Chapter18
Aria didn't pull away immediately.
Because for a moment...
She let herself have him back.
Her hand stayed against his face, her thumb brushing slowly beneath his eye, feeling the heat of his skin, the tremor still running through him. His breathing had steadied, but not completely. His chest still rose too fast, like his body hadn't caught up to the reality that he was safe.
He was looking at her.
Really looking at her.
Not past her.
Not through her.
At her.
And God, it was him or part of him.
But enough.
"Aria..." he said again, softer this time.
Her throat tightened.
"Yeah," she whispered.
His hand lifted, slower now, more intentional than before. His fingers brushed against her wrist like he was testing whether she was real.
"I remember pieces," he said.
She held still.
"What kind of pieces?"
His brow furrowed slightly, as if even forming the thoughts hurt.
"You in the kitchen."
Her breath caught.
"You're laughing."
His eyes flickered.
"Dancing."
The words hit her like a physical force.
Her kitchen.
The music.
The way he used to spin her until she couldn't stand straight.
Her chest tightened so sharply she had to swallow to keep from breaking apart right there in front of him.
"I remember wanting to be there," he continued.
His voice was quieter now.
"More than anywhere else."
Her eyes filled instantly.
"That's because we are each other's home," she said softly.
He looked at her like he didn't know what to do with that.
Home.
His hand slid from her wrist to her fingers, curling loosely around them.
"I remember falling in love with you."
The air in the room shifted.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
But heavy.
Everyone in that room felt the difference.
His eyes dropped to their hands.
"I just..." His voice faltered. "I don't know how to be that man again."
There it was.
The truth.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
Real.
Aria's heart broke quietly in her chest.
Not because she didn't already know it.
But because hearing him say it made it final.
He wasn't Chase.
And he wasn't Will either.
He was something in between.
Someone who was hurting, torn apart by his past and present.
"I don't need you to be him," she said gently.
His eyes lifted to hers.
"But I remember how I felt about you," he whispered.
Her breath hitched.
"And when I'm with you..."
His jaw tightened.
"I never want to leave you."
Behind them, the bathroom door opened.
Emily stepped out slowly.
Her eyes immediately found them.
Aria was still kneeling in front of him.
Their hands intertwined.
The space between them was far too close.
She stopped walking.
Parker stepped out behind her, his gaze moving from Will to Aria and then back again.
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Will noticed it first.
His head turned slightly.
His eyes landed on Emily.
And everything changed again.
Not instantly.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
The softness in his expression tightened.
The confusion returned.
Not panic.
But conflict.
He looked back at Aria.
Then at Emily.
Then back again.
"I..." he started.
And stopped.
Because there was no right sentence.
No right answer.
No way to explain what was happening inside his head without hurting someone.
"I don't know what to do right now."
The words landed exactly as they needed to.
Honest.
Broken.
True.
Emily's face didn't crumble.
She didn't lash out.
She didn't cry again.
She just... absorbed it.
Like she had already been preparing herself for this moment.
Aria slowly pulled her hand back.
It felt like tearing something out of her chest.
But she did it anyway.
Because she had to.
"You don't have to make a choice," she said quietly.
Will looked at her.
Confused.
"What do you mean?"
She stood slowly.
Putting space between them.
"I mean, you don't have to force yourself into a version of you that doesn't fit. Just be whoever you want to be and start anew."
His brow furrowed.
"Aria..."
"No," she said, shaking her head.
Her voice didn't rise.
But it didn't waver either.
"I can't do this."
The room stilled again.
Parker straightened slightly.
Hayes watched carefully from the corner.
Will's chest tightened.
"What do you mean you can't..."
"I can't be the thing your brain is using to piece itself back together if it means taring you apart at the same time."
The words hurt.
All of them.
"I can't stand here and let you pull memories out of me so that you can fall apart again when they don't fit right."
Her voice cracked slightly.
"But I also can't keep pretending that I'm strong enough to watch you try to remember loving me while you're still loving someone else. I also cannot hurt Emily."
Emily flinched.
Aria closed her eyes for half a second.
Then opened them again.
Steady.
Resolved.
"If you can't remove yourself from this situation..."
Her gaze met his.
