5. A New Beginning That Hurt to Breathe

Lena’s POV

The plane touches down harder than I expect and my stomach flips, not from the landing but from the fact that this is real. Los Angeles is behind me now really behind me. Not just for a night and not just to cool off.

Gone.

I don’t look out the window right away I’m too scared that if I do I’ll panic and want to run back even though there’s nothing left there to run back to.

Keenan nudges my arm. “Hey. We made it.”

I nod even though my throat feels tight and my chest feels heavy almost like everything inside me shifted and hasn’t settled yet. My bag feels heavier than it should when I stand up maybe it’s not the bag.

The airport is small and quiet. There wasnt popl who was in a rush. No noise that feels familiar. People move slower here, like no one’s chasing anything. That alone makes me feel out of place.

On the drive I keep staring out the window. Trees everywhere. Not the sad kind stuck between highways, but thick ones that block everything behind them. The air smells different when Keenan opens the window. Clean. A little salty. I didn’t know air could smell like that.

“This town doesn’t even feel real,” I say quietly.

“That’s because nobody important comes here,” he answers. “Which is exactly why it’s perfect.”

Perfect isn’t the word I would use, but I didn't argue.

The house is farther out than I thought it would be. Not isolated, but not close either. Almost as if it chose distance on purpose. White paint that’s chipped in places. Wooden steps that creak when Keenan walks up them. No lights inside.

Empty.

He unlocks the door and pushes it open and the silence hits me straight in my face. It’s not peaceful. Not yet. It’s the kind of quiet that makes your own thoughts too loud.

“This is it,” he says. “My parents’ place. No one’s here and no one is coming.”

I drop my bag just inside the door and suddenly my legs don’t work anymore. I slide down onto the floor and the crying comes out of nowhere, ugly and loud and embarrassing. I don’t even try to stop it.

Keenan drops down with me right away, pulling me into him like he’s done a hundred times before, like he already knows how bad it is without me saying a word.

“I don’t get it,” I sob into his shoulder. “I don’t get how he could talk to me like that like I was nothing as if I tricked him.”

“I know,” Keenan says, his voice rough. “I know.”

“I loved him,” I choke out. “I loved him since I was a kid.”

“I know,” he repeats, and this time his voice shakes too.

I cry until my head hurts and my chest burns and my body feels empty. It’s the kind of crying that doesn’t leave anything behind and just drains you. Keenan stays right there, rubbing my back, swearing softly under his breath every time I hiccup.

When it finally slows, he pulls back and looks at my face. “You look like shit.”

I let out a broken laugh. “You should see my life.”

He snorts. “Still dramatic that’s good it means you’re still you.”

We stand up slowly and he shows me around. Two bedrooms. A bathroom that smells like old soap. A kitchen that looks like it hasn’t been used in forever. Furniture covered with sheets. Windows that show trees and, if you look hard enough, water in the distance.

“My parents barely come here,” he says. “They won’t be back anytime soon.”

I nod, sitting on the edge of the bed in the room he gives me. The mattress feels strange. Too soft and too quiet.

He leans against the door. “Did you call them?”

I don’t need to ask who he means.

I shake my head. “No. I can’t yet.”

“That’s okay,” he says quickly. “They’ll understand.”

“I know,” I whisper. “That’s why I can’t do it.”

He doesn’t push he never does and that is what I like about him.

Later, we eat takeout on the floor because neither of us feels like unpacking. It feels weird, sitting there like this, like I didn’t just lose my entire life a few hours ago.

“Did you call Maya,” he asks.

I swallow. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“She told me I deserved it. Then she blocked me.”

His face hardens. “I always knew she was trash.”

“I didn’t,” I say quietly. “I thought she loved me.”

“Some people only love what they want,” he says.

Night comes fast here not like the city glows. Just dark and the sound of wind and something moving outside that makes me jump until Keenan laughs and tells me it’s just an animal.

When I finally lie down, the quiet feels heavy. My phone sits on the table, useless without a SIM card. No messages and no way for anyone to reach me.

I think about Ethan’s parents. About how they took me in. About how they called me their daughter before I was anything else.

“I can’t face you yet,” I whisper into the dark. “I don’t know how to explain what your son did to me.”

The house creaks softly, like it’s breathing.

I don’t know how long I lie there. Long enough to realize something.

I’m still alive.

I’m still here.

And even though everything hurts and nothing makes sense, I got out.

That has to count for something.