Chapter 4

Dawn’s Point of View

I have cried. I have stared at the ceiling. I have told myself repeatedly that I need to go to class, and eventually I listen, forcing myself up and into the bathroom to put on enough makeup to bury the evidence under my eyes.

Damian tried yesterday. He stayed outside my door for an hour before he finally gave up. I could not open it. I cannot look at him right now without seeing everything he chose, and everything that choice says about how little I meant.

He dated the girl who made my life hell. The girl who is the reason I cannot look at myself without flinching.

I do not use the mirror. Whatever makeup ends up on my face is applied entirely from memory and instinct.

I am dreading today. They will both be there, and I have no choice but to walk into the same room and act like I am fine.

But I still do it. I get to school from my dorm, and once I push the car into park, my eyes dart around, making sure I don’t see him.

I make my way out and am already heading to Business Ethics class when I see Damian already crossing towards me.

“Dawn, wait!” he calls.

I push my AirPods in and keep walking, ignoring him.

He shouts after me. I make it almost to the corner before he grabs my arm and pulls me back.

“Let go of me, Damian,” I say it quietly, which is somehow worse than shouting. He goes still, eyes moving carefully across my face. He knows what the heavy makeup means. He has always known.

“Did you...”

“No. Don’t ask me that.”

“Should I call Dr. Kohl? Did you—”

“Damian, stop.” I pull my arm back. “It doesn’t matter what I did or didn’t do. You made your choice. That’s what matters.”

I try to step around him. He moves with me, stopping me before I can get away.

“I care about you. You’re my best friend.”

“Ex-best friend,” I correct,

He has the nerve to look wounded. He did this. He made this, and he is standing here looking at me like I am the one causing damage.

“Please, Dawny.” His voice drops. “Just let me explain. Please.”

He reaches for my hand. I glance past him at the lecture hall. I am already cutting it close, and Professor Fraser marks me absent with zero sympathy.

“I will see you after class,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady even though I want to scream. “I’m going to be late.”

“I’ll wait for you by the ice rink,” he says quickly. “Okay?”

I nod once and walk away before he can say anything else.

When I slip into the lecture hall, Professor Fraser looks up from his watch. I hold my breath.

I am not late, barely, and he says nothing. I make my way to my seat, head down. No one sits near me anymore. Bree made sure of that a long time ago.

As I pass, I hear her say something under her breath. One word, then another. I do not give her the satisfaction of reacting.

I reach my seat and stop. The chair is wet.

I close my eyes for a moment. When I open them, there is a sticker on the desk, a crude drawing paired with my face. I peel it off and use it to blot the seat dry. It’s still wet, so I take off my hoodie and put it there before I sit down, open my notebook, and stare at the front of the room.

I try to focus. I mostly fail because all I keep thinking about is what happened. He chose her.

The second class ends; I am out of my seat and through the door. I check my phone. Damian has texted twice, asking if I am still coming. He is relentless when he wants something, and I know from experience that he will not stop until I hear him out. So, I go.

When I get to the ice rink, he is already there, holding a coffee and a box from my favorite doughnut place. He thinks this is fixable. Normally, with those two things and enough time, it would be. But he is sleeping with the enemy, and no amount of glazed doughnuts changes that.

“Hey. I got you this,” he says, holding out the box with a smile.

I keep my arms crossed. “You wanted to talk?”

“Dawny.” He hesitates. “Happy birthday?”

He says it like a question, like even he knows how wrong the timing is. Because this should be the happiest day of my life, where he fulfilled his promise.

“Just say what you need to say. I have practice.”

He nods. Takes a breath. “I’m sorry, Dawny. I really am.”

“How long have you been with her?” I ask, cutting straight to it. I don’t like wasting time.

“Since Christmas. We started seeing each other then.”

“Christmas.” I let that settle. That is more than three months. “And New Year’s Day?”

“We...” He stops.

“That was the day you told me you were busy studying, Damian. You stood me up.”

“I know. I didn’t know how to—”

I catch movement over his shoulder and go quiet. Bree is walking towards us, smiling, holding an identical box from the same doughnut place.

Something small and stupid twists in my chest.

“What is she doing here?” I ask. “And why does she have that box?”

“I wanted her to try them. Dawny, just—”

“How could you?” My voice comes out low. I know it is not the most important thing on the list of things he has done wrong. But that place was mine. It was the one corner of this town where I never had to think about her, and now he has handed it over without a second thought.

“Dawny, I’m sorry, but Bree—”

“Stop being such a bitch, Dawn. He’s with me now,” she says, stopping beside him.

I wait for him to say something. To correct her, push back, anything. He looks at the ground.

“I bet you wish it was you instead of me,” she continues. “He told me about your little arrangement. A bit sad, don’t you think?”

I turn to Damian. “You told her?”

“She wanted to know, and I—”

It feels like a knife in my chest and twists. First, Killian knew. Now Bree. That promise was the most private thing I had, and he handed it to the one person in the world who would use it as a weapon.