Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
S omehow, there were only ten days until Mia’s scheduled return home. When she’d planned her trip, six weeks had seemed like an eternity to be away. In reality, it had gone in a blink and now it felt like she was leaving home rather than returning to it.
While she made the most mundane turkey and Swiss sandwiches for her and Tori, her thoughts drifted. It was hard to understand what Tori saw in her. Hard to believe that she was still interested after Mia yanked open the chaotic junk drawer that was her life and showed her the crap stuffed in there.
Tori could have anyone. Someone easy. Someone who hadn’t glued the shards of their heart back together with basement bargain glue and hoped for the best. Someone who believed they deserved her.
And yet, Tori was there. Still sitting in Mia’s childhood bedroom looking through old books instead of calling Mia out on having done absolutely nothing to pack up her mother’s house. Steady in a way Mia had never known anyone else to be. Not performative. Not pushy. Just present. Tori gave her safety without making her feel small. Tori’s arms around her body were a shelter, not a cage.
Mia thought about the way Tori looked at her, like she wanted to understand her, not fix her. She’d meant it when she said Mia didn’t have to carry any of it alone—and then proved it. She listened without flinching even when Mia confessed her ugliest thoughts about loss and the unfairness of the universe. Tori never tried to smooth anything over with shiny, well-intentioned nothing. It was the first time in a long time that Mia had talked about her grief without apologizing for it.
Mia hadn’t realized how much she’d needed that, how much she’d missed being allowed to speak without someone getting tired of listening. Eric had. Eventually. So Mia just stopped. It was easier than watching someone wince every time she cracked open her pain. Despite Mia having given her every excuse not to, Tori had stayed. Listened.
It wasn’t just about how Tori treated her. It was the way she moved through the world, quiet and competent and confident without being arrogant. There was something so rare about her patience. The way she offered it without expectation. The way she gave without keeping score. She was sharp and funny in the most unexpected ways—the kind of funny that made Mia laugh until her chest ached.
And God, the scent of her. It was rich and earthy and deep. Mia loved the way it clung to her clothes and skin after Tori left. It was grounding. Familiar. The kind of comfort Mia was going to miss.
She was going to miss so many things about Tori. The way she kissed like she meant it. The way she always touched her with intention. Every brush of fingers, every kiss, every hand on the small of her back—it was never careless. It was always a choice. Again and again she chose her, and Mia couldn’t fathom why.
There were a thousand things she didn’t understand lately. Things she didn’t know, like what the hell she was going to do with her mother’s house. She couldn’t think about selling it without wanting to puke, but the idea of renting it to strangers to cover the taxes also made her queasy.
Lunch in hand, Mia floated from the kitchen to her childhood bedroom. She might have considered staying in the main bedroom, but that would have required actually going in there.
Tori was still sitting cross-legged on the bed where Mia had left her. In joggers and a muscle tee, Tori reminded her of the girl in the photos scattered around the bed. The girl Mia realized she’d loved a little too aggressively to be purely platonic.
“I’d forgotten all about Daisy Chery’s insane seventeenth birthday party.” Tori held up a grainy photo of a group of girls in skinny jeans with side parts and chunky jewelry. They’d all gathered in front of the ridiculous yacht Daisy’s parents had rented to take them around Biscayne Bay.
Mia set the paper plates on the dresser still as full of crap as it was when she arrived. She’d forgotten about that night too. Salt in the air and the taste of smuggled Four Lokos on her tongue. Mia’s stomach soured at the memory of drinking the toxic blend of cough syrup and battery acid. She left the sandwiches for later and plopped down next to Tori.
“We got so drunk so fast.” Mia chuckled, attention on the low res photo in Tori’s hand.
“Remember that crew quarters room we found?” Tori handed Mia the picture and leaned back against the pile of pillows, hand behind her head.
“Oh, shit.” A hazy image sharpened around the edges. “It was so claustrophobic and the bunk beds were so tiny!” She tossed the photo back into the box full of fragmented memories. “How the hell did we end up there?”
Tori chewed her bottom lip, eyes trained on the popcorn ceiling. “I feel like you got into it with somebody. I can’t remember though.” She chuckled. “Pretty sure pounding drinks that were quickly banned by the FDA was not amazing for the brain cells.”
Mia dropped down to Tori’s side, head on her shoulder and arm thrown across her waist. “Even through the boozy haze, I remember it was my idea to get in that top bunk.”
Tori’s stomach tensed when she stopped breathing. Mia imagined she was catapulted back to that night too. Back to Mia carelessly curling herself around Tori. Holding her so close while the extravagant ship drifted and their friends had fun on the top deck.
“I was always doing that, wasn’t I?” Mia skimmed the sliver of skin exposed by Tori’s hiked-up shirt. The narrow swath of soft, tanned abdomen below her navel. “Always taking you away somewhere.”
Tori breathed her amusement, even if it sounded more like a sigh than anything else. “And I was always following too willingly.”
