Ashlyn almost didn't go.
She stood in front of her mirror longer than she needed to, tugging at the sleeves of her hoodie until they sat evenly. Adjusting the hem. Fixing it. Refixing it.
One.
Two.
Three.
She grabbed her phone and left before she could talk herself out of it.
The skatepark sat behind the community center, concrete worn smooth in places and chipped in others. A few kids were already there. Music somewhere. Laughter somewhere else.
Toby stood near the rail like he'd been waiting his whole life.
When he saw her, his face lit up in a way that made her stomach do something small and inconvenient.
"You came," he said.
"You texted me eleven times."
"It was nine."
"It was eleven."
Toby grinned. "Okay, fine. But I promised you'd be impressed."
Ashlyn raised a brow. "By what?"
"By greatness."
She crossed her arms. "This I have to see."
Toby dropped his board and rolled it back and forth once, like he was warming up for something serious.
"Have you ever seen a clean boardslide?" he asked as he pushed off, smooth at first, confident. He glanced at her mid-roll, like he needed confirmation she was watching.
"I've seen you trip over air," she called. "You're not that good."
"Rude. That was wind interference."
"I'm watching," she said dryly. "Show me."
He hit the rail. For half a second, it looked good.
Then the board slipped.
Toby didn't.
He hit concrete hard enough to make a sharp, echoing slap.
The sound made her chest seize.
Ashlyn was moving before she thought about it.
"Toby—"
"I'm fine," he groaned, trying to push himself up before sucking in a sharp breath.
His right wrist stayed stiff.
Ashlyn knelt beside him. "You're not fine."
"I'm… mostly fine."
"You can't move your wrist."
"I can move it." He wiggled his fingers weakly. "See? Mobility."
"That's not your wrist."
He looked at it like it had betrayed him. "Okay. Minor setback."
Ashlyn steadied him as he sat up. "Why would you try that?"
Toby blinked, surprised.
Then he shrugged. "You were watching."
The simplicity of it knocked something loose inside her. He didn't say it like she owed him anything.
He just said it.
"You're an idiot," she said, pushing him lightly.
"Certified."
He tried to stand and winced hard enough that she grabbed his arm.
"Stop. You're going to make it worse."
Toby looked down at her hand on his sleeve.
Then he nodded. "Okay."
Just okay.
No arguing. No pretending.
"My house is close," she said. "My mom has ice. Wraps. Stuff."
He hesitated. "Your mom?"
"She doesn't bite."
"That's not what I'm worried about," he muttered.
Ashlyn rolled her eyes and helped him up.
He leaned into her without making a show of it.
It felt… normal.
—
The house looked the same as it always had. Small porch. Faded steps. Familiar windows.
Ashlyn braced herself before opening the door.
Her mom looked up from the kitchen when they stepped inside.
"Ash—"
Then she saw Toby.
"Toby Rivera?" her mom said, blinking.
Toby froze. "Uh. Yes, ma'am?"
Ashlyn looked between them. "You know him?"
Her mom laughed softly. "Camp. You would've noticed if you hadn't spent the week hiding in your hoodie." Her voice shook a little, but she was smiling. "I'm glad you're making friends. Make yourself at home."
Toby offered a polite hello and immediately asked if there were snacks.
Ashlyn stared at him.
Memory shifted.
Her mom stepped closer and gently tilted his chin. "Your hair is growing back."
Her gaze dropped to his wrist. "What happened?"
"Skateboard. Gravity. I lost."
She sighed. "Sit."
Ashlyn guided him to the couch.
He lowered himself carefully, trying not to show how much it hurt.
Ashlyn grabbed the first-aid kit from the hall closet. She'd always known exactly where it was.
Control was easier when you knew where things belonged.
She sat beside him and took his wrist gently.
"Tell me if it hurts."
"It already hurts," he admitted. "But okay."
She wrapped ice in a towel and pressed it to the swelling.
Toby sucked in a breath. "Okay. That's cold."
"That's the point."
Her mom hovered nearby.
"You okay, baby?" she asked quietly.
Ashlyn stiffened.
The question wasn't about the wrist.
She nodded. "Yeah."
Her mom held her gaze a second longer than usual, then nodded back.
"Tea's in the cabinet," she said softly before returning to the kitchen.
The air shifted.
Toby flexed his fingers and winced. "So I nailed that trick."
Ashlyn snorted. "You ate concrete."
"Strategically."
"You fell."
"For art."
She laughed before she could stop herself.
Toby looked pleased, like that had been the goal.
Ashlyn adjusted the wrap, precise and even. Her mind tried to pull backward.
To the other voice.
The other hands.
The other words.
You're mine.
She shoved the thought down.
I gave myself to someone who didn't deserve it.
The sentence came anyway.
Toby watched her hands. "You're really good at this."
"At what?"
"Fixing things."
Her throat tightened. "Not everything."
He didn't push.
Just nodded. "Okay."
Just okay.
No prying.
Ashlyn finished taping the wrap and leaned back. "Don't skate for a few days."
He saluted with his good hand. "Yes, ma'am."
She rolled her eyes.
Toby looked around the house.
Ashlyn followed his gaze.
The silence didn't feel sharp.
Her mom hummed softly in the kitchen.
That hadn't happened in a while.
"You hungry?" her mom called.
Toby blinked. "Always. I'll never turn down free food."
Her mom laughed. "Good answer."
Ashlyn watched him stand carefully.
He didn't posture.
Didn't complain.
Didn't make her feel small for helping him.
He was just there.
Present.
Like he belonged.
Ashlyn leaned back against the couch and let herself breathe.
The regret was still there.
The memory still lived under her skin.
But sitting here—with her mom teasing him in the kitchen and Toby arguing about how he'd "almost landed it"—the weight shifted.
For the first time in a while, being chosen didn't feel like something she had to survive.
It felt like something she could decide.