Tessa Keene was a sweetheart through and through- pure-hearted, kind, and incapable of cruelty. She didn't have much, but she had Robby, and that was all she needed. He was her rock, her safe place, the one person she could always count on. But when...
He could still hear her voice in his head, soft and hopeful: "Want to get milkshakes?"
She'd wanted something so simple, something that could've been the bridge between them again. He could've been there, been the brother she needed, and instead he'd been so lost in his own mess.
Robby pushed through the fog of his thoughts. No more excuses. He was going to make it right. He was going to show her he was still the brother who cared, who would fight for her no matter what. He had no idea how to fix everything, but he had to try. He couldn't keep letting her slip away.
As he walked closer and closer to Johnny's apartment, the milkshakes in his hands felt more like a symbol than anything else—a first step, a small attempt at redemption. His heart pounded, his thoughts a blur, but his resolve grew stronger with each passing moment.
Robby took another step, the late sun casting long shadows over the sidewalk. He looked up, ready to call her name—
And froze.
Tessa was sitting on the cracked pavement just outside the apartment, a whole rainbow of sidewalk chalk scattered around her. She had chalk dust smeared across her arms and streaking her cheeks like pastel war paint, and her knees were covered in dusty prints from sitting cross-legged so long.
And Miguel was right next to her.
They were both barefoot, giggling like idiots as they added to the mess of doodles they'd started—smiley suns, crooked stars, some kind of lopsided dragon. Miguel bumped her shoulder with his, and she let out this soft laugh Robby hadn't heard in months.
His stomach dropped.
He stepped back into the shadow of the building before either of them could notice. Not like they would have anyway. They were lost in their own little world—Tessa drawing a flower and Miguel carefully adding a ridiculous mustache to a chalk portrait that looked suspiciously like Johnny. She hit him with a piece of pink chalk. He pretended to collapse dramatically. She laughed again, bright and careless.
It gutted him.
Robby stood there, clutching the milkshakes like a fool. The one in her favorite flavor—cookies and cream with extra cookie crumbs on top—was already starting to melt. He'd made sure to get extra whipped cream. No cherry. She hated the cherry.
But it was too little, too late.
Miguel was there, waiting for the chance to replace him once more, like he always did.
It started with Johnny, didn't it? Robby's own father, the one person who should have had his back, chose some random kid from Reseda over him. He poured everything into Miguel, praised him, trusted him—like Robby had never been enough.
Then there was Sam. She said she saw the real him. She made him believe for a second that maybe he could be someone better, someone she could love. But when Miguel came back into the picture, Robby was tossed aside, just another afterthought.
And now... Tessa.
The one person in the world who had always believed in him, who looked up to him, who thought he was strong, invincible. Robby had always been there for her, the one she turned to when everything felt like it was falling apart. But now, she was smiling at Miguel, drawing with him, like he was the one who had always been there. Robby's little sister, the one he always tried to shield from the world, was moving on, and he wasn't even part of it anymore.
Robby stood there in silence, chest heaving, heart shattered.
Miguel had taken everything.
And now, watching his little sister laugh with him like she'd never been broken—like Robby had never mattered—felt worse than any punch he'd ever taken.
Robby turned abruptly, his breath catching in his throat, a sharp, painful tightness spreading through his chest. It was like someone had just shoved a fist into his ribs, squeezing the air out of him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think—just a raw ache that consumed him from the inside out.
He walked toward the trash bins behind the building, his hands trembling with the weight of everything he couldn't say, everything he couldn't fix. With one sharp motion, he threw the milkshakes into the bin. The plastic cups hit the bottom with a hollow, lifeless thud. The lids popped off, spilling melted ice cream and sticky syrup, streaking the plastic lining like spilled memories.
He stood there for a moment longer than necessary, staring into the trash as if, just maybe, if he could dig them out, rewind time, he could undo all of this. Fix the mess he had made of everything.
But he couldn't.
And that hurt more than anything.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
authors note!
He tried. He's just a little too stuck in his head.
Anyways I'm just happy to write Tessa as a happy little kid again. Her and Miguel are actually so sweet together.
