Becca

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here.

The tile beneath me is cold—so cold it seeps through my skin and into my bones. My legs feel numb. My eyes still burn. My heart… I’m not even sure it’s still beating. It just hurts—like something inside me’s been ripped apart, and I have no idea how to stitch it back together.

I’m not crying. Not really. Not anymore, at least. But the skin beneath my eyes is raw, and my cheeks are still damp.

My hand moves without thinking, reaching for the pendant around my neck. Only a few minutes ago, it was just a symbol—a connection between Nick, Shane, and me. But now… it’s more. It’s comfort. The one thing I have left to hold on to. I curl my fingers around it like a lifeline, tracing the ridges over and over, letting the pattern calm the storm inside me.

Andromeda and Pegasus. 

Two constellations I knew nothing about before Shane came into my life. But now, they feel as much a part of me as the heart that’s barely beating in my chest. 

Andromeda—the girl chained to the rock, waiting to be sacrificed. 

Pegasus—the winged horse who carried her savior, racing through the sky to rescue her.

Perseus—the hero who fell in love with her at first sight, who knew in his heart she was his fate, and fought with everything he had to save her. 

Three souls forever intertwined. 

Shane, Nick, me. 

Us.

The thought makes my chest ache all over again.

I close my eyes, breathing through the pain, trying to swallow the grief that threatens to rise again. I told Shane I’d wait. That I’d hang on. That I’d trust him to do what’s best for us. 

And I meant it. 

But God… trusting someone with something this important doesn’t make the wait any easier to bear.

A soft creak breaks the silence, and I tense, my spine snapping straight. I suck in a breath, swiping angrily at my tear-streaked face. My heart lurches in my chest, like I’ve been caught doing something wrong, something I should hide, even though under the circumstances, my breaking feels more than justified.

It takes me a second to remember I’m not alone. It’s just Nick. Probably coming up to check on me.

The door clicks softly behind him.

I don’t look up, but I hear the pause. The quiet inhale. The hesitation. I know he sees me—curled on the floor like some shattered version of myself I swore I’d never be again. 

Yet here I am.

And I’m grateful when Nick doesn’t say anything.

Instead, all I hear is the soft shuffle of footsteps… and then the gentle scrape of his back sliding down the cabinet beside me. He sits next to me, shoulder to shoulder, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like I’m not a mess. Like he’s not seeing how stupidly weak I am, how, instead of fighting or standing strong, I’m just sitting here, drowning in self-pity.

We sit like that for a long, quiet moment. Both staring forward. Breathing in the stillness.

Then gently he asks, “You okay?” His voice is soft. Cautious. Like he’s trying not to touch the raw edges of something that’s already bleeding. And maybe that’s what makes it click. The gentleness. The way he knew exactly what I needed. Just quietly sinking to the ground beside me, without a single demand. 

I turn to look at him, and I see it in his eyes. The understanding. The weight of it all.

“You knew,” I say softly.

Nick doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t deny it. He just nods once. “I did. I’m sorry.”

My throat tightens. “What do you have to be sorry for? You’re not responsible for this.”

He exhales slowly, rubbing his palms against his jeans. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. It needed to come from him.”

I nod, my eyes burning again. “Yeah. I know. I understand.”

And I do. I really do.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Nick leans his head back against the cabinet, staring at the ceiling like it might hold the answers we need.

“It’s fucked up,” he says finally, his voice low and tight. “What they’re doing. What his parents are asking him to give up. It’s unconscionable.”

I nod, his words settling deep. “Yeah. It is.” A pause stretches between us before I add, “But Amanda wants this.”

Nick closes his eyes for a second, his jaw tightening, before he exhales. “She does.” He pauses, then adds. “But it’s for the wrong reasons. She thinks marrying Shane is the only way to get free of our father. From the control. The expectations. Everything he’s built around her like a cage. She believes if she does this, he’ll finally let her go.”

I want to believe that. I do.

But the Amanda I know? The girl who’s spent her entire life reminding me I don’t belong? Who threatened me the second she thought Shane might care about me? 

That Amanda isn’t trying to survive.

She’s trying to win.

Still… I glance at Nick. At the weight in his eyes. The guilt in his posture. None of this is his fault. He’s not just defending her, he’s trying to hold everything and everyone together. His sister. Shane. Me. He’s stuck in the middle of a war none of us asked for. One none of us has any real power over.

So I nod. Even though I don’t agree with his assessment of Amanda.

“I get it,” I say softly. “Or at least… I’m trying to.”

His lips twitch. “That’s more than most. More than anyone would expect, given my sister isn’t exactly the easiest person to feel bad for—let alone understand.”

The silence stretches again, but it doesn’t feel as fragile this time. Not like glass between us. More like comfort. Quiet understanding.

Still, it’s heavy. Weighted with sadness. Something Nick apparently has had enough of.

“So,” he says, shifting beside me as he crosses one leg over the other, “knock knock.”

I blink at him. “What?”

“Come on. Play along. It’ll be worth it.”

 “Seriously?”

He shrugs. “You look like you need a good laugh. And fortunately for you, I’ve got a whole arsenal of terrible jokes I’m dying to share with my new sister.”

I roll my eyes, trying to sound annoyed, but secretly loving that he called me his sister. “Fine. Who’s there?”

“Lettuce.”

I glance over at him, unimpressed. “Lettuce who?”

“Lettuce up. It’s cold as fuck down here on this floor.”

I groan, but the corner of my mouth twitches, just barely.

“You’re right. That was terrible.”

“Don’t worry. I told you I have more. Let’s try this one.” He clears his throat dramatically. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Atch.”

“Atch who?”

“Bless you.” He grins from ear to ear, clearly proud of himself.

