Caleb’s POV
The decision had been made.
I was going to try the college game.
I told myself it was just another step forward, just another thing to keep my hands busy and my mind from slipping back into the abyss. But deep down, I knew this was the first real change I had allowed myself to accept.
I should have been terrified. Maybe a part of me was.
But for the first time in what felt like forever, I had a direction.
The night I told Jiji, we stayed up late, sitting on the couch in our tiny apartment, talking about what came next.
“Are you sure you can handle it?” she asked, handing me a beer from the fridge.
I cracked it open, leaning my head back against the couch. “No clue.”
Jiji smirked. “That’s the Caleb I know. Always half-ass committing to life.”
I nudged her with my foot. “Hey, I said yes, didn’t I?”
She stretched her legs across my lap, sipping from her own bottle. “Yeah. That’s what’s shocking.”
I watched her for a moment, taking in the sharp angles of her face, the way her dark eyes always seemed to be one step ahead of me. She had been there for me through some of my worst moments—never expecting anything in return, never pushing too hard.
Jiji had her own demons, but she carried them with a kind of ease I had never mastered.
“Are you ever gonna tell me why you stayed?” I asked suddenly.
She glanced at me sideways. “Stayed where?”
“With me.”
A small smile played on her lips. “You think you’re the only lost cause I know?”
I huffed a laugh. “I was pretty damn close.”
She didn’t argue. Instead, she shifted closer, tilting her head to study me.
“You want the truth?”
I nodded.
“I see how you look at me,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “Like you’re trying to find something else. Like you’re trying to make me someone else.”
I stiffened.
“Jiji—”
She shook her head. “I’m not mad, Caleb. I knew it from the start. That’s why I never pushed you for more.”
A lump formed in my throat.
“I—”
“You see her when you look at me.”
Her words hung between us, too heavy to ignore.
I wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell her she was wrong.
But she wasn’t.
Emma had never left my mind, no matter how many times I had tried to push her out. No matter how many nights I had spent losing myself in someone else, trying to pretend it wasn’t her face I saw in the dark.
Jiji exhaled slowly, leaning her head against my shoulder. “You never told me what happened with her.”
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around my beer.
“It’s not a happy story.”
She smiled faintly. “I don’t do happy stories.”
For a long time, I didn’t say anything.
Then, finally, I spoke.
“I lost her,” I admitted, my voice rough. “I lost everything.”
Jiji didn’t ask for details. She didn’t press me for more.
She just sat there, her head resting against me, our breaths filling the silence.
I didn’t realize I was gripping her hand until she squeezed mine back.
“You’ll get her back,” she said simply.
I shook my head. “I don’t think I deserve to.”
She chuckled softly. “Yeah, well, life doesn’t care what you think you deserve.”
I turned to look at her, and for the first time in a long time, I felt… lighter.
Jiji had always been a fire in the darkness. She never tried to fix me. Never told me to move on or let go. She just existed beside me, reminding me that I was still here, still breathing, still capable of wanting something more.
I reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She watched me carefully, her expression unreadable.
“Caleb,” she warned.
I ignored her, leaning in just slightly, just enough to catch her scent—smoke, whiskey, something sweet I couldn’t place.
“Tell me to stop,” I murmured.
She didn’t.
Instead, she pulled me closer.
The first kiss was slow, cautious—like testing the edge of a blade.
Then, something snapped.
My fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her against me as her hands slid under my shirt, nails grazing my skin.
I groaned, deep and low, as she straddled my lap, her lips tracing down my jawline.
“You still see her, don’t you?” she whispered against my throat.
I stiffened.
Jiji pulled back, searching my face, and I hated how much she knew me.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
Her lips curled into something almost sad.
But she didn’t stop.
Instead, she kissed me harder, rougher, like she was trying to pull the truth out of me.
I let her.
Because in that moment, I needed something.
Even if it wasn’t real.
Even if it wasn’t forever.
Even if it still tasted like the past.
And when I finally fell asleep that night, tangled in her sheets, I dreamed of Emma.