and it cost you so much, Travis. It was easier to believe you left because of your parents’ divorce than to admit I failed you. That was stupid of me.”

He finally looks up. His eyes are red, glassy, tears barely held back.

“I’ve missed you so much, Cat,” he says, his voice breaking.

“I’ve missed you too,” I whisper.

I don’t know who moves first. One second we’re standing apart, drowning in years of unspoken regret, and the next we’re colliding—arms wrapping around each other, holding on tight, crying like we’re twelve again and nothing else in the world matters.

It’s funny how, in less than an hour, we unravel five whole years—laughing over stupid memories, choking up over the ones that still sting. Time folds in on itself, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like we ever stopped being us.

Travis is still exactly how I remember him. Effortlessly cool. Cracking the most ridiculous jokes.

“I really missed you,” I confessed.

“I know,” he adds with a grin. “But sadly, I’ve been replaced.”

I roll my eyes and poke his forehead. “I would never replace you.”

He chuckles, clearly unconvinced. “Right.”

The silence that settles after that is easy. Comfortable. The kind that doesn’t beg to be filled. I don’t even realize I’ve drifted off until a gentle tap lands on my shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

I squint, adjusting to the light. “Your mom and dad stepped out to see the lake. The door’s unlocked now.”

“Really?” I ask, my voice still thick with sleep.

He nods, already standing. “Yeah. Come on—let’s go find something to eat. I’m starving.”

I smile as I push myself up, following him out. For the first time in a long while, things don’t feel heavy.

We make it to the kitchen and, thankfully, it’s stocked. Fully stocked. The kind of stocked that gives you false confidence—like you might actually pull off a meal without poisoning anyone.

All that’s left is figuring out how to turn raw ingredients into something humans can eat. Because if there’s one thing I’m exceptionally bad at—apart from school—it’s cooking.

Travis, on the other hand, moves around the kitchen like he belongs there, whistling under his breath as he reaches for pots and pans. Effortless. Familiar. It tugs at something in my chest.

My thoughts drift, traitorous as ever.

I should have texted Dominic before leaving.

The thought settles heavy. Uncomfortable.

Did he stay the rest of the night with Sasha? The one who didn’t leave.

Did they kiss after the concert?

My chest tightens at the image, sharp and uninvited. I hate how easily my mind goes there. I hate that I’m scared—scared of things getting messy, scared that in trying to keep everything together, I’ll end up losing both of them. Alice. Dominic.

“What are you making?” I ask, mostly to distract myself, as Travis clinks a pot onto the stove.

He glances back. “Just pasta,” he mutters. “It’s literally the only thing I can make.”

I nod, leaning against the counter, watching him pull out ingredients. But my eyes betray me—his broad frame keeps blurring into Dominic’s in my head.

Same angle. Same movement. Different feelings.

I exhale slowly.

God. I really am a mess.

I try to focus, watching Travis move around the kitchen, measuring, stirring, humming under his breath—but my mind refuses to cooperate.

“I’m coming,” I mutter suddenly.

Before he can ask what I mean, I slip out of the kitchen and step outside, dialing Alice again. I just need to hear her voice. Just to know Dominic is okay.

The phone rings. And rings. Then goes straight to voicemail.

I tell myself not to panic. Maybe she left her phone in her room. Maybe she fell asleep. Something simple. Something normal.

But minutes stretch into an hour, and the silence starts to feel heavy. Tight. Suffocating.

“Hey,” Travis says gently behind me. “You’ve been standing out here a while.”

He drapes a shirt over my shoulders without thinking. I pull it closer around myself, more for comfort than warmth.

“I’m trying to reach someone,” I admit. “They’re not picking up, and it’s… making me nervous.”

He studies my face, not teasing this time. “Your boyfriend?”

I let out a tired groan. “I don’t have a boyfriend anymore.”

“Then who?”

“Alice,” I say quickly.

He hums, unconvinced. “Alice… or her brother.”

I glare at him. That one’s on me. I told him too much earlier.

Before I can snap back, my phone lights up in my hand.

Alice.

I answer immediately. “Hey, babe.”

“Catherine,” she says, her voice breaking. “I can’t find my brother.”

The shirt slips tighter around my shoulders as my stomach drops.