Page 93 of Back to You
Before I can talk myself out of it, my hand moves to the door handle, when suddenly…
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I freeze. The voice behind me is sharp, rough, frustrated. My stomach knots itself into oblivion before I even turn around. Slowly, I shift in my seat, forcing my breath to stay steady, but the second I meet his eyes, I know that’s not possible. Andres.
His arms are crossed tight over his chest, his firehouse jacket hanging open, his uniform underneath slightly wrinkled, like he’s been working for hours.
His stance is rigid, shoulders squared, his expression unreadable at first—just flat, distant. The longer he looks at me, the more his face hardens, something sharper flashing behind his eyes. “You’ve got some nerve, Mari.”
The words hit like a slap. I swallow hard. “Andres-”
“No.” He shakes his head, stepping closer, his voice like flint striking steel.
“You don’t get to show up here and act like this is normal. Like you didn’t walk away from him without a second glance.”
I flinch, because he’s right.
Andres exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, his frustration crackling in the air between us. “Damn it, Mari. Do you have any idea what it was like watching him fall apart over you for the second time?” His voice isn’t just angry now…it’s hurt. “What it was like seeing him show up to every shift looking like he hadn’t slept, pretending like he was fine when we all knew he wasn’t?”
Guilt digs its claws deep, twisting inside my ribs, my throat, my stomach. “I know I hurt him,” I whisper.
Andres lets out a sharp bark of laughter, but it’s hollow, bitter. “Yeah? You do?” His jaw clenches, his eyes burning into mine. “You just now figured that out?”
I bite my lip, looking anywhere but at him.
But he’s not done. “You didn’t just hurt him, Mari.” His voice lowers, the words hitting deeper. “You fucking broke him.”
My chest caves in. I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides, my whole body tensing, bracing for impact. “I thought I was protecting myself.”
Andres lets out a sharp, disbelieving breath. “By what?” he demands, his voice rising. “Destroying him first?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. “I didn’t mean to-”
“Didn’t mean to?” Andres scoffs, cutting me off. “You think that matters?” His voice is razor-sharp, but there’s something underneath it, something raw. “You know, I used to think you were good for him.”
The words slice through me like a blade, because I had thought so too—once.
Andres holds my gaze, his jaw tight. “But now? Now, I don’t know if you’re just here to finish the job.”
A sharp, stinging breath catches in my throat, I can’t do this, I can’t take this. The pressure is too much, the guilt is too much, the regret is too much. “I love him.” The words rip out of me before I can stop them.
Andres stares at me. I breathe hard, my hands shaking. “I love him,” I say again, stronger this time. “I never stopped. And I…I know I don’t deserve him, I know I don’t deserve a second or third chance, but I…” My voice breaks, tears burning behind my eyes. “I just can’t let him go.”
Andres doesn’t look away. For a moment, I think he’s going to tell me to leave, to walk away, to let Sebastian move on. Maybe, a few weeks ago, he would have.
But then, his expression shifts, frustration melting into something else, something quieter, something knowing. “You better be damn sure about that, Mari.” His voice is low, serious. Unforgiving. He’s giving me one shot, one chance to prove I mean what I say, because Sebastian deserves better than hesitation. He deserves someone who chooses him. Every. Damn. Day.
I nod, pressing my lips together. “I’m sure.”
Andres studies me a moment longer, then lets out a long, slow breath. “Then fight for him.”
My pulse stutters.
Andres tilts his head toward the firehouse. “You want him back?” His lips quirk, but there’s no humor in it. “Then do something about it.”
I look at the firehouse again, my heart hammering. But I already know, I’m not ready. Not yet, not like this. I meet Andres’ eyes again, my throat tight but steady. “I will.”
He nods. “Good.” Then—softer, but with a warning edge—“Don’t break him again, Mari. He can’t take you breaking his heart again.”