Eyes closed, Mia wondered for the hundredth time what might have happened if Tori had confessed her crush. Or if she’d been as aware of the vibe between them as everyone else had been.
She slid her fingers under Tori’s shirt and craned her neck to look at Tori. At the slight touch, Tori’s eyes were already closed. Her throat already flushing with color.
“What if I had done this when we were crammed together on that little bunk?” Mia pressed her lips to Tori’s jaw. “Would you have kissed me back?”
Tori smirked, prompting Mia to kiss the dimple in her cheek. “I might have passed out before I got the chance.”
Mia ghosted her lips across Tori’s cheek and over her ear. “Does that mean I get to revive you?” She shifted her weight and parted Tori’s legs with her knee.
Hands on Mia’s hips, Tori drew her closer until Mia was on top of her. Until she pressed her thigh between Tori’s legs in a way that made a hungry heat surge in Mia’s body. She pushed her thigh up, hoping Tori felt what Mia felt when Tori did it.
Tori’s moan was a faint rumble that trickled into Mia’s mouth when they kissed. The kiss deepened fast—too fast—but Mia couldn’t care. She was rewriting history with every swipe of her tongue. She was in the bunk, on the roof, in her bed. Kissing Tori for every time she hadn’t. Tongue and teeth and breath, the sharp edges of her want only hastened Mia’s unraveling.
Heat and weight and years of almost erupted into now . Mia rolled her hips, giving Tori more friction to grind against. Her hands were in Tori’s hair, on her ribs, under her shirt. Everywhere and not enough.
Digging her fingers into her lower back, Tori urged Mia to go faster. Every swing of her hips made Tori’s breaths come faster. Made her claw at her harder. Mia didn’t want to stop. She wanted to memorize the shape of this—the sound of Tori’s ragged breathing, the pounding desire roaring at her own core. She tore herself from Tori’s kiss, speaking at the same time she cemented her decision.
“I’m going back early,” Mia panted against Tori’s tempting mouth.
“What?” Tori looked at her with half-lidded eyes, her hips still rocking and her hands still gripping Mia.
“To Philly,” Mia explained, because she was no longer going back home. “I want to go now. So I can get it over with.” She swallowed the doubt she didn’t trust. “So I can come back.”
Clearing her throat, Tori opened her eyes completely. “I’m not sure you should make major, life-altering decisions while you’re high on make-out endorphins.”
Mia raised both her brows in the universal sign for do-you-think-I’m-a-freaking-dummy .
“Are you serious?” The lust cleared from Tori’s gorgeous face. “Mia, moving across the country, giving up your job, your house. I mean, this really is a huge decision.”
“Is it?” Mia rolled off Tori and sat up. “It doesn’t feel so big. It feels kind of obvious. Eric and I have to sell the house anyway, and I’m pretty sure Miami has a hospital or two for me to work in.” She scrunched up her nose. “Unless you think I shouldn’t?”
Before Mia could panic that she’d overblown what was possible between them, Tori shot up in bed. “Listen, I’ve always prided myself on giving you unbiased advice.” She smirked, brown eyes bright like the sun coming through stained glass. “I feel like I should tell you to think about it. Not to be rash.”
“And what shouldn’t you tell me?” Mia reached out for Tori’s hand, thumb finding the ridge of a prominent vein.
Tori’s face devolved into an expression Mia could only call adorably sheepish. “I shouldn’t tell you I’d count the days until you were back.”
Relief was bone-melting as it trickled into Mia’s tense stomach. There was only one thing she hated. One thing that made her feel like the world’s biggest asshole. “Do you feel like you’re always waiting for me?”
Tori’s expression brightened. “Only since the moment I saw you in homeroom freshman year,” she joked before thinking about it. “It’s not like I ever meant to wait for you,” she said as much to herself as to Mia. “I never realized I was doing that.”
Shifting her weight forward, Mia eased Tori onto her back before she straddled her hips. “I promise,” she dipped her head down and hovered over Tori’s parted lips, “I’ll never make you wait again.” She teased Tori’s full bottom lip. “Just one last time and then you’re not going to be able to get rid of me.”
This time when they kissed, it was softer. Slower so Mia could memorize the shape of Tori’s mouth before she had to miss it. Slow enough for Tori to know in her marrow that Mia was coming back to her.
Fingers gliding through Tori’s hair, Mia cupped the side of Tori’s face to hold her still. To keep her. To kiss her long and tenderly and achingly deep because Tori’s lips were the only place Mia could put the feeling rampaging in her chest. The one getting too big for its enclosure.
When Mia eased out of the kiss, she didn’t give herself a chance to hesitate. “Why don’t you come with me?” She met Tori’s gaze without getting off of her. “To Philly.” The idea gained momentum with every racing thump of Mia’s pulse. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but maybe you could stay for a few days or a few weeks or I don’t know. I mean. As long as you want or can?”
