CHAPTER 170

**WINTER**

I shut the door behind me with a soft click, my fingers still trembling.

What the hell did I just do?

Friends?

Seriously?

God, what is wrong with me?

After everything he said—everything he did—I gave him a chance?

A chance to what?

To hurt me again?

To rip open wounds that barely managed to scab over?

He shattered your trust. Left you bleeding in the wreckage of what used to be. And the minute he looks at you with those stupidly sad eyes, you crumble like a paper house in a hurricane?

Friends.

Who does that?

Who looks their heartbreaker in the eye and says, 'Sure, let’s try again.'

Let’s pretend you didn’t shatter me into pieces.

I wanted to scream.

At him.

At me.

Mostly at me.

My eyes flicked toward the window, where Claire and Ariel were huddled together, peering out through the curtain like a pair of nosy spies.

Claire was mid-comment, animated and pointing outside. Ariel stood beside her, a soft smile on her face, completely unaware I was even back.

I took one look at the bed—and flopped face-first onto it with a groan, burying my head into the pillow like it could somehow smother the chaos in my brain.

I stayed there for a few minutes, letting the silence settle around me, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop. With a frustrated sigh, I pushed myself up, not wanting to lie there any longer, but not sure what else to do either.

My eyes stared blankly at the floor.

Why?

Why did I look into those heartbreakingly familiar eyes and say yes, even if it was barely a maybe?

He could break me again.

Through the crack in the curtains, I could hear voices outside.

Muffled laughter. A thud. A whoop that could only belong to Ro or Clark.

“Would you look at them,” Claire muttered from the window, pulling the curtain aside with zero shame.

“Those Royal morons are actually celebrating. Did being told off knock the delusion out of them, or did someone spike their soda?” Claire scoffed.

Ariel murmured, “I don’t think chips and soda count as alcohol, Claire.”

“Debatable,” Claire replied. “Have you seen Clark on sugar? It’s like watching a toddler with a death wish.”

I managed a weak exhale.

I hunched forward, elbows on my knees, when I heard Ariel’s voice behind me.

“Winter… you’re back.”

I lifted my head slightly and turned towards them.

“About time,” Claire said, pushing off the window frame.

“We were about to start a search party.”

Ariel sat on my left, tucking one leg underneath her, delicate and warm like always.

Claire plopped down on my right with a bounce, close enough that our shoulders touched.

And then silence.

“Well?” Claire said,

“What happened out there? Should I bring popcorn? Did you finally snap and throw a punch? Or did he cry? Tell me he cried.”

“Claire,” Ariel said softly, walking over and perching gracefully on my other side.

“Give her a moment.”

“A moment?” Claire huffed, folding her arms.

“I’ve been watching that soap opera unfold from the window for the last ten minutes. I deserve answers. At least tell me you gave him the glare. You know, the one that says, ‘I will ruin you emotionally and sleep peacefully afterwards.’ I taught you that look.”

“I honestly don’t even know what happened,” I muttered, shaking my head as if that would somehow make sense of it.

Claire raised an eyebrow, her arms crossing like she was getting ready to conduct a full courtroom interrogation.

"What do you mean you don’t know?"

I sighed and closed my eyes.

Where do I even start?

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it right now,” Ariel said gently, her voice soft but knowing.

“Ariel, please.” Claire waved a hand like she was swatting away a suggestion she’d already overruled.

“Of course she wants to talk. She’s practically vibrating with emotional constipation. C’mon, Winter. Get it off your chest. What happened?”

I sucked in a breath.

“He said a few sad words—and I... I gave him another chance.”

I looked up slowly, glancing from one to the other like a kid expecting judgment.

Claire’s jaw was halfway to the floor, and Ariel’s eyebrows creased in quiet concern.

“I gave in so easily… God, I’m so freaking weak.”

Claire let out a noise somewhere between a cough and a gasp.

“Wait, hold on—what? You forgave him? As in, words came out of your actual mouth? Was your soul temporarily hijacked by aliens, or did your brain just hit the emergency self-destruct button?!”

Ariel rolled her eyes at Claire, shaking her head.

“Claire, stop being so dramatic.

She tucked her legs underneath her and gave me that calm, grounding look only she could manage.

"That’s not weakness, Winter. That’s heart. It takes strength to let your guard down after being hurt. That’s brave. Don’t confuse your compassion with weakness—it’s one of the strongest parts of you.”

Claire raised an eyebrow.

“Honestly, Ariel, that’s what I call weakness. Should’ve given you a proper pep talk first. Like, ‘Winter, go down there, kick his ass, and remind him who’s in charge. You’re strong, and if he pulls that puppy-dog face, just hit him with the classic ‘nope, not today, Satan.’”

She paused, giving me a mock-serious look.

“Or, hey, you could always march back down there, change your mind, and tell him you're still not ready to forgive him—just to keep him on his toes.”

“I didn’t forgive him, okay? I said we could… try being friends. Kind of. Maybe. I don’t know—I panicked.”

Claire narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “So you tossed him a crumb, and he probably heard wedding bells. Classic.”

