I exhale sharply. “Thinking about how the hell I’m supposed to show him that I mean it this time.”
Anna leans against the counter, studying me over the rim of her coffee mug. “So you’re done running?”
I nod. “Completely.”
She tilts her head. “Good. Now what’s your plan?”
My stomach tightens. I stare down at my hands, my thumb running over a loose thread in the cuff of Sebastian’s hoodie. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.”
Anna doesn’t say anything for a moment, then—“Well, what are you trying to tell him?”
I glance at her. “That I love him.”
“Okay, but he already knows that.” She sets her coffee down on the counter. “He didn’t let you go because he didn’t think you loved him, Mari. He let you go because you didn’t choose him.”
The words hit hard. I knew that , of course. But hearing it out loud makes me feel heavier.
Sebastian had always been steady, always sure, always willing to fight for us, and I had let fear decide for me. I swallow, pressing my hands flat against the counter. “Then that’s what I have to show him. That I’m choosing him.”
Anna nods. “So what’s your version of a grand gesture?”
My mind starts flipping through every memory I have of us. The late nights at the diner, the way he used to grab my hand at stoplights, squeezing once, twice, three times like a secret message only we understood.
The way he would look at me, like I was something sacred. We had so much, so much that mattered. Suddenly, it hits me...a moment, a memory, a promise I never kept. I straighten, my breath catching in my throat.
Anna notices immediately. “What?”
I look at her, my pulse kicking up. “I know what I’m going to do.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
I nod, heart pounding. “I’m going to prove it to him.”
CHAPTER 45
Mariana
Ihave a plan, a real plan, not just words, not just a half-hearted apology—because words can be empty, words can be said in a moment of desperation and taken back just as easily.
Sebastian deserves more than that; he deserves proof, he deserves action. He deserves to see that I’m not just saying I won’t leave again—I’m showing him. I’m choosing him, with every single step, with every single breath.
I drive through town with my heart lodged in my throat, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles ache. It has to be perfect. It’s late, but I know where he’ll be. The firehouse. He’s always at the firehouse on Wednesdays.
The hoodie sitting in the seat beside me, his hoodie, the one I never gave back. The one I’ve kept through every mistake, through every lonely night, through every moment I tried to convince myself that walking away was the right choice.
The book tucked into my bag, his favorite one, with the note I wrote inside, the one he left on my nightstand after the first time he told me he loved me.
The words I’ve been rehearsing in my head over and over again, the things I should have said before I ever let my fear win.I don’t just want to tell him I love him. I want him to feel it. I want him to see it in the things I kept, in the pieces of him I never let go of, in the way I’m standing here now, ready to fight for him. This is more than just an apology, it’s a promise.
I swallow hard, my pulse roaring in my ears as I turn onto his street, the firehouse coming into view…the bay doors are open, the station alive with movement.
A few trucks are parked outside, their reflective decals catching the glow of the overhead lights. Through the window, I can see movement—firefighters checking gear, talking, laughing at something I can’t quite make out. The kitchen light is on, a warm glow against the night. But he’s not there.
This doesn’t make sense. Sebastian is always here on Wednesdays.
My heart stutters, panic clawing its way up my throat.
No.
