And then I hear the air leave her in a noticeablewhoosh.
“Chase,” she rasps, a hand lifting to her mouth. “Chase, no.”
She launches herself at me, taking me in her arms. Two soft hands cradle my face, forcing our eyes to meet.
Her touch. Her scent.
God, how I’ve missed it.
“You can see me,” she says, desperation bleeding through. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
My watery gaze finds hers as my head shakes, breath sawing out in agony-drenched gasps. “Shapes,” I murmur. “Lights. The streaks in your hair.” I drag trembling fingers through her hair. “But not enough.”
She’s close to hyperventilating. She can’t find any air.
“I couldn’t put you through this. I was changing—physically, mentally.I couldn’t do that to you. Love isn’t always about staying. It’s about knowing when to walk, when the cost of staying might be worse than the loss of leaving.”
The pain. The pain is excruciating.
But it’s not my head this time. It’s having her in my arms while not having her at all. She’s still so far away. A beautiful mirage I can’t grasp.
Annie clutches my cheeks tighter. “You don’t get to rewrite love like that. You don’t get to make it noble and erase me from the ending.”
Tears slip from my lashes, catching in the stubble on my jaw. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. Weak. Angry. Falling apart every time another piece of the world goes dark.”
“You think I wanted the version of you that only shows up when things are easy? No way. That’s not how it works. I want you, Chase. Even broken. Even terrified. Even sick.”
I suck in a breath, then untangle myself from her arms. “Please, Annie. Just go. You have to.”
“No.”
“You’re strong. And you still have music—”
“You’rethe music!” she shrieks. “You. Only you. All the music died the day you left me. My heart is with you, Chase.”
Devastation rips through me like a fault line finally splitting open.
Surging forward, I grip her cheeks between my hands and press my forehead to hers. “Then your heart is with a dead man.”
The words are jagged and low, spilling through clenched teeth like they’re rotting on my tongue.
Because it’s true.
Because I am.
Because it’s over.
The secrets. The hiding. The harrowing truth.
“What?” She gasps. Her hands fall from my face. “Don’t say that. Don’t youdaresay that.”
I just stare at her. Haunted. Hollow.
As honest as I’ve ever been.
“You’re not dying,” she whispers, more to herself than to me. “You’re notdying.”
I stay silent.
