Chapter 6: Distance
It had been five days since Jake walked away from her in the rain.
Five days since Emma had heard his voice, seen his smile, or felt the steady warmth of his hand in hers.
She sat at the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the same page of her sketchbook, the pencil hovering uselessly in her hand. She couldn't focus. Every time she tried to draw, the lines came out shaky, unfinished — just like her thoughts.
I just need some time.
That sentence haunted her. Time for what? To breathe? To run? To forget?
She hated how silence felt louder than shouting. She'd rather he yelled, told her he was angry or confused. But nothing. Not even a text.
Downstairs, her mom was making dinner, but Emma couldn't bring herself to eat. Everything felt gray and tasteless.
She missed him. More than she wanted to admit.
And yet, a voice in her mind whispered: Maybe this is better. Maybe you weren't enough after all.
She closed her sketchbook with a sigh and flopped back on her bed, eyes stinging.
—
On the other side of town, Jake was drenched in sweat, his body aching from drills and laps. The soccer camp had started two days ago — early mornings, strict workouts, and endless pressure to be perfect.
His dad had been all smiles when Jake agreed to join. "You're doing the right thing," he'd said, clapping him on the back. "No distractions."
Jake had nodded, but inside, a piece of him had cracked.
Because Emma was more than a distraction. She had been his calm. His escape. His reminder that there was more to him than goals and trophies.
Now, his chest felt heavy every time he thought of her.
She hadn't messaged. And he hadn't messaged her.
It wasn't because he didn't care. It was because he cared too much. And he didn't want to hurt her with the half-broken version of himself he was becoming.
But God, he missed her laugh. Her quiet voice. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about colors and shadows.
He lay in bed that night staring at the ceiling, the glow of his phone screen illuminating one unread message she had sent before he walked away:
"I believe in you. Even when you don't."
He closed his eyes, guilt crawling up his throat.
By the weekend, the mural deadline was looming.
Emma sat alone in the art room, painting under the warm yellow light.
She had tried to recreate the lighthouse sketch — the one Jake had started before everything went wrong. She wanted to finish it for both of them.
Her brush trembled as she filled in the edges. She imagined what Jake would say. He'd probably tease her, say the shadows were too dramatic, then smile and tell her it was perfect anyway.
She blinked hard, refusing to cry again.
"Still working?" a voice asked gently.
Emma turned to find Mr. Henderson standing in the doorway, a travel mug in one hand.
She nodded, clearing her throat. "Trying to. It's harder without Jake."
He stepped closer, eyes kind. "You two made a great team. But you don't have to carry it all alone."
Emma stared at the painting, then whispered, "I miss him."
"I know," Mr. Henderson said. "Sometimes distance makes things clearer. Sometimes it makes them worse. But either way, you'll come out stronger."
Emma bit her lip. "What if we don't come out at all?"
He smiled softly. "Then you'll know you tried. And that's all anyone can ask."
—
Later that night, Emma stood on the beach alone, watching the waves crash against the shore.
She remembered their first date, the arcade, the cotton candy, the kiss that had made the world disappear.
Now it felt like a dream she wasn't sure was real anymore.
She pulled out her phone and stared at Jake's name in her contacts.
For a moment, her finger hovered over the call button.
Then — she pressed it.
One ring. Two.
Then his voice, rough and sleepy: "Emma?"
Her heart stuttered. "Hey... I wasn't sure you'd pick up."
Silence. Then, "I almost didn't."
She waited.
"I miss you," he said, voice tight. "Every day."
Her breath hitched. "Then why'd you leave?"
Jake sighed. "Because I was scared. Scared I'd ruin this. That I'd ruin you."
Emma's voice trembled. "You didn't ruin me. You just hurt me."
"I know. And I'm sorry. I didn't know how to handle it all. My dad, the pressure… But the truth is, none of it means anything without you."
Emma closed her eyes. "So what now?"
Jake was quiet for a moment. "I don't have all the answers. But I want to try. I want to come back. To us."
She let his words settle over her, then whispered, "Then meet me at the lighthouse tomorrow. Sunset."
Jake's voice was steady now. "I'll be there."
And for the first time in a week, Emma smiled through her tears.