Tori smiled at Mia like she was a precocious little thing. “While it would be the absolute gayest thing on the planet to come with you to your divorce.” She laughed. “I think you might have to do it on your own.” Tori touched Mia’s eyebrow scar—the one she’d stopped coloring in—like it was the part of her she wanted to keep. “I’m not calling you avoidant, but…”
Mia cringed. “But we both know I’ve been avoidant AF,” she agreed before dropping onto Tori and nestling into her neck. She took a deep breath, greedily keeping her scent for when she didn’t have her this close. “I’m just so scared of making the wrong move,” she confessed before she could filter herself. “All I’ve ever made are mistakes.”
Tori’s arms around her, strong and sure and unwavering, tricked Mia into relaxing. “I wish you weren’t so incredibly hard on yourself, Mia. Give yourself a little grace.”
It sounded so simple. The way just be honest sounded simple. As if the truth didn’t have consequences. As if truths couldn’t be more destructive than lies.
“No matter what, I’m going to be here for you,” Tori reminded her the way she had so many times since they’d kissed under the stars for the first time.
“I’m so afraid that this is all going to get overwhelming in a hurry and I’m going to lose you,” Mia confessed. “You’re giving me too much.” She buried her face deeper into Tori, clutched her tighter like she was doing her best impression of the neediest tick. “As soon as I’m gone you’re going to realize that I’m a selfish little cretin.”
Tori stroked Mia’s hair in long, soothing motions. “I wish you were kinder to yourself,” she said, like Mia had wounded her with the insult. “This is how relationships go. Sometimes you’re both giving a hundred percent, and sometimes you have to give a little more to cover the other. But as long as it all balances out in the end, does it really matter? If I give you more now and you give me more later, that sounds pretty fair to me.” She explained it so reasonably, the knot in Mia’s stomach loosened without her trying.
Calmed by the steadiness of Tori’s touch and her breathing and her words, Mia lulled herself into believing her. “I promise I’ll pay you back with interest.”
Tori’s soft chuckle vibrated against Mia’s chest. “Oh yeah?”
“Mm-hmm,” she promised, sure that there was nothing she’d ever deny Tori. That there wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for her. “Don’t ever doubt that I know how lucky I am.”
Mia let the quiet stretch between them again, but this time she was desperately searching for the right words. But she still didn’t know how to explain the intractable tangle.
“I’ve been rethinking everything,” she admitted. “How we were back then, you know? Well, how I was.” She paused, fingers idly tracing the hem of Tori’s shirt like it might help pull the words out. “I keep going back to all those sleepovers and late-night drives and the way I used to look at you when I thought you weren’t paying attention. I thought I was just protective. Possessive, maybe.” She was tired of not having language at her disposal. “But I can’t make sense of what it all meant exactly.”
“There’s not going to be an entrance exam,” Tori said with a little laugh, hand still moving in a steady rhythm over Mia’s hair. “You can just be who you are without a label. You don’t have to be anything.”
“I know,” Mia replied, even though she wasn’t sure she agreed. “But I think it’s important for me to understand my identity. To understand who I am.” She sat up.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made a joke. You’re absolutely right about knowing who you are. I just don’t want you to put so much pressure on yourself. There’s no rush to figuring out which letter in the alphabet mafia you are.”
Mia rolled onto her side, but stayed tucked in against Tori. “I just keep wondering – if I hadn’t gotten so serious with Eric so fast in college, would I have figured this out earlier? That I’m attracted to women,” she added with the same stability of a fawn trying out its new legs.
The admission sounded so small, but it was so huge in Mia’s pounding heart. It felt like the very beginning of meeting herself for the first time.
“Compulsory heterosexuality is a thing, Mia. Your being straight was assumed your whole life.” She ran her hand up and down Mia’s side. “And then that straight identity was reinforced at every turn so you’d never question whether you could be suppressing any other identity.”
Mia digested the concept she’d never heard in her entire life. “But you knew,” she said after a while. “You knew you weren’t straight.”
“It’s a lot easier to figure out when you have zero sexual attraction toward dudes,” she joked. “It’s not like I didn’t try to conform. I just couldn’t. That doesn’t mean the pressure wasn’t there.”
Mia didn’t answer right away. She didn’t know how to, not with words. Not yet. There was still so much she didn’t understand. Still so much of herself she hadn’t met.
She let her head fall back against Tori’s shoulder and looked up at the ceiling that had watched her grow up. It looked different now. Everything did. Like something had been knocked loose inside her, and she was waiting to see where it landed.
She didn’t know exactly who she was becoming. Who she was uncovering. But for the first time, the thought of not knowing didn’t make her panic. It just made her curious. And with Tori beside her, she was more hopeful than afraid.
Without a word, Mia reached for her hand. When Tori’s fingers laced through hers a breath later—steady, sure—Mia held on. Eyes closed and chest full, she let herself imagine what came next.