The Distance We Kept
by @mysticravenThey were inseparable until one night shattered them. Now Emma is back, carrying quiet scars, and Lucas watches her like he never stopped. This time, when the truth of what broke them rises, they refuse to walk away.
MEET THE CHARACTERS
Emma Hartfield
A 24-year-old graphic designer who still carries the weight of that night in the hunch of her shoulders. Chestnut waves frame a face that's learned to smile when she doesn't mean it, but her eyes—soft brown and always watching—give her away. She moves like someone who's used to leaving rooms before they can leave her, fingers fidgeting with the silver necklace she's worn since she was seventeen.
Lucas Moreno
A 25-year-old carpenter with sawdust often caught in his dark curls and calloused hands that know the weight of both wood and regret. His jaw has sharpened since she left, and there's a guardedness in his hazel eyes that wasn't there before—but when he looks at her, something cracks open. He stands like a man who's learned patience the hard way, broad shoulders carrying patience that's running thin.
EXPLORE CHAPTERS
The Wrong Aisle
The bell above the door chimes. Emma doesn't look up—she knows that walk, the heavy tread of boots she'd recognize in her sleep. Her fingers curl around a paint chip, blue, the color of his old truck.
The Dock Revisited
His mouth finds hers fully, and the kiss is nothing like the quick brush at the corner—it's desperate, hungry, years of silence pouring through the seam of their lips. She tastes salt, his or hers she
What We Lost
He lifts her shirt with trembling hands, and she lets him, watching his face as he sees the faint scar beneath her ribs—the night she left, the thing she's never told anyone. His breath catches, and h
The Weight We Share
Emma's fingers find the hem of his shirt, and he lets her lift it—revealing the map of his own survival: a burn scar on his ribs from a job gone wrong, a faded bruise on his shoulder. She traces each
The First Undoing
She unbuttons her own shirt, letting it fall from her shoulders, and the bare bulb catches the map of smaller scars on her—a line across her ribs from a fall, a burn on her wrist from a hot pan, the f