Twenty Nine
The Last Stop
MIA
I FEEL IT BEFORE I see him.
That prickle at the base of my neck, the kind of instinctual awareness that only ever means one thing.
I turn, my pulse hammering and . . . there he is.
Austin.
He’s standing on the platform, chest heaving like he’s just run through fire to get here. His tie is askew, his usually neat hair windswept, and his coat is hanging open like he barely had time to throw it on.
And he’s staring at me. He’s staring at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
The breath leaves my lungs in a rush. My whole body feels like it’s locked in place, frozen in time between the past and the present, between what I had and what I lost.
He takes a step closer. His throat bobs, and for a second, I think maybe he won’t say anything at all. And then, in a voice hoarse with something raw, he says it.
“I love you.”
My stomach plummets.
The sheer weight of the words crashes into me, knocking the air from my chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
A choked sob pushes past my lips before I can stop it, and suddenly, I’m moving. I don’t care that we’re in the middle of a busy train platform. That people are pushing past us, heading off to their own lives. That I have a ticket clutched in my hand for a train I was so sure I needed to be on.
None of it matters.
Because Austin is here.
And I was about to leave him behind. Again.
“I—” My voice breaks. I shake my head, and take a cautious step closer to him, still not believing he is really here. I grip the front of his coat like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. “I’m so sorry.”
His hands come up, framing my face, his touch gentle despite the storm in his eyes.
“I shouldn’t have let you go,” I whisper, my throat thick with emotion. “I shouldn’t have—God, I was so stupid, Austin.”
He exhales shakily, his thumbs brushing against my cheekbones, catching the tears I can’t stop.
“I love you,” I tell him, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “I never stopped. Not for a second. And I know I hurt you, and I know I don’t deserve this, but—” My voice snaps like a fragile thread. “Please, can we try again?”
He presses his forehead against mine, his breath uneven, his grip just a little too tight—like he’s afraid I might disappear. “You destroyed me, Mia.” His voice is rough, edged with something close to pain.
I let out a shaky laugh. “I destroyed myself too.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me. To search my face like he’s making sure this is real.
A train rumbles in the distance. A reminder. A warning.
“Please,” I whisper again, hands fisting in his coat. “I don’t want to leave. Not without you.”
His jaw tightens and then after a few long, agonising seconds, he finally kisses me.
And everything falls back into place.
His mouth crashes against mine, desperate, searching, like he’s trying to memorise the shape of me all over again. Like maybe if he kisses me hard enough, he’ll erase the time we lost, and the damage I caused.
I clutch at him, fingers digging into his coat, my heart is hammering so fast I think it might shatter. He tastes like breathless confessions and second chances, like everything I thought I’d ruined beyond repair.
The train screeches into the station behind us, the sound splitting the air, but neither of us moves. Neither of us so much as flinches.
He pulls away, just enough to breathe. His forehead pressed against mine again. His hands are still cradling my face, as his thumbs continue to stroke my cheekbones, like he’s scared I’ll disappear if he lets go.
I squeeze my eyes shut, because it’s too much. He’s too much.
When I finally force myself to open them, he’s watching me. His jaw is tight, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—God, his eyes are wrecked.
“You really weren’t going to tell me you were here?” His voice is low, rough.
I flinch. “I thought you’d moved on.”
He exhales sharply, like I’ve hit him. “Jesus, Mia,” he mutters, running a hand through his already-ruined hair.
I swallow. “I saw you with her.”
It takes him a second to process what I mean. And then his brows pull together. “April?”
I nod, feeling pathetic. “She had her hand on your arm.”
For a second, he just stares at me. And then he lets out something between a laugh and a groan, stepping back and dragging a hand over his face.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
Humiliation claws at my throat. “I shouldn’t have come,” I whisper, stepping back toward the train, gripping my ticket so tightly the paper crumples beneath my fingers.
But then he’s in front of me again. blocking my way. “Don’t,” he says, his voice suddenly urgent.
My lip trembles. “Austin—”
“I haven’t moved on, Mia.” His voice is raw, his eyes burning into mine. “I tried. And I failed, dramatically. Because you ruined me, and I haven’t figured out how to be un-ruined.”
The breath rushes from my lungs.
“You think April is my girlfriend?” He shakes his head, something close to a laugh slipping out. “She’s my colleague, Mia. That’s it.”
The words settle in my chest, slow and heavy.
Oh.
I let out a weak, self-deprecating laugh. “Right. So I’ve just made an absolute fool of myself, then?”
Austin doesn’t smile, instead, he steps closer. “You want to know what’s foolish?” he says, his voice low. “Letting you get on that train.”
I suck in a sharp breath.
The doors of the carriage slide open. The overhead speakers call for final boarding.
I don’t move.
Neither does he.
It’s a standoff. A moment stretched too tight.
Then, finally, he exhales and shakes his head, like he’s done fighting it. “Come home, Mia.”
My breath catches.
He watches me, his expression wide open. Vulnerable.
And just like that—it’s over.
The fight. The distance. The past.
Because I could get on that train. I could go back to London, back to the miserable semblance of a life I had before, and pretend like this moment never happened.
Or—I could be with him. I could take his hand and walk away from the station, from the mistake I almost made again.
A tear slips down my cheek, but I’m smiling through it.
I drop the ticket and Austin watches it flutter to the ground. He then meets my eyes, relief crashing through his expression. His fingers lace through mine. And then, without another word, he pulls me into him and walks me out of the train station.