My Dad's Bestfriend

Chapter 178 Bittersweet Goodbye

Evelyn

Morning arrived quicker than expected, rousing me before the sun had fully risen. Clara had taken the wine bottle from my hand and lulled me to sleep, her presence soothing but only temporarily. I'd cried myself to sleep into her arms, the tears relentless. I couldn't pinpoint the exact moment I drifted off, only that I'd slept earlier than usual. My body, weighed down by stress, had forced itself into rest, but it was also the reason I was awake now-my mind refusing to grant me even a second beyond my usual routine. Clara's comfort might have dulled the ache last night, but the moment my eyes opened, the familiar sting of pain returned. It was as sharp as ever as if it had never left.

I sat up, exhaling a weary sigh. Despite the hours of sleep, I didn't feel the usual grogginess, nor the need to rub the sleep from my eyes. Surely, rest had come, but peace hadn't followed. I didn't expect it to. The fact that I'd slept at all with the storm raging inside me was a miracle in itself. So, I had no right to complain.

Dragging myself out of bed, I grabbed my phone and shot a message to Mason: "I'll be at your place within the hour. You better fucking open the door this time instead of sleeping like an asshole."

To my surprise, his response was instant: "I was just about to crash. But I'll hold off 'til you're here. Hurry up."

"Okay."

I left the chat and texted Cameron: "Pick me up from Mason's. I'm spending the day with him." It wasn't entirely true, but close enough. Spending the day at Mason's meant watching him sleep through his ridiculous snores, his sleep-talking, and occasionally yelling out some raunchy dialogue mid-dream. I'd witnessed it more times than I could count. It no longer fazed me. I could deal with Mason shouting the name of some guy he dreamt was shoving a cock down his throat-it was just background noise at this point.

After freshening up, I threw on a simple t-shirt and shorts, but I wasn't about to head to Cameron's birthday party looking like I'd crawled out of a pit. I packed a club dress and some makeup essentials into a bag. No matter how lost I felt, I wasn't going to show up looking like the mess I had become, especially after last night's sob fest.

Nothing in my life made sense anymore. I was making the dumbest decisions, grasping at anything that might numb the pain, knowing full well it wouldn't. But I couldn't stop myself.

I was a heartbroken woman, stumbling through the motions, trying to heal, yet breaking along the way.

I didn't know where I stood in the chaos of my own life. Avoidance had become my constant companion-fleeing from the truth, ignoring my heart's desires, silencing the voice of my soul's yearning. Maybe I needed time. Time to figure it all out. Time to stop running. I'd always avoided facing reality, and now was no different. But soon, I'd have to confront everything.

"Taking time for yourself is okay, Evelyn," I whispered as I stepped out of my room. "It's okay."

But the fragile comfort I had tried to cling to dissolved as my gaze fell on the slightly ajar door of Jacob's room.

He hadn't left yet.

rustle inside told me he was still

shouldn't see him. I couldn't. It would

me

Yeah, I shouldn't—

my intentions. I found myself standing in front of Jacob's door, my breath catching in my throat. Don't do

Don't fucking do this.

part of me listened.

probably knew it was

should go. I should walk

his voice came, low and soothing,

Fuck.

"Come in."

of his voice tugged at my heartstrings, pulling

will I ever live without

on his open suitcase. Clothes were neatly folded inside, though some still lay scattered across the room-he wasn't quite finished packing. He stood a few feet away, looking at me, his expression unreadable. "Hey," he whispered. He didn't move closer, as if giving me space, though the tension in his body betrayed the restraint he was fighting. I knew

indifference, the facade I was wearing for both our

glanced back at the scattered clothes

I managed to ask,

tone casual, though the awkwardness between us

foreign and wrong like something had fractured between us that neither of us knew

I rubbed

he wasn't looking. I wasn' sure when I'd see him like this again his messy hair, those pink

harder.