“Oh, nothing,” she says. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” Something like a hiccup comes out of her mouth, and then she giggles.

Wren. Giggles.

“Are you drunk?”

“Uh…” She laughs again.

I throw my skates in my bag, then push my feet into my boots. “Where are you?”

“Nowhere important. Actually, I don’t even know why I called, so I—”

“No, please don’t go,” I rush out, not sure why. It’s not going to help me in any way to keep listening to her voice, but it’s as if I couldn’t resist asking for a little more. She’s a drug, and what can an addict to but ask for his next fix?

There’s noise in the background, like people chattering. She must be at a restaurant or a store, then. Or maybe a bar.

The idea of her drunk and alone makes goose bumps rise on my arms.

“I don’t think this was a good idea,” she whispers.

“Sure it was.” Better her being on the phone with me than talking to some creep.

A sigh reaches my ears through the phone, soft and warm. “How are you doing, Aaron? Are you…seeing someone?” Hiccup.

“What? Of course not.” I can’t believe she could even think that. Did she believe that moving on from her would be easy? That what I felt for her was just some idiotic childhood crush? Was that why it was so easy for her to let me go?

Wren lets out a breath, and while I can’t see her, I’d swear I hear relief in it.

“I wouldn’t do that,” I add, my voice low.

“You should.”

“What?”

Beside me, Finn does some hand gestures, but I ignore him. This feels like a make-or-break moment.

“I said you should. See someone new, I mean. You deserve it.”

My jaw ticks. “I don’t want someone else.”

In a low voice, she says, “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

Deflecting, she says, “I wish I was more selfish, Aaron, but I’m not.”

My fingers dig through my hair, pulling at the roots. “What does that even mean?” She’s drunker than I’d initially thought. “Can you just tell me where you are? I’m getting worried.”

“You know I can’t do that,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because then I’d see you again, and I don’t think I have the strength to push you away twice.”

A punch to my stomach.

“Then don’t.” Please, please don’t.

At the same time, if she sees me and doesn’t push me away, but also can’t love me the way I love her, then maybe she’s right to stay away. I can only get my heart broken so many times.

“You don’t understand,” she says, sounding tired.