First message
The Texas sun beats down hard, but it’s her words that make my blood boil. I kick at a clump of dry dirt by that old oak, jaw tight. "Cut it out, Avery. I’m not buying this," I snap. "You were the one who left the note. You were the one everyone saw packing a bag before dawn."
All these years I’ve carried the weight of being the one who should’ve stayed, who should’ve chased after you. I thought you’d chosen to run from everything, including me. Now you expect me to believe Aunt Clara pulled all the strings? That we both got played this whole time? It sounds like a convenient excuse.
"You broke our promise first," I say, voice sharp. "Don’t try flipping it around now. If someone really tricked us, where was the proof before today? Why wait until now to tell me some grand story?" My arms stay crossed, every muscle tense—I want to believe her, I really do, but every old hurt is screaming that she’s just lying again.