Tom's POV
Her hands trembled as she wiped at her tears, and I could see the raw frustration in her eyes. "I tried Instagram, but you deleted all your accounts. I tried to reach you, Tom, but got nothing back. And then… I just assumed you didn't want to talk to me. I thought… I thought you'd moved on."
Each word hit like a punch. I wanted to scream at her for leaving, for the years of silence, but a small, helpless part of me wanted to believe her, wanted to understand. And fuck it, I didn't know what to feel anymore—hurt, anger, relief, betrayal—all tangled together like a mess I couldn't sort.
Her voice dropped to a whisper, like she was afraid the words themselves might break if she pushed them any harder. "I tried to stay," she said, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. "But I was a fucking kid, Tom. I was trying to reason with adults who had already made up their minds."
I stayed silent, staring at the floor, my chest tight, heart pounding like it wanted out.
"I came back because my dad got the opportunity to work back here," she continued, blinking rapidly as tears pooled in her eyes. "And I came back for you. I missed you. I missed you so fucking much." Her voice wavered. "I was so excited to see my best friend again, but I didn't expect him to… to not want anything to do with me."
That shit hit hard. Harder than I was ready for.
"Tom, I'm sorry," she added softly, like a final plea, like she had nothing left to give.
And fuck—I broke.
Before I could stop myself, I pulled her into a hug, my arm wrapping around her waist, holding her there like if I let go she'd disappear again. She froze for half a second, then melted into me, her arms sliding up around my neck, clinging like she was afraid the ground might give out beneath her.
I felt her tears soak into my neck as she buried her face there, quiet sobs shaking her body. My throat burned, my eyes stung like hell, and I clenched my jaw, fighting back my own tears because if I let them loose, I knew I wouldn't fucking stop.
For the first time in years, she was right there.
And for the first time in years… I didn't feel completely alone.
After a few minutes, we pulled apart, and the second the contact broke, the air between us shifted. It went stiff. Heavy. Awkward as fuck. Like we'd just crossed some invisible line and neither of us fucking knew how to step back over it without tripping.
She wiped at her cheeks quickly, like she didn't want me to see how hard she'd been crying, and I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly very aware of how close we still were. My heart was still pounding, my chest tight, emotions all over the damn place.
My best fucking friend was standing in front of me again.The girl I lost in eighth grade.The one-shaped hole I'd learned to live with for four fucking years.
"Tommy," she said softly, and I flinched just a little but didn't correct her this time. "I'm starting at Millwood High again. I want to finish my senior year with you."
She smiled then—small but proud, hopeful in that terrifying way that makes you feel like one wrong move could crush everything and bring it hurtling toward the ground. I didn't trust my voice, so I just nodded, swallowing hard, my throat tight as hell.
Yeah. She was really back. Not just for a visit. Not just a minute. Back-back.
With that, she stood up, smoothing down her skirt, suddenly looking like she wasn't my past anymore but something dangerously close to my present. She walked toward the door, then paused, turning back to look at me.
"I hope we're okay for Sunday brunch," she said, a faint, cautious smile tugging at her lips.
I didn't answer—couldn't. I just watched her walk out, the door clicking shut behind her.
And just like that, my life cracked open again. Fuck