I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter 48 — First
The drive back to the Pritchett house was quiet. The kind of quiet that isn't peaceful, but heavy—like a fog settling in your chest. The city passed me by in a blur, lights blinking past like thoughts I didn't want to have. I didn't turn on the radio. No music. No distractions. Just me and the sound of my own breathing, steady and slow, like I was trying to convince my body that everything is okay.
The more I drove, the calmer I felt. Not happy. Not okay. Just… settled. Like my mind had given up on trying to make sense of anything and instead chose to coast, at least for now.
When I pulled into the driveway, relief hit me like a warm blanket. The house was dark. No voices. No Gloria shouting over the phone, no Jay making sarcastic comments from the couch, no Manny giving unsolicited philosophical advice. Just silence. Finally.
I let myself in and headed straight for my room.
No detours. No hesitation.
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me with a soft click. The familiar scent of my room grounded me. I kicked off my shoes, tossed my keys onto the desk, and let gravity do the rest as I dropped onto my bed like a puppet with cut strings.
The mattress caught me like it always did, and I lay there face-down, my cheek pressed into the pillow. My eyes closed. Not to sleep. Just to exist in the dark for a little while without thinking, without feeling, without reacting.
Then something pounced on my leg.
I flinched and turned just in time to see a fuzzy orange blur scramble up my chest and settle there like it owned the place.
Ghost.
The little idiot tilted his head, blinked those massive kitten eyes, and rubbed his head against my jaw with all the grace of a headbutt in slow motion.
I smiled. Couldn't help it.
"Hey, bud," I muttered, wrapping my hands gently around his tiny body. He flopped onto his back in my arms, legs sprawled in every direction like a noodle with a heartbeat.
He didn't understand heartbreak. He didn't know what a "break" meant or why his favorite human looked like he'd been hit by a bus made of feelings. But he knew I needed him, and that was enough.
My eyes drifted to the nightstand, where the laser pointer sat beside my headphones like a forgotten promise.
"No reason both of us should be down," I said.
I clicked the laser on. A red dot zipped across the floor.
Ghost went ballistic.
He launched himself off the bed and into a full sprint, chasing the dot like it was the last mouse on Earth. I lay back, watching him spin, tumble, pounce, and slide into furniture like a drunken acrobat.
And for a while, I didn't think about Sam. Or what she said. Or what it meant.
I just played with Ghost as a smile came over my face.
A few hours later, I was sitting at the dinner table with Jay, Gloria, and Manny, eating grilled chicken and mashed potatoes like nothing in my life had unexpected exploded earlier. I smiled when Manny talked about his poetry club. I laughed when Gloria made her over-the-top threats about what she'd do if any girl ever broke Manny's heart. And I even nodded along when Jay went on a short rant about how football isn't what it used to be.
I did it. I played the part. Mask on, posture straight, voice calm. You'd think I hadn't just been emotionally kicked in the chest and left gasping.
Dinner passed without a hitch, and the second my plate was cleared, I almost sighed out loud. I got through it. No awkward questions. No curious stares. Just another family dinner in the Pritchett household.
I helped Gloria with the dishes, drying them while she washed, making sure I kept my face neutral and my voice light. She didn't suspect a thing—if she had, I'd be neck-deep in unsolicited Colombian life advice and thick hugs before I could blink.
Once everything was done, I made my way back to my room, ready to collapse again and hopefully distract myself with Ghost or a dumb movie. But when I opened the door, I stopped cold.
Jay was already inside, sitting in my chair like he owned the place, one leg crossed over the other, holding a lowball glass with amber liquid in it. Scotch. Of course.
"Figured you'd show up eventually," he said without looking up.
I blinked. "How did you know?"
Jay took a sip and gave me a look. "Kid, I'm a businessman. Any business worth his salt knows how to read people. And you've been walking around tonight like someone wearing a mask two sizes too small."
I shut the door and stepped in. "So… you saw through it, huh?"
He shrugged. "Didn't take much. This is about Sam, isn't it?"
I paused for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. She… she wants a break."
Jay grimaced. "A break? What does that even mean?"
"Beats me," I muttered, walking over and sitting beside him on the bed, feeling the exhaustion return now that I wasn't performing.
Jay reached into a paper bag by the nightstand and pulled out a cold can of beer. He popped the tab and handed it to me.
"I was hoping your first drink would be for a win," he said, "but getting your heart stomped counts as a milestone too. Might as well mark it."
I looked at the can for a moment, then took it.
"Thanks," I said quietly.
Jay raised his glass. "To surviving the first one."
I clinked my can against it and took a sip. It was bitter, cold, and honestly kind of gross.
But it helped.
We sat in silence for a bit, just two guys—one young, one older—both pretending they weren't sentimental as we shared a quiet moment.