𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎

The door to Doose's Market jingled as Brooke stepped inside, the quiet chime almost absurd against the storm inside her head.

It was the kind of day where even candy couldn't fix things. But Sienna was trying.

After dinner, her mom had stood at the foot of the stairs with her hands on her hips and said in that no-nonsense voice Brooke could never say no to:

"We're doing a movie night. Go to Doose's. Candy, chips, soda — I don't care if you clean the place out. We're watching Sabrina. You're getting comfort food and your favorite Audrey Hepburn movie, and we are going to sit in our pajamas . You need this."

Brooke hadn't argued. Because deep down, she did need it.

She was still trying to crawl out of the emotional wreckage of Jess Mariano.

So here she was — hoodie on, tote bag slung over one shoulder, hair in a lazy claw clip that had started slipping halfway through the walk.

Her Converse squeaked slightly on the linoleum floor as she made her way to the snack aisle, her steps slower than usual, like her feet weighed more than they should.

The market was quiet, just the low hum of the refrigerator section and Taylor's voice somewhere up front discussing yogurt expiration dates with Mrs. Landry.

Brooke kept her head down and started loading up: chocolate-covered pretzels, sour gummy worms, kettle corn, peanut M&Ms.

All the things she usually swore off but clung to when the world felt like it was tilting sideways.

Then, as she turned the corner of the next aisle — she stopped short.

There he was.

Jess Mariano. Standing next to a shelf of cereal boxes like some absurd ghost from a life that had started to feel like a fever dream.

Denim jacket, dark curls, book tucked under his arm — like nothing had changed.

Her throat tightened. His eyes met hers.

And for a second — just one — something flickered across his face.

She turned around and started walking the other way.

Too fast. Too obvious.

She heard his footsteps before he spoke.

"Brooke."

She kept walking.

"Hey — Brooke, wait a sec."

She stopped when he caught up beside the canned goods.

Her basket was half-full. Her heart was more than that — full of things she didn't want to feel.

She turned to him slowly, her expression guarded, her voice clipped.

"Why are you talking to me?"

Jess shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his jaw tight. "Because I didn't expect to see you here."

Her brows lifted slightly. "You don't work here."

"I'm allowed to buy cereal."

"Great. Enjoy your cereal." She turned again.

He followed. "Her name's Shane," he said, suddenly. His voice wasn't defensive — more like... explanatory. Uselessly so.

Brooke froze. She didn't face him yet, but her body stilled.

Then she turned.

"Good for her," she said quietly. Her voice was cool. Controlled. But not detached. There was heat beneath it — not anger, something else. Hurt. Deep and unresolved.

Jess exhaled slowly. "I didn't know I owed you a press release about my personal life."

She blinked at him.

Then, finally, she said it: "I'm just surprised." Her voice trembled slightly now. "Surprised that you could be with anyone so easily after... after everything."

Jess looked down, then back up. "Everything?"

Brooke's arms dropped to her sides, the tote bag bumping her leg.

And then, something inside her broke open.

"I came to New York to see you, Jess." Her voice cracked, but she didn't stop. "I kissed you. At Sookie's wedding. Three times. I skipped school . I got on a train just to see you in a whole ass different state . And we shared a hotel room — at the inn do you remember that night? Because I do. Every second."

He didn't say anything.

Brooke's voice sharpened. "And then you just... disappeared. No text. No call. Not even a note. Like I made it all up. Then you came back we kissed and then you ghosted me !"

"You stopped answering me, too," he said suddenly. His voice had that signature Jess edge now — a little cold, a little angry, but wounded underneath.

She laughed, bitterly. "Because you left, Jess. What was I supposed to do? Beg?"

He stepped closer. "You didn't call."

She stared at him. "Neither did you."

"Did the postman lose my letters?" he snapped. "What about a fruit basket? A smoke signal? You didn't send a thing."

Brooke's fists clenched. "Don't turn this around on me. You vanished first. I was there. I showed up. And you disappeared."

Jess shook his head like he couldn't believe they were having this conversation in the middle of a market aisle.

"You think this was easy for me?"

"No, Jess. I don't think anything is ever easy for you. That's the problem." Her voice lowered. "You always run. And then you make it seem like I'm the one who walked away."

He was quiet.

The air between them went still.

She looked up at him — really looked at him.

"I liked you," she said. "No - I like you. I still do. And you disappeared. Like you always do."

That silence grew louder.

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

She turned away.

"Brooke—"

But she was already walking again. Faster this time.

She didn't look back.

She didn't need to.

Because she could feel it — the weight of everything they were and everything they couldn't be — pressing on her chest like gravity.

And this time, she didn't stop at the end of the aisle.

She walked straight out of Doose's.

And the bell above the door jingled behind her like the final note of a song they never finished.