“Claire,” Ariel said with a sigh.

“You forgave him way too quickly Winter. He should’ve been groveling—on his knees, in the rain, full Shakespearean tragedy. You gave in after one sad monologue and some puppy eyes? Winter, come on.”

“I know,” I muttered, rubbing my face.

“I know. But when he brought up the past… everything we were… I couldn’t stop thinking about that boy. The one who loved his dad so much. The one who looked at me like I was the only person in the world who understood him. His sadness, his guilt—it just… it stuck with me. And my mind was still there, with that version of him. And I just… reacted.”

Claire exhaled slowly, her voice quieter but firm.

“Okay. So now he’s a friend. Fine. Keep him there. Don’t give him more than that. He doesn’t get to skip to the good parts again. He needs to know that you’re not the same girl, and this isn’t the same friendship.”

She looked me dead in the eye.

“Draw your lines. Make them bold. Let him earn every inch of trust back—and even then, keep the leash tight. You’re not punishing him. You’re protecting yourself. Friend title or not, make sure he feels what he broke. You can’t let him cross any boundaries, Winter. Even if he’s trying, even if he’s sorry... he’s going to have to prove himself, over and over again. You don’t owe him anything more than the space you’re willing to give him—and if he pushes for more than that, it’s okay to stand your ground.”

Ariel nodded softly, her gaze gentle but unwavering.

“Claire’s right.

“If he’s truly sorry, he’ll be patient, he’ll respect your boundaries. But remember this—you’re the one in control now. If he crosses the line, don’t hesitate to remind him of that.”

Claire, leaned back with an exaggerated sigh, 

“And for the record, if he ever dares to hurt you again, I’m going full soap opera revenge mode. Tires? Slashed. House? Egged. Locker? Glitter bombed. Not just any glitter—permanent glitter. Nobody survives that kind of sparkle.”

Her eyes glinted mischievously. “Trust me, he’ll wish he never crossed you.”

I blinked. “You actually carry glitter bombs?”

Claire grinned. “Girl, I’ve got a kit. Emergency revenge essentials. Just say the word.”

Ariel groaned. “You are a menace.”

Claire shrugged. “A loyal menace. That’s what matters.”

I let out a long sigh, some of the tension loosening in my chest.

“I just… I really hope I didn’t make a mistake.”

Claire leaned in and whispered, mock-serious,

“If you did, you’ve got two very capable lunatics ready to help you plot revenge and/or emotional damage.”

Ariel giggled beside me.

“Speak for yourself. You’re the only lunatic in this duo.”

Claire gasped, hand to her heart.

“Excuse me, I am a high-functioning lunatic. With flair. And a well-documented success rate.”

Silence lingered for a moment, everyone still caught in their own thoughts.

I flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me.

“I’m such an idiot,” I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

“I should’ve held onto my anger, made him work for it, made him pay for everything. But nope. He gives me that damn sad, puppy-dog look, and suddenly I’m just... melting like butter on hot toast.”

I groaned, completely frustrated with myself.

Claire opened her mouth, but I cut her off.

“I mean, seriously. What is wrong with me?”

“You have a heart,” Ariel said softly from the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. “It’s kind of your thing.”

“But... do you think he actually meant it? Like, really meant it?” Claire asked, her gaze sharp as she watched me, clearly trying to read every inch of my hesitation.

There was a beat of silence.

I hesitated, biting my lip.

Did I?

I’d looked into Zion’s eyes and seen something—remorse, maybe hope… maybe even fear. The raw kind. The kind you don’t fake, not even to save face.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice barely holding steady.

“I want to believe him. I want to believe he’s really trying. But... I’m scared, Claire. What if he breaks my trust again?”

Claire reached out, gently taking my hand with a small squeeze.

“Then we’ll be here. To hold you up. And possibly break his kneecaps.”

Ariel giggled. “Claire, violence is not the answer.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “It’s an answer.”

“Just not the one we should lead with,” Ariel added with a sweet smile.

I cracked a tiny, exhausted smile.

“You guys are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously loyal,” Ariel said, winking.

“And really, really good with emotional first aid.”

Ariel gently took my hand, her voice soft but steady, a warmth in her words.

“Time will tell, Winter. You can’t rush this. What matters is how he proves it and how he makes it up to you. Words are easy—it's the actions that count. He’s going to have to show you, day by day, that he’s really sorry. That he’s really changed. And tomorrow, well... tomorrow’s a new day, a new chance for him to prove that his words aren’t just that—words. It’ll take time, but if he’s sincere, he’ll make it count.”

I stared down at our intertwined fingers, the weight of her words sinking in.

“Tomorrow... yeah. We’ll see what he does then.” I swallowed, trying to push down the knot forming in my chest.

Claire, as always, added her own spin with a mischievous grin.

““Yeah, well, if he screws this up again, I’m coming for him. I’ll start with his ego and work my way down to his hairline.”

I snorted—an involuntary, ridiculous sound—but it cracked something open inside me.

Maybe I wasn’t totally okay. Not yet.

But with these two beside me?

Maybe I didn’t have to be.