[BOOK2] Sequel to Tangled Hearts
*****
I want her.
I want her more than I've ever wanted anything.
But I can't have her. Because the moment I admit that out loud, the moment I risk everything we've built, I could lose her.
And losing Isla? That's...
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The pounding beat of the party echoed in my ears, but it barely registered. I should've been celebrating—after all, we won the game, right? But instead, I found myself leaning against the counter in the kitchen, a half-empty beer dangling from my hand, staring out the window like I was lost. Something felt off, something I couldn't quite name, but it clung to me like a weight.
I was about to leave, to get as far away from the noise as possible, when I saw her.
Isla.
She was pushing through the crowd, her face pale, her eyes swollen and red from crying. My stomach twisted, an ache settling deep inside as I watched her, broken and fragile, moving like she just needed to escape. Without thinking, I was moving, my body on autopilot, weaving through the party to reach her.
"Isla!" I called out, loud enough to cut through the music, but she didn't stop. She didn't even look at me.
Panic surged in my chest as I followed her outside, the cool night air hitting me like a slap. She stood by the side of the house, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, looking so small, so shattered. The sight of her like that, breaking in front of me, made something inside me crack.
"Hey," I said softly as I approached, my hand hovering near her shoulder but not quite touching. "What happened?"
She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, but she didn't answer right away. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at nothing, like she didn't know how to piece together the words. When she finally spoke, her voice was so small, so defeated. "I'm so stupid, Theo."
Her words cut through me, sharp and cold. "What? No, you're not," I said quickly, moving closer. "What are you talking about?"
"Can we just get out of here?" she whispered, her voice breaking, and I didn't hesitate.
I led her to my car, not saying anything as we left the party behind. She stayed quiet, staring out the window as the streets blurred by, her shoulders trembling with silent sobs. The weight of her pain pressed down on me, every instinct I had telling me to fix it, to make it better—but I didn't know how. Not yet.
We pulled into a park, the night wrapping around us in a quiet that felt too heavy. I killed the engine and got out, walking over to her side of the car. I opened the door and held out my hand, and when she took it, her fingers were cold, her grip weak. I led her over to a bench near the playground, the moonlight filtering through the trees, casting soft shadows across her face.
For a long time, neither of us spoke. She sat with her shoulders hunched, her hands covering her face as tears spilled down. Every sob that escaped her tore me apart, but I didn't push. I couldn't. Not yet.
"Luna," I whispered, sliding closer and gently pulling her hands away from her face. "I hate seeing you like this. Just tell me what happened, please. If you don't... I'm going to assume the worst, and I swear I'll—"
