Chapter 5 Ghosts in the Mirror

Savannah hadn't meant to dream about Lubbock.

But that night, after the rail yard, the memories came like a storm.

The sound of screeching tires. The crushing silence of a hospital waiting room. Her father's hand on her shoulder, too firm, too cold.

She woke up tangled in her sheets, breath caught in her throat.

It had been three years.

Three years since the crash. Three years since her brother, Aaron, left behind nothing but shattered glass and a closed casket.

She hadn't told anyone at UT about it. Hadn't spoken his name outside the pages of her journal. And now here was Jace Callahan, scraping up pieces of her soul with nothing but a crooked smile and a stubborn heart.

She needed space.

Distance.

A reminder of who she was before him.

---

The next morning, she skipped her journalism seminar and drove west, toward the small town of Mason where her aunt lived. Where life was slower, and the ghosts didn't howl quite as loudly.

She didn't tell Jace she was leaving. She didn't even bring her laptop.

For two days, she sat on her aunt's porch swing, drinking sweet tea and pretending to be okay.

Until her phone buzzed.

Jace Callahan:

> You ghostin' me, Red?

She stared at the screen, unsure whether to answer. But her fingers moved anyway.

Savannah:

> Needed a break.

Jace:

> From me?

Savannah:

> From everything.

There was a pause.

Then:

Jace:

> Just say the word and I'll stop knocking.

And somehow, that made her chest ache more than any silence.

---

Back in Austin, Jace was unraveling.

He hadn't realized how quickly Savannah had become part of his routine-part of his peace. Without her, the days felt louder. Angrier.

He skipped two classes. Got into a shouting match with his coach. Took his bike out onto the practice track and rode until his arms went numb.

People started whispering.

> "Callahan's losing it again."

> "He's probably back on the pills."

He wasn't.

Not yet.

But he knew where they were. Knew the number of the guy who could get him more.

Instead, he drove out to the edge of the ranch and stared at the stars.

And for the first time in a long time, he prayed.

---

Savannah returned Sunday night, pulled into the student parking lot, and found a note tucked under her windshield wiper.

One sentence.

"Next time you run, take me with you."

Her heart clenched.

She walked to her dorm in a haze, her fingers curling around the paper like it might vanish.

Inside, Bianca looked up from her bed, laptop open.

"You good?" she asked.

Savannah didn't answer. She just sat down, pulled out her journal, and started to write.

She wrote about Aaron.

She wrote about the crash.

She wrote about guilt and grief and how she'd built a fortress out of straight A's and press passes just to keep herself from breaking.

And then she wrote Jace's name. Over and over, until the letters blurred.

---

The next day, they saw each other again.

In the hallway outside the library.

He looked like he hadn't slept. Hair tousled. Hoodie pulled low.

"Hey," he said, voice low.

"Hey."

"I meant what I wrote."

She nodded, throat tight.

"I don't scare easy," he added.

"That's not the problem."

"Then what is?"

Savannah looked up, eyes shining.

"If I let you in... you might never get out."

He stepped closer. "Maybe I don't want to."

And just like that, her walls cracked again.

Because maybe-for once-she didn't want to hold them up either.

---