JAXSON
“I want to be alone.” Her voice was thin and sharp, a blade wrapped in tiredness.
I didn’t move. “I’m not leaving you,” I said, low. It came out steadier than I felt.
She screamed. “Leave! All of you.” And it pushed us all back. Cole touched my shoulder once, like he was anchoring me to the floor. Ryder’s voice was quiet, almost careful. “We should give her space.”
We left because she told us to. None of us wanted to. I heard the click of the handle and the muffled thud as the door shut. Her breathing on the other side of that wood sounded like someone falling apart.
We clustered by the coffee machine like men at a wake. Cole made the coffee, passed me a cup and it steamed, and I took it without tasting it. The mug warmed my palms and did nothing for the ice that had settled in
