Then I hear two soft, barely there taps on the door. No one comes here unannounced. The entire team practically lives in the condo building, so I doubt that a random reporter managed to find their way to my specific condo. I mean, this was Beau’s old condo before he and Alise bought a house in Redwood Falls. Maybe it could be—Don’t do this, I tell myself. Don’t hope because it's the quickest way to bleed again.
But the knock comes again like the person on the other side is losing courage with every second that passes, and something helpless breaks loose inside me. My feet move before my brain catches up, carrying me through the living room, toward the door. For amoment, I stand with my hand hovering over the knob, heart pounding in my throat, breath suspended. Whatever is on the other side will change me.
I turn the handle, open the door, and Alycia is standing there. Her eyes are glassy with something that looks so close to defeat and determination tangled together that my legs nearly give out.
“Alycia,” I breathe, because her name is the only thing my body knows how to make right now.
She just stands there on the other side of the threshold, her shoulders tight, her breath shallow, her eyes flicking everywhere but me. Her hands are shaking enough that anyone who knows her would see the tremor hiding in the spaces between her fingers. It hits me so hard I have to brace a hand on the doorframe. She didn’t justcomehere. Shefoughther way here. Every step, every hallway, every elevator button, she battled herself tooth and nail to reach my door. That realization reaches inside me and twists something loose deep inside me.
“Sweetheart,” I say, softer this time, letting the door fall open wider. “Hey.”
Her eyes finally lift, not all the way, but enough for me to see the exhaustion clinging to her like a second skin and the ache she’s been trying to outrun.
“What are you doing here?”
A part of me wants to drag her inside, hold her against me, and let every jagged edge between us soften. But the other part—the terrified,wrecked, honest part—needs to know she didn’t come because she had nowhere else left to go.
She swallows, her breath catching on the way down. “You weren’t answering your phone.”
“That’s not a reason to come here,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady, even as my heart slams against my ribs.
A small, fractured sound escapes her lips as she steps inside without waiting for permission. Like she can’t stand in that hallway one more second without falling apart. I close the door slowly behind her, and she flinches at the soft click of it shutting us into the quiet, dim space of my apartment. “Alycia, look at me.”
The second her eyes meet mine, the world narrows to the few inches of space between us. Her expression flickers with fear, longing, and something so deep it almost knocks me back a step. Her throat works, a tight swallow, and when she speaks, it isn’t steady.
“What are you doing here, Alycia?” The question is softer now, steadier, but it vibrates with something that feels like the edge of a cliff. “Please. Tell me why you came.”
Her hands rise helplessly, as if she’s trying to grasp words that won’t form fast enough. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
The confession latches on to something inside me and pulls it wide open. “Not good enough. I need the truth.”
She stares at me, eyes filling, lips trembling. Her entire body folds in one breath before she forces thewords out. “Because I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter anymore.”
A tremor runs through me so hard I have to steady myself against the back of the couch. “Alycia?—”
She cuts me off, the words collapsing out of her like the dam finally gave way. “You walked away last night, and it felt like something was tearing out of me. Because the thought of losing you made me sick all day. Because every rumor, every photo, every headline hurt more than it should. Because I told you it couldn’t be real and then spent all this time trying to survive the lie.”
“And because—” Her knees weaken, and she catches herself on the edge of my counter. “Because you love me.”
I don’t move because she looks like one wrong move will scatter her into a hundred pieces, and she’ll never find her way back. I step closer, and her breath hitches so sharply it might as well be a sob.
“Alycia, tell me the part you’re still holding back.”
“I love you,” she whispers, then again, barely audible, “I love you, and I’m terrified.”
The words hit me with a devastating impact, yet somehow, the softest thing that’s ever touched me. For an entire lifetime that fits inside one second, I stand perfectly still. Then I move slowly toward her, as if she’s a flame I’m stepping close to for the first time, letting the heat pull me in inch by inch.
“Alycia,” I whisper, but it comes out wrecked. I lift a hand and let my fingers brush the back of herswhere she’s gripping the counter for balance. “Come here.”
She shudders, the breath leaving her like she’s been holding it since the moment I walked away in that garage. Her fingers uncurl with effort, shaking like she’s peeling herself out of fear’s grip. When she places her hand in mine, her palm is cold and damp with everything she’s been carrying alone.
I tug her gently into my space, and she comes like her body has been waiting for this exact pull. Her forehead presses against my chest first, but she doesn’t move to wrap her arms around me. She presses her face into me like she’s relearning what it feels like to breathe.
“I’m terrified of how much I want you,” she mumbles against my shirt.
“I know.” I close my eyes, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head, breathing into her hair. “I feel it.”
Her fingers are tentative when they catch my shirt near my ribs, tugging once, like she’s asking for permission without knowing how to form the words. I wrap my other arm slowly—slow enough for her to pull away—around her waist. She exhales, a sound that skitters down my spine, and her body softens against mine.
