Savannahwoketothewarmth of Chase’s body pressed against hers, his arm draped lazily over her waist, his steady breath fanning against the back of her neck.
For a fleeting moment—a beautiful, cruel moment—she let herself forget.
She let herself pretend.
Pretend that this was just another morning wrapped up in him, tangled in sheets that smelled like him, like them. Pretend that when the sun crept higher in the sky, when the world outside their little bubble stirred awake, she wouldn’t have to leave.
But pretending didn’t stop time.
The weight of it settled over her like a storm cloud, thick and suffocating, pressing down on her chest until she could barely breathe.
Her stomach twisted, the sharp pang of reality cutting through the illusion, shattering the fragile what if she had dared to hold onto for just a little while longer.
Today.
Today, she was leaving.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the moment to last longer, to stretch time, to trap them in this bed forever. If she didn’t move, if she didn’t acknowledge it, maybe the universe would grant her mercy and let this morning continue indefinitely.
And for just a little while longer, she could let herself believe this wasn’t the last time she’d wake up beside him.
But reality had never been kind.
She shifted just slightly, and immediately, Chase stirred behind her. His arm tensed around her waist, his body pressing closer, as if—even in sleep—he knew.
As if some part of him could feel her slipping away.
His lips brushed against her bare shoulder, warm, lingering, the softest graze ofhis mouth over her skin before he murmured in a sleep-roughened voice,
"Stay."
Savannah froze.
Her breath caught, her fingers tightening around the sheets.
Chase never asked for anything.
Not like this.
Not raw and bare and aching.
Her heart clenched, her pulse a slow, painful thud against her ribs as she stared at the wall, as she tried to hold herself together when every part of her was already breaking.
She wanted to say yes.
God, she wanted to say yes.
But she couldn’t.
Because if she let herself believe—even for a second—that staying was an option, she wouldn’t be strong enough to leave.
And she had to.
Didn’t she?
Savannah turned in his arms, shifting until she was facing him, until she could take in every inch of him.
His dark hair, mussed from sleep, the sleepy weight in his deep green eyes, the rough stubble shadowing his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly as he blinked at her.
