Page 55 of Through the Storm

“Katy,” he says again, voice lower now, grounding me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I want it to be you.”

He goes still for half a breath, like the words hit somewhere deep.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

He stays with me through every second of it. Through every breath. He kisses away a few tears. And when the pain subsides, when I’m shaking in his arms, he murmurs that it’s okay, that I’m amazing.

And I believe him. Because he always has.

Being with him like this—safe, seen, wanted—is more than I ever let myself hope for.

Better than my dreams.

The sound of footsteps pulls me out of sleep.

For a second, I don’t know where I am. Then I open my eyes and see Ben sitting on the edge of my bed, like this is any other morning.

Like last night didn’t rewrite something fundamental.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says quietly.

“Hey,” I murmur, still foggy, still warm.

He glances at me, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then he stands.

“I got you pancakes, they’re in the kitchen. And I grabbed you some Tylenol in case you’re feeling sore. I left it on your nightstand.”

I smile. “Thanks.”

“I have to get going. But… it was really good to see you, Katy.”

He hesitates, just enough for hope to sneak in.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

The words land wrong. They feel too careful, too distant.

Take care of yourself.

“Oh,” I say, forcing a smile that feels brittle even to me. “Yeah. You too.”

He nods once, like that’s enough. Like everything is clear and settled.

I listen to his footsteps fade down the hall. The front door opens.Then closes.

And just like that, my room feels too quiet and cold.

My chest caves in, slow and brutal, as the truth settles where warmth used to be. Last night didn’t mean the same thing to him.Idon’t mean the same to him.

And I lie there staring at the ceiling, wondering how I could be so stupid.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

katy

A FOOTBALL PLAYER A DAY KEEPS THE HEARTACHE AWAY