"I will."
The words hit harder than anything else she had said.
Will stood abruptly.
"No."
She stepped back.
"Aria, don't..."
"I have to."
His chest rose sharply.
"Don't leave me again."
The desperation in his voice nearly broke her.
But she held her ground.
"I never left you," she said softly. "I was always here, but for now I am walking away from what this is doing to both of us."
She turned.
And this time...
She didn't hesitate.
She walked out.
Later
The road stretched long and quiet in front of her Uber.
The darkness of Tennessee was fading slowly into the open expanse of Kentucky.
Aria sat in the back of the car with no idea where she was headed; her mind was still replaying everything that had happened.
His voice.
His eyes.
The way he said, "I remember loving you."
Remembering her was only hurting them both.
That distinction cut deeper the longer she thought about it.
Her phone buzzed on the seat beside her hip.
Parker.
She didn't answer.
A few minutes later, another message.
Where are you?
She stared at it.
Then typed back.
Leaving town for a few days.
A pause.
Then:
You okay?
She exhaled slowly.
No.
Another pause.
Then:
You want company?
She hesitated.
Then shook her head before texting back.
I need space from everyone involved with everything.
A minute passed.
Then:
Ethan's in Kentucky.
Her fingers stilled.
She stared at the message for a long moment.
Then, finally, replied:
Send me the address.
The air felt different here.
Like the world had slowed down just enough for her to breathe again.
Ethan sat on the tailgate of his truck when her ride pulled up.
Boots crossed at the ankles.
Hat tipped back.
He didn't move right away when she stepped out of the car.
He just watched her.
Taking in the exhaustion in her posture.
The tension in her shoulders.
The way she looked. It was like she had been holding herself together for far too long with hopes and dreams only, and now it was all fraying at the seams.
"Well," he said finally, pushing off the truck.
"That didn't take long."
She let out a tired breath.
"I think I need some time just to be sad."
He nodded once.
"Yeah," he said. "That'll be okay."
She walked toward him slowly.
"I couldn't stay."
"You didn't need to explain that."
She stopped a few feet in front of him.
"He remembered me."
Ethan's expression softened slightly.
"That's a good thing, ain't it?"
She shook her head.
"Not the way you think."
He tilted his head.
"How do you mean?"
Her voice broke slightly.
"He remembered loving me and everything else."
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"And that's bad because...?"
"Because he doesn't know if he still loves me. He is being destroyed with the memories of all those terrible things that were done to him."
Silence settled between them.
Heavy.
Real.
Ethan nodded slowly.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "That's a hell of a place to be, darlin'."
She wrapped her arms around herself.
"I didn't know where else to go."
He stepped forward slightly.
"You're exactly where you're supposed to be."
She looked up at him.
And for the first time since she left the hotel...
She didn't feel like she was suffocating.
Just... hurting.
And somehow...
That felt easier to survive.
The quiet stretched between them, but it wasn't suffocating.
That was the difference.
Back at the hotel, silence had felt like pressure building in her chest, like something was going to crack if she didn't move, didn't speak, didn't do something.
Here... it just existed.
Ethan didn't rush her.
Didn't try to fix it.
Didn't try to soften it.
He just leaned back against the tailgate of his truck and watched her like he understood that some things weren't meant to be rushed through.
The wind moved through the trees, carrying that faint, earthy smell of water and leaves.
Aria shifted her weight, her arms still wrapped around herself.
"I feel like I'm grieving him all over again," she admitted quietly.
Ethan nodded once.
"Yeah," he said. "That tracks."
Her brow furrowed slightly.
"That tracks?"
He gave a small shrug.
"You didn't just lose him once."
Her chest tightened.
"You lost him twice."
The words landed deeper than she expected.
Because he was right.
The first time had been when they told her he was gone.
The second time...
Was tonight.
When she realized that even though he was alive...
He was never going to be the same man again.
And worse...
She didn't know how to love the man he was becoming.
Her throat tightened.
"This all makes me feel like a terrible person," she whispered.
Ethan's head tilted slightly.
"Why?"
"Because I said I would love him no matter what."
Her voice cracked.
"I meant that. I still mean that."
