She let out a soft, almost reluctant laugh. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Be nice to me. You don’t have to be nice to me.”

“I know.”

She let out another soft laugh, then sighed. “God, I feel so, so stupid. I knew he didn’t love me the way I wanted him to. But I kept convincing myself that maybe if I was patient enough, if I was good enough, if I gave him enough time, maybe he’d⁠—”

“You’re not stupid, Sydney.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, looking down at her lap.

“Hey,” I said gently. “Look at me.”

She did.

“You’re not stupid,” I repeated firmly. “You’re not pathetic. You’re not weak. And you sure as hell are not unlovable.”

Her throat bobbed.

“You are Sydney-freaking-Covington,” I continued, a smile tugging at my lips. “You are smart and beautiful and confident, and you don’t need him to be any of those things.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

She wiped it away quickly. “God, I hate you.”

I grinned. “No, you don’t.”

She sniffled, rolling her eyes. “Whatever.”

A beat of silence passed.

Then, she inhaled, as if she was forcing herself to let it go.

She wiped at her face again. “God, I must look like a mess.”

“You do.”

She shot me a glare. “You’re supposed to lie.”

I shrugged. “You want honesty, or not?”

She straightened in her seat, cleared her throat, and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Where are you going?”

“Work,” I replied.

She nodded, staring straight ahead. “Get in,” she muttered, brushing hair out of her face. “I’ll drive you.”

“What?”

“Just get in the car, Beverly.”

I almost said no. I almost told her I’d rather take my bike, that I needed the air, that she didn’t owe me anything.

But then I saw the way her hands were shaking against the steering wheel. The way her swollen eyes flicked to the passenger seat like she couldn’t stand to be alone right now.

So I opened the door and slid inside.

Sydney wiped her nose with the sleeve of her dress, sniffed, then flicked on the headlights and pulled away from the curb.

As we drove, and the silence settled between us, I realized I wasn’t sure who I was running from more.

Blake, or the part of me that still wanted to turn back.

He was a phantom in my heart, a shadow I couldn’t outrun, even when I tried.

* * *

By the time I made it to work, I was already running on fumes. My emotions had been dragged through the dirt and stomped on multiple times in the last hour, and the last thing I wanted to do was pretend to care about people’s popcorn preferences.

But I needed the distraction.