Prolog end: Trauma Bonds

The breeze tugged at the hem of Aria’s oversized sweatshirt as she sat curled beneath the old maple behind the school. Red leaves drifted down around her like quiet confessions, catching in her tangled curls and sticking to her damp cheeks.

She didn’t want to be seen like this. Red-eyed. Sniffling. Hollowed out.

Her mother was gone.

Her father was a shell.

And Jamison… he was trying. God, he was trying.

But it didn’t feel like enough.

“You know this spot’s kinda mine,” came a voice she hadn’t expected.

Mason Dorsey stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his worn jean jacket, head tilted with a cocky little grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not today.

Aria blinked up at him, brushing a sleeve across her nose. “I didn’t see your name on it.”

His smile tugged higher. “Fair enough.”

He stepped closer, crouched a few feet away, and reached into his pocket. “You look like you could use this more than I do.”

She looked down. A miniature Snickers bar.

“…Seriously?”

“I’m a man of great emotional depth and candy,” he said, holding it out like a peace offering. “Don’t question the process.”

A dry laugh slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

She took it.

Mason didn’t push her to talk. Didn’t ask what was wrong. He just stood up after a minute, ruffled her hair with one hand, and muttered, “You’re stronger than you look, Simmons,” before heading off like he hadn’t just cracked her grief in half with a single act of kindness.

She watched him go, her fingers curled around the tiny chocolate bar like it was sacred

** It started with candy. And silence. And space.

Mason never pried. Never demanded. He just showed up. With a drink. A snack. A stupid joke. A steady presence when everything else felt like it was crumbling.

He became her light in the darkest hour—

And that’s how shadows always start: soft at the edges, warm enough to mistake for something safe.**

From then on, he found her in the halls. Walked her to class. Let her copy his notes. Sat with her at lunch when everyone else started whispering about her mom leaving.

When Aria wasn’t with Jamison, she was with Mason. They even worked on assignments together—her handwriting neater than his, her jokes softer, but they made a good team.

Kade noticed.

He’d seen her through the windows once, head bent close to Mason’s at lunch, laughing at something he said.

He didn’t say a word.

But the next week, he cornered Jamison behind the bleachers after football practice.

“Didn’t think you and I were talking again,” Jamison muttered.

“I don’t care about us,” Kade said, voice sharp. “What the hell is your sister doing with him?”

Jamison looked at him. Really looked at him. “Trying not to drown.”

Kade said nothing. Just clenched his jaw, nodded once, and walked off—like he was filing the moment away for a storm yet to come.

High school hit Aria like spring.

Her body, once soft and narrow, bloomed into curves she didn’t know what to do with. Her hair got longer, darker, wild from all the nights she’d fallen asleep with it wet. Her eyes lost the glassy haze of grief, sharp now with wit, spark, and something almost dangerous—hope.

Boys noticed.

Everywhere she walked, heads turned. Locker doors paused mid-slam. Footballs hit the ground mid-pass. She’d laugh it off—bashful, flustered—but Mason always had a way of appearing just as her smile got too wide.

“She’s not interested,” he’d say to the boys near her locker, arm slung casually over her shoulders. “Got better taste than that.”

It was always a joke. A wink. A teasing murmur in her ear.

But the boys stopped trying.

And Aria never knew why.

⸻

Kade knew.

He heard it in the locker room one day after practice—two juniors complaining under their breath.

“Dorsey made it clear. Simmons is off limits.”

“He didn’t even ask her out, man.”

“Doesn’t matter. Said she’s his. End of story.”

Kade’s jaw clenched so hard he nearly cracked a molar.

⸻

Narration

Mason was everywhere.

At her locker with her favorite drink. At her classes with copies of his notes. Texting her good morning. Texting her goodnight. Complimenting her hair, her clothes, her smile—but always with a slight edge.

“You look cute today, babe. Surprised you left the house in that shirt though—trying to kill someone?”

Or:

“I swear you’d lose your head if I wasn’t around to keep you focused.”

It never felt cruel.

Not at first.

It felt like care. Possessiveness. Protection.

Love.

Aria was floating—high on attention and late-night phone calls. He talked about college plans, maybe moving to the city together. She started sketching last names in the margins of her notebooks, wondering how Simmons-Dorsey would sound.

He made her feel chosen. Wanted.

And when Mason finally asked her out—under the bleachers after school with a smirk and a stolen kiss—she said yes like it was always meant to be.

Time had a sick sense of humor.

He watched from a distance—always from a distance—as Aria Simmons went from broken and bruised to soft and glowing, finding something that looked like peace in the arms of Mason fucking Dorsey.

It started with hallway smiles. Then shared lunches. Then that bastard’s hand on the small of her back like he fucking owned her.

Kade said nothing.

What the hell could he say? “Hey, sorry I disappeared after my world burned down, but maybe don’t fall for a wolf in Sunday clothes?”

He saw it in Mason’s eyes. The gleam of someone who liked to own things—shine them up, show them off, and break them down when they got too bright.

And Aria? Sweet, loyal, stubborn Aria—she looked at Mason like he was salvation. Like he’d saved her.

That used to be him.

He saw it in the way her laugh changed—still warm, still rich, but a little more cautious. Heard it when she spoke in class, second-guessing herself just enough to piss him off. Caught it when Mason leaned in too close, whispered something that made her shrink instead of stand tall.

But every time Kade thought about saying something, doing something—he remembered the way she stopped looking at him. The way her eyes slid right past him like he was nothing more than a ghost in boots and flannel.

Maybe he was.

Maybe he deserved that.

So he watched. From the bleachers. From the truck. From the aisle over at the goddamn store.

Watched her become someone else.

Someone his heart still wanted—but someone he’d lost.

The scent of hay and old pine clung to the rafters as the wind howled low outside the Calloway barn. A single lightbulb buzzed overhead, casting a dull yellow glow on the dust floating in the air. Kade leaned against the workbench, a bottle of bourbon dangling from his fingers, nearly empty. He hadn’t planned to drink tonight. But hell—he hadn’t planned on a lot of things.

The photo sat crooked under a magnet on the mini fridge nearby. Faded but not forgotten. Aria’s grin wild and gap-toothed. Jamison’s arm slung over Kade’s shoulder. All three of them covered in dirt and laughing after chasing the neighbor’s rogue goat through the creek.

Before the death. Before the silence. Before Mason fucking Dorsey.

Kade’s jaw clenched as he yanked the photo down. He held it for a beat, thumb brushing over her face, still the same goddamn girl and yet not at all.

“She used to smile like that for me,” he muttered, voice like gravel, then tore his gaze away and shoved the photo in his back pocket.

The bourbon burned all the way down.