“Wow.” I roll my eyes, fighting the smile that wants to break free. “I have no words.”

“Okay, fine. What about this one? Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Cow says.”

“Cow says who?”

“No! Cow says moo.”

I groan loudly, “That’s it. I’m revoking your cheering-up privileges. These are awful.”

“Okay, okay. One last one.” 

I shake my head, my lips already curling against my will as he barrels on. 

“Come on. It’s a good one. I have a really good feeling about it.”

“Fine. Go ahead.” I wave my hand, signaling he can continue.

“Knock knock.”

I sigh. “Who’s there?”

“Olive.”

“Olive who?”

“Olive you. Even though you think my jokes are trash.” Nick lets the last terrible punchline hang in the air like it’s gold, which, judging by the smug look on his face, he absolutely believes it is.

I snort—an actual sound—and then cover my mouth like I can take it back. But it’s too late. The laugh slips out, breathy and unexpected. My shoulders shake once, then again. And suddenly I’m laughing harder than I have all day. Not at the joke, but at him. At the prideful look on his face. 

It doesn’t last long. But it’s real. And it feels… good. Surprisingly good, actually, despite the heaviness still constricting my chest.

I shake my head, still smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he says, a little softer. “But I got you laughing, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. You did,” I admit, the tension in my shoulders easing just the tiniest bit.

We settle into silence again, but this time it’s softer. Easier. Like maybe the worst of the storm has passed—at least for now. 

Then, after a moment, he turns his head slightly toward me.

“You okay?” His voice isn’t teasing now. It’s quiet. Serious. Yet somehow comforting. 

I stare at the floor for a second, fingers curling loosely around the pendant. My throat tightens as I search for an answer. My first instinct is to lie, to tell him I’m fine. But after everything he’s done for me, it feels like I owe him the truth.

“No. I’m not. But… I’ll get through it. There’s no other choice.”

Nick exhales—long and low—like he’s been holding his breath, too.

He doesn’t respond right away, but something in his expression shifts. Like he’s not just worried about me, but all of it. Shane. Amanda. The house of cards Charles built, and how we’re all just standing underneath it, waiting for it to collapse on top of us.

Nick shifts beside me, his elbow brushing mine by accident. 

“What Shane’s doing…” he starts, then trails off like he’s still working it out himself. “It’s for the right reasons. Even if it looks all kinds of wrong from the outside.”

I glance at him but stay silent.

“He loves you,” he continues, more certain now. “He’s just trying to fix things. To buy you guys time. All he wants is to be with you.”

My throat tightens. The tears I thought were gone sting again at the corners of my eyes, but I force a shaky breath and nod.

“I know.”

Nick turns toward me just slightly, his voice dropping into something even softer. “You trust him, right?”

I don’t answer. Not out loud. But I nod again. Slow, but certain. My chin wobbles, and I feel the first tear slip loose—but this one doesn’t feel like devastation. It feels like hope. Like belief. Like I’m choosing him and the path he’s on. Even if it breaks me for a while.

“Good,” Nick says, nodding like he needed to hear it. “Me too. Shane’s a good guy, Becca. The best man I know. That’s why I trust him with you. And…” He hesitates, then adds quietly, “It’s why I trust he’ll do right by Amanda, too.”

I look at him—really look—and not for the first time, I see how much he’s carrying. How hard he’s trying to be everything to everyone. It makes my chest ache. For him. For Shane. For all of us, trying to hold on to something good… while the world keeps trying to tear it apart.

My fingers drift back to the pendant.

I trace the star again—Alpheratz—the one that binds Andromeda and Pegasus together. The one that reminds me I’m no longer alone.

Nick’s words echo in the back of my mind. He’s right about Shane. Shane will do right by all of us. But it’s not him I’m afraid of. It’s the world that he, Nick, and Amanda come from that terrifies me. The pressure. The power their parents wield like a weapon. The way people like Charles Kline always seem to win, no matter who they destroy in the process.

Shane will fight. I know he will.

But what if it’s not enough?

I blink hard, forcing the thought away before it can take root. I’ve already made my choice. Told him I’d wait. Told him I trusted him and would support him. 

And I will. 

Even if it hurts. 

Even if it seems impossible.

I don’t know how we’re going to survive this. But if Shane’s still fighting… then I will, too. 

For us. 

For all of us—even Amanda.

Nick nudges my knee gently, pulling me back to the present. I blink, my fingers still curled around the pendant.

“You hungry?” he asks, his voice casual, like we haven’t just been wading through my heartbreak. “I make a mean boxed mac and cheese.”

I huff a laugh, scratchy and broken at the edges. “I don’t even have boxed mac and cheese. That stuff’s terrible—almost as bad as your jokes.”

His mouth drops open like I’ve just hurled the worst insult imaginable. 

“Excuse me? First of all, I brought my own. I don’t go anywhere without my own supply. Emergency rations and all that.”

“Oh. My. God,” I say with a smile, wiping the last remnants of my tears from my face. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious. And as far as tasting terrible,” he says, putting on a tone of mock offense, “I find that comment highly disrespectful. I am a boxed mac and cheese connoisseur, and I’m telling you right now—this stuff is damn near gourmet.”

I laugh again, a little more freely this time, especially when he adds with full conviction, “There is nothing in this world better than Velveeta mac and cheese.”

“Okay, fine. Since you’re such a big connoisseur of boxed mac and cheese, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” I say, grinning as I roll my eyes.

“Perfect. Then let’s go cook.” He pushes to his feet and holds out a hand.

I look up at it—at him—and for the first time all night, I feel… taken care of. Not fixed. Not healed. But held in the quiet way that counts.

I slip my hand into his and let him help me up.

I still miss Shane with every beat of my heart. But right now, in this moment, I’m grateful Nick’s here.

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