No matter how much she gave,
It wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
And when she pulled away, when she whispered the words that tore her apart, she hated herself.
"I can’t."
Chase exhaled sharply, his grip on her tightening like he was trying to hold on, to keep her here.
But he didn’t argue.
Didn’t say anything at all.
And that—
That was worse.
Because she could feel what he wasn’t saying.
And it fucking hurt.
His fingers flexed against her waist, his forehead pressing against hers for justa beat, just long enough for her to hear the uneven hitch of his breath, just long enough for her to feel the weight of everything hanging between them.
His lips brushed over hers once, twice—soft, slow, like he was trying to memorize the shape of them, the taste of her, the feel of her before she was gone.
Her chest ached.
Her ribs ached.
Her soul ached.
"Tell me I won’t forget this," he murmured, his voice so quiet it was barely a whisper, barely anything at all.
Savannah’s throat tightened as she cupped his face, her thumbs skimming over the rough stubble of his jaw, memorizing him the way he was memorizing her.
"You won’t," she whispered.
And she wasn’t sure if she was saying it for him—
Or for herself.
Because how do you forget something like this?
How do you walk away from something that feels like it’s carved into your bones, something that lives inside of you?
How do you leave when your heart is still here?
She swallowed back the sob threatening to escape and pressed one last kiss to his lips.
And when she finally pulled away,
When she finally sat up,
When she finally forced herself out of the bed and away from him,
She didn’t look back.