"But this..." She shook her head slightly. "This isn't just change. This is... everything."
Her hands dropped to her sides.
"I don't even know who he is anymore."
Ethan pushed off the truck slowly.
He stepped closer, but not too close.
Close enough to be present.
Not close enough to overwhelm.
"That doesn't make you a bad person," he said.
She let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
"It feels like it does."
"That's because you're trying to hold yourself to a promise you made to the version of him that you just admitted doesn't exist anymore."
Her breath caught.
"That's not fair to you."
She looked up at him.
"And it's not fair to him either."
The wind picked up slightly, brushing her hair back from her face.
She stared at him for a long moment.
"You always this... annoyingly insightful?" she asked softly.
He smirked just a little.
"Only when I'm talking to someone who is going through a similar situation as myself."
She huffed out a breath that almost felt like a laugh.
Almost.
Her eyes drifted past him, out toward the open stretch of land.
The water in the distance reflected the fading light of the sky.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful for how loud her mind still felt.
"I meant what I said," she continued after a moment.
"I can't be part of what's happening to him right now."
Ethan didn't interrupt.
"He's trying to remember me," she said. "And every time he does, it hurts him."
Her voice softened.
"I can't be the reason he's tearing himself apart."
She swallowed hard.
"And I can't stand there while he's married to someone else and pretend that this is okay with me and not destroying my heart."
Ethan nodded slowly.
"Yeah," he said. "That part matters."
She glanced at him.
"You don't think I'm overreacting?"
He let out a short breath.
"No," he said simply.
"I think you're the only one in this situation thinking clearly."
That surprised her.
"How so?"
"Because everybody else is reacting off their own emotions and needs... You are worried about everyone involved and not nearly enough about your own needs."
He gestured vaguely behind her.
"He's confused, and he's hurting."
"She's scared."
"And you..."
He looked at her directly.
"You're the only one stepping back and asking what's actually right."
Her chest tightened slightly.
"That doesn't make it hurt any less."
"Didn't say it would."
Silence settled again.
But it wasn't heavy.
It just... sat there.
Ethan turned slightly, leaning back against the truck again.
"You hungry?" he asked casually.
She blinked.
"What?"
He shrugged.
"You've been through hell tonight."
"Figured you might not've eaten."
She let out a small breath.
"I haven't."
"Yeah," he said. "That tracks too."
Despite everything, a faint smile tugged at her lips.
"You say that a lot."
He grinned slightly.
"Because you keep proving me right."
She shook her head, but the tension in her shoulders eased just a little.
"Come on," he said, pushing off the truck again.
"I've got a cooler in the back. Nothing fancy, but it'll keep you from passing out on me."
She hesitated for half a second.
He dropped the tailgate and reached into the cooler, pulling out a couple of wrapped sandwiches and handing one to her.
She took it slowly.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
They sat side by side on the tailgate.
She unwrapped the sandwich, staring at it for a second before taking a bite.
The normalcy of it felt strange.
Eating.
Sitting.
Breathing.
Like the world hadn't just shifted under her feet.
Ethan took a bite of his own, then glanced sideways at her.
"You gonna go back?"
The question was simple.
But loaded.
She chewed slowly, swallowing before answering.
"I don't know."
That was the honest answer.
"I know I can't go back right now."
He nodded.
"That's fair."
"But I also know I can't just... disappear forever."
She sighed.
"That's not who I am."
Ethan wiped his hands on his jeans.
"No," he said. "It ain't."
She looked down at the sandwich in her hands.
"I love him."
The words came out quieter this time.
Less desperate.
More certain.
"And that doesn't just turn off."
Ethan didn't respond right away.
Then he said gently,
"No, it doesn't."
"But loving him right now..." she continued, "means stepping away."
Her voice steadied.
"Not stepping in."
Ethan glanced at her.
"That's a hard kind of love."
She gave a small nod.
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for a while after that.
The sky darkened slowly.
The sounds of the night were settling in around them.
Crickets.
Water.
Wind through the trees.
For the first time all day...
Aria felt like she could breathe without it hurting.
Not because things were better.
But because she had finally stopped fighting what they were.
And sometimes...
That was the only way to survive them.