Page 74 of Try Line Hearts
Out through his mouth.
Slow. Controlled. Contained.
The way he always did when he refused to let himself break.
He didn’t text back.
He didn’t delete the photo.
Both felt equally impossible and in that moment, that’s when he felt the first tears start.
Lucas’s stomach dropped.
He typed immediately:I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—
He stopped.
Deleted it.
Typed:Talk to me. Please.
Sent.
No response.
He waited, staring at the screen like he could will it to light up.
Nothing.
He tried again, softer this time, as if softness could undo the photo he’d sent like a weapon disguised as a gift.
Lucas: I shouldn’t have done that.
Lucas: I wasn’t thinking.
Lucas: Are you okay?
Delivered.
Silence.
The kind of silence that wasn’t absence—it was a door shut carefully, deliberately, with fingers still on the latch.
Lucas sank onto the edge of his sofa, elbows on his knees, phone heavy in his hand.
He’d wanted Eli close enough to drown out the world.
And instead he’d reminded Eli, with one impulsive picture, that Lucas still reached for the easiest escape when he was scared:sex, speed, distraction—anything but sitting in the mess and owning it like a man.
The realization made him feel sick.
His phone buzzed.
For a second his heart leapt.
Then he saw the name.
Maeve Donnelly.
