Rea barely slept that night.
She stared at the ceiling, Aster's last words looping in her head like a broken record.
"Don't worry about me, new girl."
Like he was shutting a door in her face. Like whatever had happened on his phone had flipped some invisible switch inside him, turning him into someone cold.
She hated it.
And worse, she hated how much she cared.
Because caring about Aster Westwood was dangerous.
She knew that.
But that didn't stop her from wanting to know what was wrong.
Didn't stop her from thinking about the way his fingers had tightened around his phone, the way his entire body had tensed, like he was bracing for something.
Something bad.
Rea sighed, turning onto her side. The glowing red numbers on her alarm clock taunted her. 2:37 AM.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Tried to ignore the strange tightness in her chest.
But Aster Westwood was impossible to ignore.
Even when he wasn't there.
---
The next day, she searched for him.
She told herself she wasn't.
But when she walked through the school doors, her eyes automatically scanned the hallways.
She didn't see him.
Not in first period. Not in second. Not at lunch.
Elena and Milo were talking about some school event, but Rea barely heard them. Her gaze kept drifting toward the cafeteria doors, waiting for Aster to walk through.
He never did.
By the time last period rolled around, she felt... uneasy.
Aster wasn't the type to skip school—not entirely. He showed up late, he disappeared when he felt like it, but he was always around.
Until today.
And that didn't sit right with her.
Not after last night.
Not after the way he had looked at his phone, like he was seeing something he didn't want to see.
By the time the final bell rang, Rea had already made up her mind.
She was going to find him.
---
Aster's house was on the edge of town.
She knew because she had heard people talk about it. The Westwood family was well-known, but not in the good way.
There were rumors.
Whispers about Aster's dad, about his older brother, about fights and trouble and things people never said outright but always implied.
Rea had never cared about gossip before.
But right now, she wished she had listened more.
Because standing in front of his house—a run-down, two-story place with chipped paint and an overgrown yard—she realized she had no idea what she was walking into.
She hesitated.
Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she walked up the cracked steps and knocked.
Nothing.
She knocked again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Rea frowned.
Then, just as she was about to turn around, the door creaked open.
Aster stood there, eyes shadowed, hoodie pulled over his head.
He looked... different.
Not in the effortless, careless way he usually did.
No smirk. No teasing glint in his eyes.
Just tired.
"What are you doing here?" he muttered.
Rea swallowed. "You weren't at school."
Aster huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. "So what?"
"So," she said, crossing her arms, "I wanted to make sure you were okay."
Aster blinked.
Like he hadn't expected that. Like it had been a long time since anyone had checked on him.
Something tightened in Rea's chest.
Aster sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Rea..."
"Don't tell me not to worry about you," she cut in.
He looked at her, something flickering in his expression.
Then he stepped back, opening the door wider.
"Come in," he said quietly.
Rea hesitated.
Then she walked inside.
---
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
It smelled like cigarette smoke and something faintly metallic. The walls were bare, the furniture old and mismatched.
Aster led her into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, rubbing his temples.
Rea sat across from him, studying his face.
Up close, she could see the bruising just below his jaw. A fresh cut on his knuckles.
"Aster," she said, her voice soft. "What happened?"
He exhaled, leaning his head back. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing."
Aster was silent.
Then, after a long moment, he said, "My brother's back."
Rea frowned. "Your brother?"
Aster's jaw clenched. "Jaxon."
She had heard the name before. Jaxon Westwood—older, meaner, worse.
Rumors followed him like shadows.
Aster hadn't talked about him before.
And now, looking at the tension in his body, the bruises on his skin—
Rea didn't have to ask if Jaxon was the reason Aster had missed school.
She already knew.
"Aster," she said carefully, "did he—"
"I don't want to talk about it." His voice was sharp, but there was something else beneath it. Something raw.
Rea hesitated.
Then she said, "You don't have to."
Aster's head snapped toward her.
Like he had expected her to push. To demand answers.
Instead, she just sat there.
Aster ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "You're weird, new girl."
Rea shrugged. "You're worse."
Aster huffed a quiet laugh.
And for the first time since she walked into his house, something in his shoulders loosened.
Rea didn't know what it meant.
But she knew one thing—
She wasn't walking away from Aster Westwood.
Not now.
Not ever.