Chapter 17 #2
“It’s not the same,” I mutter stubbornly, but the fight’s already draining out of me.
“No. It’s not. I know that. I fucked up. Royally.” His laugh is humorless. “I was a coward. Too scared to lose you if I told you the truth. Hell, I even wore the sweater you made me at Comic-Con.”
I blink. “You did?”
He nods, something soft flickering in his eyes. “Yeah. Looked ridiculous, but it felt like armor.”
I hate that it warms me. Hate it—but it does.
He exhales, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“I am Eli. At least… the version of me you brought back. And I don’t want to lose him again.
” He glances at me. “I know you’re furious.
You should be. I made a mess of this. I thought you were coming to the signing, and I…
I panicked. I have no excuse. None except that I’m desperately and helplessly in love with you. ”
His words hang heavy between us, drenched in a love I’m not ready to face.
And god… doesn’t that just ruin me?
I stare at him. This stupidly beautiful, stupidly broken man, and every rational part of me screams to run. Turn around. Walk away. Save what little pride I have left.
But my heart… that traitorous, fragile thing? It aches. It begs me to try. To forgive. To see past the lies and all the ways he broke me.
“I hate you,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
“At least… I hate the part of you standing in front of me right now. I hate that you did this. That you let me fall for you, knowing there was a price. Knowing what loving you… really meant.” My throat burns, and my eyes sting.
“I should’ve known. I should’ve known what it meant to love you—this part of you you called Eli. The part you say belongs to me.”
He reaches for me, just a slight movement, his fingers brushing the space between us, but I flinch. Not much, but just enough to still the air between us.
I don’t lean in. I don’t bridge the gap.
I let the distance stay, and the silence stretches between us.
His face tightens, but he doesn’t push. He just waits, his eyes shining with everything he isn’t saying.
Then his breath catches, and when he speaks, his voice is wrecked.
“You’re wrong, love.” He shakes his head slowly.
“You think you only love a part of me… but the truth is, all of me is already yours. Every piece. There’s no ‘Eli’ without Jake.
No Jake without Eli. I kept lying to myself, thinking…
if you loved that version of me, maybe, just maybe, you’d accept the rest.” He looks away then. “But the truth is. I was wrong.”
I want to scream. I want to run. I want to kiss him until I forget every reason I came here.
Instead… I just stand there. Breathing him in and breaking.
He takes a slow step toward me. Then another.
I don’t move. I can’t.
His voice is rough and shaky. “I know I messed up. And I’m sorry…
God, I’m so sorry. But what I’ll never apologize for is meeting you.
Getting to know you. Loving you.” He swallows hard, as his eyes burn into mine.
“And I’m definitely not sorry that you love me, too, because you’re not in love with some made-up version of me.
You’re in love with me. All of me. And once you realize that…
we’ll figure it out. We’ll make it work. ”
I blink fast, my throat closing. “I’m not meant for the spotlight,” I whisper. “I’m not that girl.”
He smiles softly. “Good. I don’t want that girl.
I want you. And you don’t have to be in the limelight, Amy.
Stay home, write your books, rescue your cats…
be brilliant from the shadows if that’s what makes you happy.
” His voice lowers. “I don’t care about the cameras, the premieres, the Hollywood bullshit.
All I care about… is you. Loving me. The real me.
The guy standing here, terrified of losing you. ”
I sag back against the wall, my breath shaking. God, he’s killing me. Still… one question burns. “Did—”
“What?” He breathes, stepping closer. “Amy… ask me anything.”
I force the words out, even though I hate myself for it. “Did you… Did you use me to get the Anlon part?”
The flash of pain in his eyes guts me. But I don’t take it back. I need to know.
“No,” he rasps. “The role was mine, Amy. It was always mine. I might be the asshole who punches a shark, but my name sells tickets. They wanted me.”
I flush, guilt creeping in. All those stupid jabs I threw at him…
He shakes his head. “If anything… I panicked because I knew how much it meant to you. And I wanted to get him right… for you.”
I swallow hard. “The fans?”
He lets out a breathless laugh. “No, love. Not the fans. You. Only you. Because—” He hesitates, then gives me a small, lopsided smile. “I want to be him for you. Your Anlon. I know I started off like a wet blanket, but that’s who I want to be.”
And somehow… hearing that is what shatters me completely.
“This… you… it changes everything,” I whisper.
His brows pull together. “Does it?”
“You’re you… and I’m me.”
Jake frowns, confused. “Yeah. That’s the appeal.”
“Have you seen me? Have you read what people are saying?”
He shrugs, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, I’ve seen you.
And all I’ve wanted is to cup your cheek, hold your hand.
You’re right there… close enough to touch, but somehow I feel like I’m still standing on the outside, looking in.
” He takes a step forward, close enough now that I catch the faint trace of his expensive cologne, the same one from last night.
“Being here, in this room with you, and not being able to touch you? It’s torture.
But I know I did this. I only have myself to blame. ”
He swallows hard, his gaze never leaving mine.
“And as for reading what people say? God, no. What people think of me—or of you—is none of my damn business.” He exhales roughly.
“I love you. I think you’re smoking hot.
