Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 6

But right now, all I could feel was how wrong that safety felt. How it wasn’t comfort, it was suffocation. A quiet tolerance of my worst parts, never demanding I be better. Just letting me be… broken.

And maybe that’s what scared me.

Because she knew all my sharp edges and still reached for me, but maybe only because she didn’t mind bleeding.

And maybe I didn’t want someone who’d bleed for me. Maybe I wanted someone who’d make me stop cutting myself open in the first place.

The silence stretched between us, heavy but not awkward. Olive’s hand stayed in mine, and I wasn’t sure if she was holding it to comfort me or to hold me back.

The car hummed under us as she drove through the quiet streets, past rows of houses with trimmed hedges and lives that seemed too neat to be real. I stared out the window, still thinking about what she said.

“You always take his side,” I muttered.

She glanced at me. “No, I take your side. That’s why I told you not to disrespect him.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s not.”

I looked at her, jaw clenched. “You don’t get it, Olive. He looks at me like I’m a waste of space. Like I’m some failed draft pick. The only time he even used to care was when I played well. Now he says it’s useless. That I’m useless.”

She didn’t say anything. Just pressed her foot a little deeper into the gas and exhaled like she’d heard this all before, which, to be fair, she had.

“I’m trying,” I added, quieter this time. “I am. Doesn’t he see that?”

“Maybe he does,” she said, her voice softer. “Maybe he just… doesn’t know how to show it.”

“That’s such a bullshit excuse.”

She finally pulled over on the side of a road lined with trees. No houses. No people. Just us, and the shadows stretching out like they were listening in.

The engine cut off. The sudden silence buzzed in my ears.

She turned to face me. “Drew.”

Her voice cracked. I hated when she used that tone. Like I was glass and she was the only thing keeping me from shattering.

“I don’t want to see you become your dad,” she said. “Angry. Bitter. Cold. Lashing out because the world didn’t hug you enough.”

That hit harder than I wanted to admit.

I looked at her then, not as the girl who always showed up, not as my best friend. But as a person who had every reason to walk away from my mess and hadn’t.

And God, I hated her for it.

Not really. But sort of.

“Why do you stay?” I asked before I could stop myself.

She blinked. “What?”

“You know how fucked up I am. Why do you stay?”

Her lip twitched, like she was holding back something real. “Because you’re not as fucked up as you think. You just… don’t know how to love people without testing if they’ll leave first.”

Ouch.

I swallowed, mouth dry. “You make it sound like I’m some tragic anti-hero.”

She smiled faintly. “You’re not a hero. You’re just… Drew.”