This time, I don’t crack a smile.

“There was an accident, Holden.” I pause, letting those words hang in the air between us with our breaths for a minute. “Your dad…he didn’t make it. He’s gone.”

Holden stares at me, his gaze flat and unblinking.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

Still, he says nothing. He doesn’t react. Doesn’t ask questions. Definitely doesn’t lean into me or seek comfort.

“Sydney’s at your house with my parents. If you want, I can drive you.” I hold up my keys, like he needs proof I’m capable of operating a vehicle.

I’m not sure what else to do or say.

Nothing.

Once again, he’s giving me nothing. If our roles were reversed, I’d lean on him. I’d want him here. There’s nothing on Holden’s face to suggest the same.

“I have my truck.”

I wait, but that’s all he says.

“Okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”

I wait for him to say something else. All I get is more silence.

He’s in shock. I’m not sure I should leave him, even if that’s what he wants. But I’m not sure what else to do or say.

A few hours ago, it felt like we were on the brink of becoming something. All of a sudden, those possibilities look like ash. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not even sure he considers me a friend.

So I turn and walk down the stairs. The whole time I wait—hope—he’ll call me back.

But all I can hear is silence.

Once again, he’s shut me out. Without warning and about something I have no control over. I see the parallels slide into place.

He kissed me. He forgot about me.

He slept with me. He’s over me.

I glance back, once, as I reach the grass. Holden is no longer on the porch. I can see in the through the window, the lights in the kitchen a beam through the darkness.

He’s standing right where he was when I walked into the kitchen. Back near the fridge, talking with Mark. McKenzie Howard walks over to them, and I watch him greet her with a smile. More than he mustered for me.

I feel thirteen again, watching out my bedroom window as the boy across the street leaves on bikes with a group of friends without glancing at my house once. Forgotten. An inconvenience.

I thought he’d changed. I thought I’d changed. I thought we’d changed.