Chapter 1

The Thanksgiving family dinner—Ethan had promised to come home with me to meet my parents.

But the night before we were supposed to leave, he roped me into his number game again, this time with my best friend Chloe.

"Zero to ten. Pick a number."

I picked zero. Chloe picked ten.

The next second, Ethan turned to me with a grin.

"Then tomorrow, on Thanksgiving, I'll spend zero hours with your parents. Sorry, Claire—I can't go home with you."

Before I could even react, he turned to Chloe.

"Your mom's coming to Boston for the holiday, right? I've got ten hours for you guys."

"Amazing!"

Chloe high-fived him, her eyes bright with the unmistakable glow of being chosen.

I stood off to the side, the whole thing landing somewhere between absurd and inevitable.

The number game was Ethan's favorite game.

But no matter what I picked, I was always the one who lost.

Valentine's Day—I picked eight, Chloe picked zero. He said eight hours meant he couldn't see me, and spent the whole day with Chloe instead.

Fourth of July—I learned my lesson and picked zero. Chloe picked five. So he canceled my plane ticket, took Chloe to Miami, and didn't come back for five days.

Every time I got upset, he told me I was being petty.

"It's just a game. Why do you take everything so seriously?"

But I should have figured it out a long time ago.

In a game with no rules, the loser was always going to be me.

This time, I didn't get angry. I didn't ask questions.

I just opened the booking app and canceled his ticket.

Then I tapped into a conversation thread I hadn't opened in a very long time.

Are you around? Come home with me for Thanksgiving tomorrow. Meet my parents.

…

Ethan noticed me staring at my phone and came over, slinging an arm around my shoulder.

"Did you cancel the ticket?"

"Tell your folks I'm sorry for me, okay? I'll visit them next year for sure."

My thumbs froze mid-sentence.

Next year?

He'd said the exact same thing last Thanksgiving.

We'd had the trip planned a month in advance. He knew my parents had spent an entire week preparing for his visit.

But the moment we were supposed to leave, Chloe mentioned she wanted to watch the sunset from a mountaintop, and suddenly he was pulling me into the number game.

When I refused to play, he picked a fight, then turned and walked out.

My phone lit up, cutting through the memory.

Yes yes yes! I'll get ready right away!!!

Okay.

I typed back, locked the screen, and stepped forward—out of Ethan's reach.

"No need."

"I already have someone to take me home."

Ethan's hand hung in midair. He stared at me for a beat, then broke into a smile.

"Mad at me?"

"This is the same game we've been playing since six years ago. How are you still not used to it?"

I blinked twice.

It was true—the first time Ethan played this game with me was six years ago.

But back then, it wasn't played like this.

Back then, he would look straight into my eyes:

"Claire, zero to ten. Pick a number."

I picked zero.

And he smiled, so deeply, so tenderly.

"Then for the rest of my life, I'll spend zero seconds not loving you."

Because of that line, I went along with the game every single time.

I couldn't pinpoint the moment it changed.

Just like I couldn't pinpoint the moment we changed.

"Okay, okay, don't be mad. Here—a peace offering."

He handed me a gift box.

I took it instinctively, before I could even process what was happening. Then Chloe shrieked.

"Oh my God—is that the sugar-free pecan pie from Harper's Bakery? My mom has been dying for this! Where did you even find it?"

I froze.

Last week on a video call, my dad had mentioned the same pie.

His blood sugar was bad—the doctor told him to cut back on sweets—but this sugar-free pecan pie was a limited edition, and he'd brought it up more than once.

I'd tried to buy it for him, but every channel was sold out.

Out of options, I'd asked Ethan for help.

At the time, he'd been completely dismissive.

"Sugar-free pecan pie? It's all just a marketing gimmick."

I'd assumed he'd forgotten. I hadn't expected him to actually remember.

A faint warmth crept through my fingertips. I was about to thank him when his next words turned my blood cold again.

"Really? Then let's give it to your mom."

He reached for the box, seemingly forgetting what he'd just said.

I didn't let go.

"I told you it was for my dad."

"I'll have my assistant track down a few more boxes later."

"Thanksgiving is tomorrow."

Ethan's hand stilled on the box. A crease formed between his brows.

"Claire."

That was the tone he always used when he was annoyed.

Chloe drifted over, hooked her arm through mine with a sweet smile.

"Forget the pie—I don't need it. Don't fight because of me, you two."

"Come on, shake and make up."

She grabbed my hand and shoved it toward Ethan.

Her nails dug into my skin. I pulled back on reflex.

She stumbled forward into Ethan's arms, and he caught her without missing a beat.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

Chloe shook her head, then looked at me with reddened eyes.

"Claire, keep the pie. Just don't be mad anymore."

"She said it's yours, so it's yours."

Ethan snatched the box from me and pressed it into Chloe's arms. When he turned back to me, his voice was sharp with impatience.

"It's one pie. Is it really worth fighting over?"

The warmth in my palms hadn't even faded, but my heart had gone completely hollow.

I looked at him and, strangely, I smiled.

"You're right. It's not worth it."

The pie wasn't worth it. Neither was he.