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I freeze, hand still to my ear, eyes locked on the thread just now starting to unravel around my finger. Frozen like maybe I can somehow pause this whole thing if I don't move at all.

Jace huffs out a laugh but there's no humor in it. "It's funny, really," he says. "I've waited for answers from you for weeks. Guess I should've been careful what I wished for."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I love you so much."

A pause lands between us.

"Just not enough," he breathes.

My chest burns, the words I can't say trying to claw their way out. "That's not true," I mutter.

Jace takes a slow, steady breath in, then lets it out the same way. "But that's what it is."

My fingers freeze against the bedspread. The string loosens further until it's still there, but I can barely feel it anymore.

Just like him—still technically on the other end of the line, but already further away somehow.

The distance between us keeps stretching—not the miles. Something heavier. Something I started undoing long before this call. And now the space between what we were and what we were supposed to be is so wide I wouldn't even know how to close it.

So I don't insult him by trying.

"Goodbye, Jace," I manage, my voice not even my own anymore.

I wait for his reply, fingers tightening around the blanket. When it doesn't come right away, I think he might say something different—argue, finally fight. Anything but say it back.

I sit forward slowly, hoping he does, but part of me already knows it won't matter. If him loving me couldn't make leaving okay, him hating me won't change things either.

The silence grows thicker with each second. And just when I think he might end the call without saying anything, his words finally come.

Soft.

His tone, deafening.

"I'll see ya."

There's the faintest click, and the line goes dead.

I sit there, my phone still pressed against my ear despite the silence on the other end. I hold it there like lowering it will make things final, until there's nothing left to do but slowly pull it away.

My hand lands in my lap, my screen nothing but black where his name once lit up brightly. And I don't move. I can't.

Frozen again.

I just sit there, thinking maybe that'll help this time—like the heartbreak can't reach me if I just… stay.

A familiar curse I can't seem to outrun.

29

Jace

Whatever workout Lenny and I are trying to pretend we're doing is a joke. We're running… technically. But we've barely made it a hundred feet without stopping since we started ten minutes ago.

It's not the weather that's to blame. Or the terrain. Or the fact that we're out of breath—though that'll definitely happen if we keep this up.

It's because for the last half mile, we haven't been able to keep our hands off of each other long enough to focus.

We'll jog a straightaway, then she'll reach for me.