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A sob catches in my throat, and I choke it down, but it’s too late. Mia’s already across the room, kneeling in front of me, crying now too.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers. “You love her, Jack. That’s why it hurts. That’s why this is breaking you.”

“I thought I was immune,” I mutter. “Thought I’d buried her so deep she couldn’t touch me anymore. But tonight—God, tonight—she looked at me like I was a ghost and still managed to hurt me worse than she ever did. This is why my dad warned me never to reach out to her. He didn’t want me to feel like this.”

Mia wraps her arms around me.

Warm, trembling, real.

And I let her.

For the first time in a long time, I let someone hold me.

Her cheek presses to mine, her breath hot against my skin, and when I tilt my head and look into her eyes, the distance between us doesn’t stand a chance.

I kiss her.

I don’t think. I just do it.

Her lips are soft, hesitant at first—then hungry. Fierce. Honest.

Everything I’ve been aching for.

Everything I never knew I needed.

I press in closer, kissing her like I’m starving for comfort, for warmth—for her. She tastes like hope and tears and everything I’ve ever been afraid to ask for. Her breath hitches when my hand finds the curve of her jaw, and she leans into me like she needs it too.

The kiss deepens—mouths hungry, open, desperate.

And still, it’s not about lust.

It’s about pain. About feeling seen. About being held. It’s messy, beautiful, too much, and not enough.

When she finally pulls away, her lips are slightly swollen, her cheeks flushed. She rests her forehead against mine, and for a second, we just breathe in the silence, our foreheads pressed together.

Then she kisses the center of my forehead. Soft. Reverent.

That simple gesture does something to me.

Breaks me open all over again.

“You’ve had a long day,” she says gently, brushing her fingers down my cheek. “You should shower. Then rest.”

I nod, slowly. My voice comes out small—unfamiliar. “Can you… will you stay with me tonight?”

She blinks. “What?”

“I’m sorry—I don’t mean it like that,” I say quickly. “No sex. I promise. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. I just… I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Her face softens.

“I can do that,” she says quietly.

And somehow, those four words feel like a lifeline. “Thank you, Mia. Really.”

With a smile, she takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom.

Minutes later, I step into the shower, and the water hits my skin like a wave of silence. Hot. Steady. Almost punishing.