25. Tobias
Chapter 25
Tobias
F uck. My. Entire. Life.
I knew this was a bad idea. Ifuckingknew it. If there was any doubt about how Amelia feels about me, those last few minutes just blew that shit into outer space. The way her brown eyes shifted—happy to see me one second, then like I'd just torched her favorite pair of ballet shoes the next—the change was instant.
She looked… hurt. And then, just as quickly, she looked like a goddamn savage, ready to hang me out to dry by my balls.
And honestly? Fair. I deserve it.
Because while we keep dancing around this unspoken thing between us, refusing to say the words or even acknowledge it, what the hell did I expect? This mess, this colossal clusterfuck of emotions, is entirely our own doing. There's no one else to blame. Not Levi, not Chloe, not even that dipshit Tate. Just us.
And yet here I am, standing in the aftermath, wondering how I'm supposed to fix it.
Side note—I'm never taking advice from Levi again. Ever. And if he tells Lola I took out a client, I'll kill him. Then she'll kill me. But at least I won't have to see that look on Amelia's face again.
"Why don't you just date someone else and get over the infatuation the old-fashioned way? Or better yet, date them both and see if it's just lust or something more."
I didn't even tell Levi who was on my mind—just that someone was. And, in my infinite wisdom, I thought the first part of his advice seemed… fine.
Distract myself. Move on. Get over it.
I didn't just take bad advice—I weaponized it against myself. Against her and against us.
Because the second I saw Amelia's face, I knew.
"Thanks for letting me use your bathroom. I just really hate public restrooms," Chloe says with a small smile, her voice soft as she steps closer to me.
"No problem." My eyes dart to the clock on the wall and then back to her. "Look, I haven't been drinking, so I can drive you home if you want."
She hesitates, eyes scanning my face for something I'm not offering, and then steps toward me, her heels clicking against the floor. "Or I could stay if you want." Her hands come up to rest lightly on my shoulders, and I let her touch me—for a second. And just like I knew it would, my entire body recoils because these aren't the hands I want.
"I've got a long day tomorrow, so I'm going to call it a night." It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either.
The truth is messy, complicated, and standing right on the other side of a locked door in the cutest pair of cloud-printed pajamas.
"Okay. Maybe another time." She turns toward the door, reaching into her bag. "I'll call my friend to come get me."
She glances back at me, her smile thin and sharp, and I know with absolute certainty I'll never see her again. I lean back against the wall, running a hand down my face and closing my eyes.
I've done a lot of stupid shit in my life, but this takes the fucking crown, and the truth is, I didn't distract myself. I didn't move on, and I didn't get over anything.
I hover outside Amelia's bedroom, just staring at the closed door.Every instinct I have tells me to leave her alone, but the part of me that can't stand how things endedtonight won't let me walk away.
So I knock, and when she doesn't answer, I push the door open anyway.
Her room is dark and quiet, and I step inside, turning on her nightlight. It bathes the room in a soft purple hue, enough for me to see her curled under the blanket, like she's trying to hide from the world. My chest tightens at the sight, and I step closer, standing at the edge of her bed because there's no way I'm leaving this unresolved.
She should know me better than that.
She does know me better than that.
She lets out a low groan and shifts slightly before sitting up, her hair a tousled mess of brown waves that she drags a hand through. "What are you doing?"
Fuck. What am I doing?
"I just wanted to make sure you're okay," I say, but the words fall flat the second they leave my mouth. It sounds weak, even to me, but it's the truth. I'm not here to fight. I just need to know we're not ending the night like this.
She narrows her eyes at me, leaning back against the headboard, arms crossed—radiating pure feminine rage. And as tempting as she looks right now, it's impossible to ignore the way I've made her feel.
"I was fine until you came in and chose to wake me."
"Don't lie to me, Mills."
"I'm tired, Tobias. Go back to your girl."
First off, hearing her call someone else my girl feels wrong.
Like, bone-deep, stomach-twisting wrong.
Secondly, this version of her? The one who's acting like she doesn't care? That's not the Mills I want.
I want her stripped bare. I want her rage, her fire—I want her.
And if I have to be the asshole who drags it out of her, so be it.
"You got your earbuds? Wouldn't want you losing sleep because she's screaming my name."
Her head snaps back to me like I just struck a match in a room full of gasoline. Her eyes blaze, the fury in them so sharp it feels like a blade against my throat.
There she is.
That's it, Firefly. Burn for me.
But the flame dies as quickly as it sparked, replaced by something worse—emptiness. Without a word, she reaches for her phone, fingers tapping against the screen before pressing it to her ear.
"Hey, Tate. I'm sorry I left so fast last night, but I was wondering if you wanted to come over. Finish what we started?"
What. The. Fuck?
"Put the phone down," I snap, my voice low and desperate, but she keeps going like I'm not even in the room.
"Yeah, my place. It's—"
I move before I can think, snatching the phone from her grip. The screen's black. Locked. No call. No Tate.
"Don't fuck with me, Tobias, I'm not in the mood."
I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat doesn't go anywhere. Amelia's pissed—no, she's more than pissed. She's done. She's checked out, and the look in her eyes makes it clear that I might not be able to come back from this.
I realize I've pushed too far—but fuck, I don't know how to pull back.
I set her phone on the bed and walk to her bedroom door, gripping the handle, ready to leave and put an end to this mess. But I can't, not without saying something.
I turn back to her, catching her gaze—dark, stubborn, and filled with every emotion she's trying to hide.
"I'm going to bed alone. But you already know that."