The city lights blurred past Jace's windshield as he drove with one hand on the wheel and the other gripping the nearly empty bottle of whiskey he'd picked up out of anger. He hadn't intended to drink after the studio closed, but after Amy left.....after the door slammed and his name hung useless in the air.....he couldn't go straight home. He couldn't sit still.
So he'd driven. Nowhere specific. Just anywhere.
And eventually… into a bar.
He rarely drank. He hated how it dulled him, how it made him feel like he was underwater and couldn't pull himself out even if he tried. But tonight, he hadn't cared. He needed something to drown out the echo of her voice.
"I wanted to spend the night with you." Those were her words,the words of the woman that has looked past his lowest moments,the voice of the woman he loves.
The way her hands trembled as she set the Thai food down. The way she wouldn't even look at him. The pain in her voice.
And the look in her eyes....it bled betrayal, disappointment… hurt.
God!, the hurt.
Jace blinked hard and rubbed his forehead with his palm as he pulled into his building's parking lot. He sat in the car for a moment, staring at the message he'd typed fifteen minutes ago but no reply.
I know you probably hate me right now. But please, just tell me you're okay. That's all I need to know.
He sat there in silence, watching the screen like it might give him something back. But it stayed empty. No "typing…" bubble. No read receipt.
Nothing.
"God, Amy…" he muttered under his breath, tilting his head back against the headrest. His chest felt tight, like something was stuck between his ribs.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Gina wasn't supposed to show up. She wasn't supposed to say what she said, touch him the way she used to, disrupt everything he'd tried so hard to rebuild.
And Amy..... Amy wasn't supposed to see that. She didn't deserve to see it....any of it.
Not that version of him. Not the version he thought he'd buried.
He slammed the car door shut behind him and made his way upstairs forgetting the elevator, dragging his feet like every step weighed fifty pounds. The hallway lights buzzed faintly above him as he keyed into his apartment. It was cold. Empty.
Without her..... everything seemed wrong. He tossed his keys on the counter, missed, let them clatter to the floor, and didn't bother picking them up.
He sat on the couch without turning the lights on. His phone screen lit up his face every few seconds as he kept checking it.
Still no reply.
He exhaled hard. Rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head in his hands.
"She's in the past," he said aloud. "Gina is in the past."
He repeated it, softer this time, as if trying to convince the dark.
"She's in the past… Amy is… Amy is now…"
But the words didn't comfort him. They didn't change the fact that Amy had looked at him like she didn't recognize him anymore.
Eventually, he slumped sideways into the couch cushions. One arm draped over his eyes, the other still holding his phone like a lifeline.
Sleep came in slow, broken waves.
And the last thing Jace whispered, just before unconsciousness pulled him under, was her name.
"Amy…"
.....
The clock on Sophie's nightstand blinked 11:48 PM in soft light. The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp and the pale blue of Sophie's TV playing some muted comfort show neither of them were really watching.
Amy sat curled on the edge of Sophie's bed, blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She hadn't said much in the past hour. Just picked at dinner, drank water, and stared at her phone like it might start speaking first.
A soft chime broke the silence.
Amy glanced down at her screen. One new message.
Jace:
I know you probably hate me right now. But please, just tell me you're okay. That's all I need to know.
She stared at the message. Her thumb hovered over the reply button. She typed "I'm okay", then paused. Backspaced. Typed again. "You should've told me the truth." Then erased it. Again.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips. Finally, she set the phone face-down on her lap.
Sophie, sitting cross-legged with a warm cup of tea in hand, looked over. "That from him?"
Amy nodded.
"Are you gonna reply?"
Amy shook her head slowly. "I wanted to. Then I didn't" She tugged the blanket tighter around her, looking small and tired. "But if I text him now, I'm afraid it'll sound like forgiveness. And I'm not even sure what I want to forgive."
Sophie set her cup down and leaned forward. "Are you starting to think you overreacted?"
Amy hesitated. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of the blanket. "I keep thinking about it. About how I just... left. Didn't ask questions. Didn't give him a chance. I just saw her there, touching him, and... I didn't even want to hear his side."
"You didn't have to," Sophie said gently. "He should've told you his side before you had to walk into it."
Amy blinked, eyes stinging again.
"I mean," Sophie continued, "you trusted him. You let him in. You loved him, Ames. And he let someone from his past..... someone he claimed was just a friend.... walk into the middle of your relationship like she belonged there. He let that happen."
"I don't think he meant for it to happen," Amy whispered.
"I know. But you don't have to bleed just because he didn't mean to cut you."
Amy let that sink in. Her breath caught as she processed it.
Sophie reached over, placing a hand gently over hers. "You didn't overreact, Amy. You reacted like someone who was trying to protect herself. And you have every right to."
There was silence again, but it was warmer this time. Softer.
Amy finally picked up her phone, looked at the message again, then turned it off.
"I'm not ready to talk to him yet," she said softly.
Sophie gave her a small, supportive smile. "Then don't. Sleep first. Feel what you need to. He can wait."
Amy nodded. She leaned back into the pillows and let herself breathe, really breathe, for the first time all night.
Outside, the city moved on. But in that quiet bedroom, Amy let her heart rest, not healed, not whole, but held.