Page 71 of Life After You

“Never say goodbye.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my throat tightening as the words settle deep.

I don’t want to.

I don’t want to walk out that door, don’t want to leave her behind again, don’t want to put miles between us when she’s the only thing that feels like home.

But the clock is still ticking.

And soon, I won’t have a choice.

I lift my head, searching her eyes,

I kiss her slow and deep, pouring everything into it, everything I can’t say.

"No matter the miles, no matter the time—every song I sing belongs to you.” She exhales against my mouth, her hands sliding across my back, holding me like she’s afraid to let go.

“I know you have to leave soon. I’m not stupid. I’m not some needy child, even if I don’t want you to ever leave me after having you, Logan. But just promise me, that you will never say goodbye. It’s too final. Too… cursed.”

Her voice trembles, the words weighed down with the vulnerability she’s so rarely allowed herself. I trace one of her tears as it slides down her cheek, and the sting of it hits me harder than I expected. I kiss the trail, tasting the bittersweet fluid, my chest tightening as I pull her closer.

She runs a hand across my chest, and fuck, I feel myself stirring—coming back to attention with her touch. She notices, of course, a sly smile teasing across her lips as she quirks one brow.

“Looks like your dick isn’t ready to part either.”

I laugh, low and rough, and lean in closer, my lips brushing hers in a soft, teasing kiss. “Never.”

There’s no rush this time. No urgency to get to the end. We move slowly, deliberately, savoring each moment, each caress, each breath shared between us. Our eyes lock, and the world outside of this room disappears. It’s just us.

I move against her, not with desperation, but with purpose—patient, passionate. She arches beneath me, her hands roaming, tugging me closer, and I lose myself in the rhythm we create together.

And in the silence between our breaths, our heartbeats—our song plays on, a melody that’s never been written down but feels more real than anything else. Perfect, even in its imperfection.

I don’t want to move.

Mac is still tucked against me, her body warm, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin. I could stay like this forever—her in my arms, my world anchored to this moment. But forever isn’t an option. Not yet. My phone’s been blowing up for a while, and I’ve ignored it.

I press a slow kiss to her temple before exhaling. “Come on, angel. Get dressed.”

She groans softly, burying her face into my chest. “Why?”

“There’s somewhere I need to go. And I want you to come with me.”

She peeks up at me through thick lashes, curiosity flicking in her light eyes. “Where?”

“You’ll see.”

“Who’s calling nonstop?” she groans, stretching before she rolls out of bed and grabs a pair of jeans and a tank top. I force myself to look away as she pulls her shirt over her head because if I don’t, I’m liable to change my mind, push her back into bed, and say fuck it to everything else.

“Uhh.” I glance at the phone, seeing notifications from all the guys. I click open the latest one, and a video pops up.

“Hey Logey bear, I made it back alright. Was a really cool night, met someone interesting. Anyway, not possessed. Alive, and the morning birds are bright and sound a little…” There’s a muffled grunt, and Trey, who had been standing at the front door to Rosewood, smiles with glee. The video cuts off when the next one starts.

It’s now all the guys in the kitchen. Trey is tied to a chair, and Sam, Clay, Chace, and Dean are sitting around him, clearly enjoying the scene.

“Just grabbing some coffee, then heading out for some bits. We’re taking the man-child with us. We grabbed him when we heard him giggling in the hallway. Not sure how much he saw when you and Mac were doing your thing, but he’s got this stupid grin on his face anyway.” The ceiling shakes, and Clay and Dean mutter about needing to update the Rosewood because it’s too old to keep up with the demands of young couples.

I don’t blush, but I feel pretty damn close. Mac looks like she’s died, her mouth hanging open as she watches the video.

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