The phone’s dial tone buzzed against my ear, hollow and relentless, each ring carving through the thick silence of my room. One. Two. Three. Each one felt louder than the last, like an alarm for a mistake I couldn’t take back. My heart slammed against my ribs, so hard it felt like it might bruise. I didn’t know if I wanted Rhys to pick up or if I wanted the line to go dead, sparing me from whatever would come next. My knuckles tightened around the phone, slippery from the sweat pooling in my palm. I adjusted my grip and tried to steady my breathing, but the air in my chest wouldn’t calm—it was jittery and uneven, just like the mess I’d dragged us both into.
I should’ve texted. That would’ve been easier. Less personal, less terrifying, less prone to this silence dragging on between us like