I want to be with you on your terms. The rest?
It’s just noise, Fangirl. Jealous, bitter noise.
” He pauses, lips twitching. “Okay… I did fall in love with one of my trolls, but—”
A broken laugh bursts out of me. “You’re such an idiot.”
His eyes soften. “Yeah… but I’m your idiot. If you’ll still have me.”
I sigh, shaking my head slowly. “I don’t know,” I whisper. “I feel… betrayed. And this.” I glance around the opulence surrounding us, gesturing weakly at the sprawling suite. “This isn’t what I pictured. Not for us.”
His shoulders slump, but he looks at me like I’m the only thing holding him together. “Can I—” His voice cracks. “Can I hold your hand?”
I freeze. The simplest request, and somehow… it feels monumental.
For a heartbeat, I consider running, slamming the door, and pretending this moment never happened. But instead, I nod.
His breath stutters, like even he didn’t expect me to say yes. Slowly, he lifts his hand, palm open. No demands. No expectations. Just… waiting.
Tentative, I reach out. My fingers brush his, and the second our skin touches, it’s like the world exhales.
His hand gently closes around mine. His thumb traces the back of my hand once, a soft caress that shatters whatever fight I had left.
It’s not a kiss. Not a confession. It’s just a touch. But somehow… it’s everything.
A silent promise.
A plea for forgiveness.
A desperate hope.
And for the first time, I let him feel me break. Not with words, but with the way I squeeze his hand back, just once, like I’m saying I’m still here. For now, at least.
He lets out a deep exhale. Slowly, he lifts our joined hands and presses his lips to my palm like I’m something sacred.
“If you want me to disappear… I will.” His eyes close, his forehead brushing the back of my hand.
“I’ll fix the narrative. I’ll burn the story down.
Make them forget me, forget us. I’ll make sure no one ever looks at you twice.
” His voice shakes. “But I’ll still love you.
From across the ocean, from whatever corner of the world you send me to…
I’ll love you. And I won’t move on. Not from you.
” His gaze lifts, shining with something broken.
“Because you’re it for me, Amelia. Whether I get to keep you or not… you’re it.”
And the worst part? Despite the lies, despite everything… I know he’s it for me too.
God, I hate him for it.
He’s the stupid, cheesy version of the one.
The one who made me cackle and roll my eyes behind a screen.
The one who made me feel.
And right now, standing here, staring into those stupidly familiar eyes, I know it’s him. It’s always been him.
And somehow… I have to say something. Anything.
“Penis.”
Jake blinks. “What?”
I shake my head, a watery laugh breaking free.
“I don’t want to forget us. And I don’t want the world to forget us either.
I just… I don’t know how to navigate this.
I don’t know how we survive this narrative.
” I swallow hard. “And you’re right. If I’d known who you were…
I’d have shut it down before it ever started.
And that would’ve been a mistake. I know that now. But—”
“No. No but.” He edges closer, forehead pressing against mine, hands still clutching mine. “Don’t do that. No but, please.”
“But…” I whisper anyway, closing my eyes and letting the warmth of him sink into me, steady me. “You had months to see this coming. I’ve had twenty-four hours. I need time, Jake. I need time.”
He’s trembling when he whispers, “Do you love me, Amelia?”
The question cuts through me. I know what he wants. What he’s praying I’ll say.
I love him wholeheartedly.
But when I open my mouth… what comes out is the only truth I have left.
“I love… parts of you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” My voice breaks, but I force the rest out. “And I hope… with everything I have left… that someday, it’ll be all of you.”
He lets out a broken sound, part laugh, part sob. “I’ll take it. God, I’ll take it.”
I barely register him moving until his hand is against my cheek, fingertips feather-light like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
Then he leans in slowly and hesitantly brushes his lips against mine. Once. Twice. Just the ghost of a kiss, like he’s memorizing the shape of me.
And when he finally kisses me… it’s not a claiming. It’s not a demand.
It’s a thank you.
It’s a prayer.
The kind of kiss that breaks you apart and stitches you back together in the same breath.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine again, both of us breathing like we ran miles just to get here.
“I love you,” he whispers. “Even if all I ever get is this moment.”
God, he makes it so hard not to fall. Not to jump into his arms and let him carry me away. But this, us, it isn’t simple. It’s not just about feelings.
Because every smile, every touch, every mistake… it won’t just be ours.
It’ll be dissected. Judged. Torn apart by a world that doesn’t care how real this feels.
And that’s the part that terrifies me most—this can’t be a mistake. I need to know I can live with the weight of it, the noise, the hate that’s already waiting out there for me.
His hands tighten on me, his voice rough against my lips. “Come to LA.”
I stiffen, jerking back instinctively—but he doesn’t let go. He holds me steady, his gaze locked on mine.
“Not right now,” he says quickly, reading me like a book. “Not today. Not even tomorrow. But when you’re ready… come stay with me. See if this can work. No pressure. No cameras. Just us.”
His nose brushes mine tenderly. “I’ll buy you an open ticket. No expiration. Take it whenever you want. I’ll be there—waiting for you.”
And for the first time… it feels like a choice.
Mine.