Tangled Hearts.

~Chapter 12~

~Colby~

~Saturday, October 8th~

Saturday was a whole disaster. The girls decided they needed—and I'm quoting here—"a mini wardrobe revamp," which is code for "let's spend six hours trying on stuff we don't need while dragging Rae and each other through every store like a chaotic, pastel tornado." Naturally, that left me, Jake, Sam, and Corey to "hold down the fort," which really just meant eating stale pizza crusts, half-studying, and arguing over who farted.

Spoiler: it was Sam. He denied it, but the smell peeled paint off the wall.

The girls got back around 9:30 with six shopping bags, zero shame, and enough perfume fumes to kill a horse. They crashed almost immediately, probably exhausted from financially drop-kicking their bank accounts. Me and the guys stayed up a bit longer pretending we had our lives together. By 10:45, they bailed one by one, and I finally dragged my sorry ass upstairs.

I was out cold by 10:55.

Until 1 a.m., when my brain decided to go full circus mode.

By eleven, I was already running on fumes. My limbs were begging for sleep. My soul? Deceased.

But my brain? Oh no. My brain was like, "Let's overthink every decision you've ever made since birth."

I stared at the ceiling like it owed me money. Tossed. Turned. Tried cocooning in the blanket. Kicked it off in rage. Checked my phone: zero messages, zero distractions, zero mercy. Just me, the existential dread, and the goddamn fridge humming like it's got secrets.

"Seriously?" I groaned, palms dragging down my face. "Can I please just pass out like a normal human for once in my life?"

After another ten minutes of lying there like a sweaty burrito of stress, I gave up and zombie-walked through the house. The silence was...unnerving. No music, no yelling, no Jake trying to do a backflip off the couch. Just quiet.

Even the fridge sounded judgmental.

I collapsed onto the couch, elbows on knees, head in hands.

My phone sat on the coffee table, glowing like it wanted to be a bad idea. So naturally, I picked it up. Scrolled through my contacts. Stopped on the one name I knew would pick up even if I called from Mars.

Kalani.

She answered on the first ring like she was expecting me to call at "stupid o'clock."

"Colby. It's three in the damn morning. Are you bleeding out?"

"Wow. Warm greetings, always. Thanks, K."

She yawned. "I'm kidding. Barely. What's up, insomniac?"

I leaned back and sighed loud enough to sound dramatic. She chuckled.

"Let me guess. Dad?"

I laughed—hollow, bitter, the kind of laugh you give when you're one stressor away from punching drywall. "No, the Pope. Yes, it's Dad."

Kalani groaned like she aged five years in one breath. "That man's gonna give you gray hair by your next birthday."

"Already plucked two. He's ahead of schedule."

"Still riding your ass about the pack stuff?"

"It's not even the work anymore. I don't care about the damn pack. I just need the paycheck. It's him, Kalani. He's just—he's cold. Cold like Disney villain Colby. Like 'I'd push my son into a pit and call it character development' cold."

"I mean...you are a little dramatic, but I'll allow it."

"I moved across the country, K. Across the actual country. And he's still haunting me like a bitter ghost with daddy issues."