A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 28: CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

KYLE

“It’s my mom. The hospital called... she was in a car accident. She—she’s…”

Her words shattered mid-sentence, but I didn’t need her to finish. I already knew. Still, nothing prepared me for the brutal, unrelenting pain that slammed into my chest. It hit like an explosion, tearing through my ribcage, every hidden ache and fear detonating at once. The pain burned, spreading through my lungs, rushing through my veins until it felt like my entire body was on fire.

Her first sob—the soft, broken sound—was enough to bring it all crashing down. My heart squeezed, my breath caught, and I had to fight to keep myself steady.

I drove her to my penthouse, the silence heavy between us. She didn’t say a word, didn’t even protest. I took her to my place instead of hers, knowing she wouldn’t want to be alone. She hadn’t spoken since we arrived—just cried, her grief pouring out in endless waves of sobs and tears.

I didn’t know how to fix it. Didn’t know what to say to make the hurt go away. But I couldn’t just stand there, I had to do something.

“Come here, Ashley.” The words were rough, torn from my throat, unfamiliar and shaky.

I opened my arms, and she stepped into them without hesitation, burying her face in my chest. The weight of her sorrow pressed into me, and it took everything I had not to break. Seeing her like this—so utterly broken—tore me apart more than I ever thought possible.

“Shhh.” I rested my chin on top of her head and rubbed slow, gentle circles on her back, wishing I knew how to make it stop, wishing I could take away the agony that I couldn’t touch. I would’ve done anything to take her pain away, but bringing back the dead wasn’t something I could do.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be…” She hiccupped, the words barely coming out. “I know I shouldn’t be here, b-but Vi—violet and I…”

“Stop saying sorry.” My arms tightened around her, pulling her in closer. “You have nothing to apologize for. You can stay here as long as you need.”

“But we are…”

“Ashley.” My hand froze on her back for a beat before I spoke again. “Shut up and let me hold you.”

A soft laugh, wet with tears, escaped her lips for a moment before it dissolved into more sobs. But that laugh—fragile and fleeting—was enough. I’d take it, even if it was only a second.

Eventually, her sobs turned into quiet sniffles. I guided her over to the couch, settling her down gently.

“I’ll be right back,” I murmured.

I didn’t have the time to grocery shop this week, so I quickly placed an order for delivery and headed to the kitchen. I made her a cup of tea—my mom always said that a good cup of tea could fix anything. I didn’t drink it much myself anymore, but I always kept some in the pantry.

As the kettle boiled, a wave of nostalgia hit me—sharp and heavy. My mom had passed when I was a kid, and I’d buried most of those memories. But grief doesn’t ever really leave you, does it? It lurks, always waiting for the right moment to remind you.

I shook the thought away as the water boiled, then poured it over the tea bag, letting it steep.

When I returned to the living room, I handed her the cup of tea, my fingers brushing against hers. Her hand trembled slightly as she took it, her eyes not quite meeting mine.

The silence stretched between us, thick and unspoken, before she finally broke it, her voice barely above a whisper

“My mom and I, we were... so close,” she said, her voice catching slightly. She swallowed, taking a shaky breath before continuing. “After my dad died, it was just the two of us.And when I moved back to Germany, it was just the two of us against the world. We did everything together—spent weekends exploring the city, long drives into the countryside. I remember the smell of fresh bread when we went to that little bakery down the street, and how she would always insist on buying extra just in case, even though we never finished it. But we loved it—just the two of us. It was always me and her, you know?”

Her voice trembled, the rawness of her emotions clawing at her words. She looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed, filled with a sorrow that made my heart ache.

“And then Violet got sick," she added softly, her gaze flickering to the floor. "I came back to New York, you know, to be with her. It’s all just happened so fast. I—" Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat before continuing. "I wasn’t there for my mom when she needed me. And now I’ll never get to see her again. I’ll never get to hold her, to tell her how much I love her, how much she meant to me.”

Her voice faltered,. The tears she had been holding back finally slipped free, rolling down her cheeks silently. She wiped them away quickly, but it didn’t stop them from coming.

“I wasn’t there when she needed me,” Ashley whispered, her voice broken. “I wasn’t there when she... when she needed someone to hold her hand, to tell her everything would be okay. I wasn’t there.” Her breath hitched, and she set the tea down on the table, burying her face in her hands.

My chest tightened as I watched her fall apart. I wanted to do something, anything to take the pain away, but I knew there was no way to make this better. Nothing I could say would ever fill the emptiness she was feeling, not in this moment.

I leaned forward, my hand gently touching her back, offering what little comfort I could. "Ashley, you loved her. And she knew that. She knew you loved her." I paused. "Sometimes we just don’t get the chance to say everything we want to. But that doesn’t take away from the love you had. The time you had together. You can’t change what happened, but you can honor her memory. That’s what she’d want."

Ashley didn’t respond right away, but her shoulders trembled under my touch, and the tears didn’t stop.

The doorbell rang, pulling me from the heavy silence that had enveloped the room. I sighed, reluctantly unfolding myself from the couch to answer it. When I returned, I had two large brown paper bags in my hands.

“Comfort food,” I said, offering a small, reassuring smile as I set the bags on the table and began pulling out takeout containers.

I placed a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup and a side of crusty bread in front of her. “Eat.”

Ashley barely glanced at the food, her shoulders sagging. “I’m not hungry.”

“Eat,” I insisted gently, pushing the container of soup closer to her. “You’ll need the energy later. And drink more water or you’ll get dehydrated.”

She gave me a faint, grateful smile but didn’t argue. She picked up the spoon, and we ate in companionable silence for a while, the weight of the moment hanging in the air. The soft clink of utensils against the dishes was the only sound between us until she finally spoke.

“I have to fly to Germany tomorrow. For her funeral,” she said, her voice cracking just slightly.

My chest tightened as I looked at her, feeling the raw pain in her words.

“But the flight to Germany isn’t until Thursday. There won’t be any available flights that can get me there by 8 a.m. tomorrow, and…” Her voice trailed off, her worry plain on her face.

I could see the panic starting to bubble up in her eyes, and I hated that she had to go through this alone.

“Breathe” I placed my hands on her shoulders, steadying her. She was breathing faster again, her eyes taking on the wildness of overwhelm. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to finish eating, then you’re going to take a shower. While you do that, I’ll look up flights for you,then the hotel you will stay at and funeral homes. I’ve got connections. I’ll help you get it done.”

She looked at me, uncertainty still clouding her gaze, but after a beat, she nodded.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice still fragile.

“Anything for you”