Page 67 of After All This Time

Side note—I'm never taking advice from Levi again. Ever. And if he tells Lola I took out a client, I'll kill him. Then she'll kill me. But at least I won't have to see that look on Amelia's face again.

"Why don't you just date someone else and get over the infatuation the old-fashioned way? Or better yet, date them both and see if it's just lust or something more."

I didn't even tell Levi who was on my mind—just that someone was. And, in my infinite wisdom, I thought the first part of his advice seemed… fine.

Distract myself. Move on. Get over it.

I didn't just take bad advice—I weaponized it against myself. Against her and against us.

Because the second I saw Amelia's face, I knew.

"Thanks for letting me use your bathroom. I just really hate public restrooms," Chloe says with a small smile, her voice soft as she steps closer to me.

"No problem." My eyes dart to the clock on the wall and then back to her. "Look, I haven't been drinking, so I can drive you home if you want."

She hesitates, eyes scanning my face for something I'm not offering, and then steps toward me, her heels clicking against the floor. "Or I could stay if you want." Her hands come up to rest lightly on my shoulders, and I let her touch me—for a second. And just like I knew it would, my entire body recoils because these aren't the hands I want.

"I've got a long day tomorrow, so I'm going to call it a night." It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either.

The truth is messy, complicated, and standing right on the other side of a locked door in the cutest pair of cloud-printed pajamas.

"Okay. Maybe another time." She turns toward the door, reaching into her bag. "I'll call my friend to come get me."

She glances back at me, her smile thin and sharp, and I know with absolute certainty I'll never see her again. I lean back against the wall, running a hand down my face and closing my eyes.

I've done a lot of stupid shit in my life, but this takes the fucking crown, and the truth is, I didn't distract myself. I didn't move on, and I didn't get over anything.

I hover outside Amelia's bedroom, just staring at the closed door.Every instinct I have tells me to leave her alone, but the part of me that can't stand how things endedtonight won't let me walk away.

So I knock, and when she doesn't answer, I push the door open anyway.

Her room is dark and quiet, and I step inside, turning on her nightlight. It bathes the room in a soft purple hue, enough for me to see her curled under the blanket, like she's trying to hide from the world. My chest tightens at the sight, and I step closer, standing at the edge of her bed because there's no way I'm leaving this unresolved.

She should know me better than that.

Shedoesknow me better than that.

She lets out a low groan and shifts slightly before sitting up, her hair a tousled mess of brown waves that she drags a hand through. "What are you doing?"

Fuck. What am I doing?

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay," I say, but the words fall flat the second they leave my mouth. It sounds weak, even to me, but it's the truth. I'm not here to fight. I just need to know we're not ending the night like this.

She narrows her eyes at me, leaning back against the headboard, arms crossed—radiating pure feminine rage. And as tempting as she looks right now, it's impossible to ignore the way I've made her feel.

"I was fine until you came in and chose to wake me."

"Don't lie to me, Mills."

"I'm tired, Tobias. Go back to your girl."

First off, hearing her call someone elsemy girlfeels wrong.

Like, bone-deep, stomach-twisting wrong.

Secondly, this version of her? The one who's acting like she doesn't care? That's not the Mills I want.

I want her stripped bare. I want her rage, her fire—I want her.

---