Anastasia barely had time to process the knock at her door before it swung open, and there he was—Warren.
"What are you doing here? How did you even find me?" she blurted out, heart pounding.
"I needed to check on you so I asked around," Warren said, stepping inside like he belonged there. His voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp, scanning her like he could see straight through the walls she'd put up. "After everything with Matt… you don't seem okay."
Anastasia blinked, caught off guard by his persistence. "You asked around?"
He shrugged, unapologetic. "Until someone told me where you were."
She exhaled, feeling something oddly warm at the thought that he had searched for her. "It's been a rough few days," she admitted, sinking onto the couch. After a beat, she whispered, "I'm not okay. Jenny broke up with him due to a letter she allegedly received from me, so Matt thinks I betrayed him."
Warren frowned. "Because of the letter?"
She nodded. "He thinks I sent it."
"That's bullshit," Warren snapped. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"
Her throat tightened. "NO! But tell that to my brothers." She looked down, hands clenched into fists on her lap. "They don't believe me."
Warren shifted closer, his arm sliding around her shoulders in a way that was meant to be comforting—but it sent a shiver down her spine for an entirely different reason. "Then we'll prove it."
She swallowed hard. "Why do you even care? You don't know me."
His gaze softened. "I know enough."
The air between them thickened. Time stretched, and suddenly, she was hyper-aware of his face—too close, too tempting. His eyes locked onto hers, and for one dangerous second, she thought he might kiss her. Worse, she thought she might let him.
Her breath hitched. "Warren, I—I have a boyfriend."
His jaw tightened, and he pulled back immediately, guilt flashing across his face. "I crossed a line."
"No, I… I let it happen." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I like you, but I'm with Dylan."
A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he nodded. "Of course, I do apologise. I didn't mean to give you a bad impression of me."
She just softly smiled at him. "I would never think bad of you. Friends?" she asked while holding out her hand out.
He took her hand and shook it while he looked back at her and gave her the sweetest smile, "The best of friends."
They spent the rest of the night strategizing, talking, anything to ignore the tension buzzing between them. And for the first time in weeks, Anastasia felt lighter—like maybe, just maybe, she wasn't completely alone in this mess.
But weeks passed. Months. No progress. And Dylan… Dylan was slipping through her fingers.
Since spring break, he'd been different—distant. Always gone, always avoiding her questions. Every time she asked about the fishing trip, about what Matt and Sean had told him, he brushed her off. The fights got worse. His excuses got sloppier. Late nights, vague answers. "Studying," he claimed. "Working with your dad."
Bullshit.
The weight of it crushed her. Dylan was pulling away, her brothers hated her, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't prove she was innocent. She was drowning but Warren managed to keep her afloat. He was there when she needed a friend, a shoulder to cry on and even helped her study for final exams. Their bond as friends only grew and kept her sane.
Graduation invitations went out. Her father? Busy. Matt? No response. Sean? A hard no, because he still thought she was a traitor. That left her with Rose, Billy, Warren who became one of her closest friends… and Dylan. At least, that's what she thought.
Until she walked across that stage, accepted her degree, and saw his empty seat.
Her heart caved in on itself. But before the pain could consume her, she forced a smile for her friends. They were cheering, clapping—but Warren? Warren was seething. His jaw was locked tight, eyes dark as he stared at the chair where Dylan should've been.
When she met up with them afterward, Rose threw an arm around her. "You did it! Let's celebrate!"
Anastasia tried to smile, but it barely reached her eyes. "I think I'll stay in."
"Fuck that," Billy snapped. "If he can't be here for you today? Fuck. Him. We drink."
Warren nodded in agreement, silent but furious.
Anastasia sighed. "I just… I need to talk to him first. Maybe he's with my dad at the trial—"
"Oh, come on, Ana—" Rose started, but Billy gave her a look that shut her up.
"You sure you don't want us to come with you?" Warren asked, lingering as Rose and Billy headed for the car.
"I'll be fine. Then I'll meet you guys, and we'll drink until we puke." She forced a grin.
Warren hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. See you soon."
The second she got into her car, the fake smile dropped. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, white-knuckled.
Dylan fucking Fischer had better have a good excuse.
As she stormed into the house, she noticed that Beth wasn't around, so she threw her bag and graduation coat onto the couch. She would wait until her father to get back from the court and se if Dylan is with him. Then, from upstairs, she heard it.
Voices.
Moaning.
She tilted her head in confusion. Her dad was at the trial. Britney? Britney was supposed to be at military school.
The realization hit like a sledgehammer.
'No. No, no, no, no…'
She wasn't even aware of her own movements as she climbed the stairs, each step harder to take than the last. The sounds grew louder. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Her mind raced through the worst possibilities—
Matt? No. He wouldn't.
But as she reached the door, something in her snapped. She didn't knock. Didn't hesitate. Just shoved it open.
And her world ended.
"Dylan?"
He was in Britney's bed.
With Britney.
Time stopped. Her lungs forgot how to breathe. Her brain short-circuited. But her heart? Her heart shattered into something beyond repair.
Dylan's head snapped toward her, eyes wide, mouth opening—but nothing came out.
Because what the fuck could he possibly say?
Britney smirked.
Anastasia swayed, like the ground had been ripped from under her.