Page 97 of Back to You
No, no, no. This wasn’t the plan.
I slam the car into park and all but stumble out, my breath coming too fast, my pulse hammering like a war drum against my ribs. The cold air slices through me, but I barely feel it. I was supposed to find him here. I was supposed to pull him outside, tell him everything, make him believe me.
I push open the firehouse doors, the scent of smoke and coffee hitting me instantly. The warmth of the station wraps around me, the hum of familiarity pressing in from all sides.
Boots thud against the floor, voices carry, the radio crackles faintly in the background. This place has always meant home to him. It’s supposed to lead me to him, but it doesn’t.
I grip the strap of my bag, my fingers clenching tight, my breath unsteady; this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Mateo is the first one to see me, his eyes flick over me, taking in the urgency, the desperation, the sheer fucking panic.
“Where is he?” I ask, breathless.
His brows furrow. “Not here.”
The air leaves my lungs. “But he—” I shake my head. “He’s always here.”
Mateo crosses his arms. “Not tonight.”
I press a hand against my chest, trying to keep my racing heart from breaking free. I swallow hard. “Then where-”
Mateo exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, like he’s debating whether or not to tell me, then, reluctantly, “Try the lake.”
My stomach twists. The lake. I don’t thank Mateo, I don’t say anything. I just run.
By the time I get to the lake, the sky has opened up. The downpour is relentless—thick sheets of rain hammering against the truck, my windshield wipers barely keeping up.
My stomach churns as I throw the door open and step into the storm. I should be scared. I should be second-guessing myself. But I’m not, because I see him.
He’s standing by the water, hands shoved deep into his pockets, head tilted toward the sky like he’s waiting for it to tell him something. My chest constricts, a desperate hope clawing its way to the surface—please don’t let me be too late.
“Sebastian!” I shout over the storm, my voice ragged from everything I’ve been holding in.
His head snaps toward me, eyes wide with surprise…and concern. “Mariana?” His voice cuts through the rain, sharp and worried. He starts toward me, his brow furrowed. “What the hell are you doing-”
“This is not how it was supposed to go!” I cut him off, laughing and crying all at once, my hands shaking as I pushed drenched hair out of my face.
Sebastian slows, eyes scanning my face, his own expression unreadable. “Are you okay?”
“No!” I bark out another wet laugh, because this—this was supposed to be perfect. But it’s not. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s here, I love him so much.
I step closer, not letting him get a word in. “I had a plan,” I tell him, forcing the words past the fear lodged in my throat. “It was a good plan. Solid. Thought-out. Romantic as hell.”
A flicker of something crosses his face.
“But nothing about us has ever gone according to plan, has it?” I whisper.
Sebastian stays quiet, his chest rising and falling too quickly.
I reach into my bag and pull out his hoodie. The old, worn one I stole from him when we were in high school, the one I’ve refused to throw away. The one that still, somehow, smells like him. Sebastian’s breath catches. I shove it against his chest.
His fingers curl around the fabric instinctively. “Mari, what-”
“I kept it,” I whisper. “This whole time, I kept it. Even when I left, even when I swore I was moving on. I kept it because-” I shake my head, choking on my own confession. “Because I was never moving on. Because I never stopped loving you.”
His throat bobs. Hard.
I take another step, closing the distance between us, and forcing him to look at me. “I was scared, Sebastian.” My voice is shaking. “I was scared of needing you too much. I was scared of loving you too much.” I press a fist against my chest, over my heart, over my mother’s words. “But I lost you anyway, and it wrecked me.”
