Page 153 of After All This Time

But when she looks at me, I see it. The perfection is a lie. Her eyes betray her; those deep brown pools I've drowned in more times than I can count are filled with everything she isn't saying. She's holding herself together, but it's fragile, and the cracks are visible the closer she gets.

And I can't take it.

"I don't want to do this," she whispers, her voice quivering under the weight of it all.

That crack in her resolve splits me wide open, but I shove my own shit to the side because this isn't about me. Not right now.

I set my mug down on the counter and pull her into my arms. She's trembling, barely holding it together, and when her head falls against my chest, I hold her like I can stop the world from pulling her away from me.

"Yes, you do." The words ghost across her hair as I press my lips to her forehead.

The catch in her breath, that little hiccup of pain, guts me. I haven't seen her cry like this, not since her dad died, and it's ripping me apart.

"This is your dream, Firefly. Don't let yourself forget that. Not for one fucking second."

Her fingers twist in my shirt, clinging onto me like she never wants to let go. "I just… I don't…" she starts, her voice shattering.

"I know, baby. I know." My voice cracks with her pain, and I tighten my hold, pressing her head closer to my chest as I bury my face in her hair. "Fuck, trust me, I'm with you. Every step of this. But this—us—will still be here when you come home."

When she tilts her head back to meet my gaze, her dark eyes shimmer with tears, looking like tiny broken diamonds that are as beautiful as they are devastating.

"It's always been us, right?"

"Yeah. Always," I say, forcing a smile I don't quite feel.

It's always been us, but this time feels different. We both know there will be FaceTime calls and messages, but none of it will replace the way she fills the space around me.

It'sgoing to hurt like hell, but I hold on tighter anyway until the world pries her from my arms. Because that's what love is—this beautiful, brutal thing that bleeds you dry and fills you up all at once. And sometimes loving someone means watching them walk away for a time, even when it feels like they're taking your heart with them.

The knock on the door comes like a knife to the chest, cutting through the already fragile moment between us. She pulls away from my arms reluctantly, and the loss of her warmth is instant.

Logan's on the other side of the door when I open it, wearing that easy smile that doesn't match the heaviness of this moment.

"Hey," he says, grabbing a couple of her bags. "I'll get these in the car. You good with the last one?"

"Yeah, I got it," she replies with a forced smile, but Logan's face shifts, his easy demeanor slipping. It's obvious he knows we're not okay—not even close—and that we could probably use a moment before this goodbye crashes into us.

"See you soon, Tobias. I promise we'll look after her."

"I know." The words come out rough, but I mean them. I don't doubt him, but that doesn't make this easier. "Have a good tour, man."

He nods and walks off, leaving me standing in the doorway. When I turn back to Amelia, she's still standing there, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. But then one breaks free and trails down her cheek.

I step toward her, brushing the tear away with my thumb. "These are rare from you," I say with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the weight crushing us both.

"Don't you dare tell anyone," she says, her lips twitching into a weak smile even as another tear falls.

"Wouldn't dream of it. You'd have my balls."

"Correct." Her laughter fades, and whenI open my arms, she fallsrightinto them.

"I'm so proud of you, Mills. So fucking proud." My voice cracks, but I don't care. She needs to know. She has to know that she's everything to me. That I believe in her more than I believe in anything else.

Neither of us moves to pull away, but I know if I don't let go, she won't either. "Now go," I whisper against her hair. "Fuckingkillit, and then come back to me, okay?"

She nods, a small, tear-filled smile playing on her lips as she steps back.Her hand wraps around the last bag, and when she opens the door, she turns and gives me a smile that breaks what's left of my heart before she walks out. She doesn't look back as the door clicks shut, but I stand there like a fucking statue, staring at it like my world might walk back through.

Standing here barefoot in black sweatpants, I rake my hands through my hair, hating myself for holding back the one thing I should've told her. The one truth that's been eating me alive for weeks.

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