The morning after the bonfire felt wrong.
Too quiet. Too bright. Like the town was holding its breath.
Cassian was still asleep when I slipped out of bed. One arm flung across my side, possessive without meaning to be. Warm. Comfortable. Dangerous in how easy it felt.
I stood by the window, watching the ocean pretend nothing had happened.
Last night had changed the shape of things. I could feel it in my bones. In the way my phone stayed too still. In the way I already missed something I hadn't lost yet.
Cassian stirred. "You're thinking too loud."
I smiled faintly. "You make it sound like a crime."
"Only when it's about leaving."
I turned. He was watching me now. Awake. Unguarded in a way he rarely allowed.
"I'm not leaving," I said.
"Today," he replied.
That landed harder than it should have.
He sat up, elbows on his knees. "You don't run," he said. "But you don't stay either."
I crossed my arms, suddenly exposed. "You make it sound calculated."
"I think it's survival," he said gently. "And I respect it. I just need to know where I stand."
There it was.
Not jealousy.
Not challenge.
A question.
"I don't know yet," I admitted.
Cassian nodded slowly. "Okay."
No argument. No pressure.
That somehow hurt more.
When I left his place an hour later, the town felt different. People didn't look away anymore. They watched openly now, curiosity sharpened by judgment.
I didn't care.
Until I saw Jude.
He was standing by my car, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed somewhere past me like he'd been there a while.
I stopped short.
"You shouldn't be here," I said.
"You shouldn't pretend you didn't know I'd come."
Fair.
He turned then, really looked at me. Not angry. Not accusing.
Tired.
"You made it public," he said. "So now I don't get to protect what I feel in private."
My chest tightened. "That wasn't my intention."
"I know," he replied. "That's the problem."
We stood there, the air heavy with everything unsaid.
"I don't want to lose you again," he said quietly. "But I can't be an option you visit when you feel nostalgic."
The words cut because they were true.
"I'm not asking you to wait," I said. "And I'm not asking you to leave."
Jude laughed softly. "That's worse."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "If you keep doing this, you're going to break something."
I met his gaze. "I already did."
He searched my face, like he was memorizing it for later.
"Just don't lie to me," he said. "About what you feel."
When he walked away this time, I didn't stop him.
That hurt too.