Ava's POV
Ray's hoodie swallows me whole, and somehow, it still doesn't feel like enough. I sit on the balcony, knees hugged to my chest, the wind threading through my hair like a ghost of comfort. I'm shaking, but not from the cold. The night is still. The stars blink like they know something I don't.
Sebastian is asleep. The house is quiet.
And I feel like I'm coming undone in silence.
Ray.
His name feels like a whisper pressed against the walls of my chest. Always there. Always steady.
And I think—
I think I'm in love with him.
God, the realization hits like a crack through my ribs.
It's been there for a while now, hasn't it? In the way I feel safest when he's around. In the way my laughter comes easier, softer, warmer when he's in the room. In the way I wear his clothes, fall asleep on his bed, crawl into his space like I belong there—because some part of me does.
But I'm so scared.
Scared in a way I haven't been in seventeen years.
Back when I was fifteen and pregnant, with a heart full of hope and a boy who said he'd stay—and didn't.
Sebastian's father left when I told him.
He didn't yell. He didn't cry. He just… walked away.
I remember the sound of that silence.
It cracked me open.
And now, when I look at Ray, I think: What if it happens again?
What if I tell him, and he looks at me differently? What if he walks away—not because he doesn't love me, but because I'm too much? Too broken? Too wrapped around Sebastian and my fear and the years we lost?
I can't survive another goodbye.
Not from him.
Because Ray—he's not just anyone. He's my best friend. My home. He's been here since I was a girl with scraped knees and cracked knuckles, fighting for a future no one believed I deserved. And he stayed. Through every mess, every scar, every late night with a feverish baby and no idea what to do.
Ray was there when I called him after a year of silence, crying into the phone with a newborn burning up in my arms.
He didn't hesitate. He dropped everything and came back.
And now I'm terrified that if I love him out loud—
he might leave too.
So I stay quiet.
I bury it under teasing smiles and casual touches and midnight confessions that don't say what I really mean.
Because saying it would make it real.
And real things can break.
Real things can leave.
And I don't think I could survive losing him.
Not Ray.
Never him.