A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 29: CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

KYLE

After we finished eating, Ashley took a shower while I figured out her flight. I pulled out my phone and dialed Daniel Carter, an old friend who worked in aviation logistics. If anyone could secure her a last-minute flight with minimal hassle, it was him.

While waiting for his confirmation, I searched for a nearby hotel and booked her a room, making sure it was comfortable and in a good location. I knew she probably hadn’t thought that far ahead, and I didn’t want her worrying about it later.

I should’ve been preparing for my own trip. I had a business meeting in Milan in three days time—an investment deal that had been in the works for some weeks. It was supposed to be a big win, a crucial step in expanding my portfolio, but for some reason, the excitement I’d once felt had waned. The thought of sitting through hours of negotiations, shaking hands, and talking numbers suddenly felt hollow.

By the time Ashley stepped out of the bathroom, her damp hair clinging to her skin, I had everything pulled up on my laptop. She walked over, her movements slower than usual, exhaustion evident in every step.

By the time Ashley stepped out of the bathroom, steam still clinging to her skin, I had everything pulled up on my laptop, ready to go. She padded over, taking a cursory glance before confirming the bookings.

“Thank you.” She exhaled, sinking onto the couch. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I know,” I said. “But it beats watching some crappy TV rerun for the tenth time.”

A small chuckle escaped her lips, soft but real. For a fleeting second, the heaviness lifted, only to be replaced by something more charged—an awareness crackling in the quiet between us.

Then came the silence. Unsettling. Thick.

“You should get some sleep,” I finally murmured, breaking the moment. But before I could even look over at her, I realized she already had.

Her breathing was slow and even, her body curled slightly against the couch, exhaustion winning over grief.

I sighed, standing up and carefully gathering her into my arms. She barely stirred as I carried her to my room, her weight light against me. Gently, I tucked her beneath the comforter, making sure she was warm. Her face was turned toward the pillow, strands of damp hair fanned across it. Her skin was paler than usual, the tip of her nose still slightly red, her eyes rimmed with the remnants of earlier tears.

I lingered for a second longer than I should have before shutting off the light and quietly making my way back to the living room.

I settled back onto the couch, rubbing the back of my neck as I stared at the open laptop in front of me.  

I had work to do. A lot of it.

The Watson project had been a disaster—one I hadn’t seen coming. Losing the contract had been a blow, not just financially but to my reputation. I'd built my career on precision, on securing deals that others couldn't, and yet, somehow, this one had slipped right through my fingers.

Which was why Milan mattered.

The deal waiting for me there wasn’t just about expansion; it was about regaining leverage, reestablishing my dominance in the industry. If I could lock down the partnership with Valenti Industries, it would more than make up for what I'd lost. The Watson project had been big, but this—this could be bigger.

Still, the usual fire I felt before a deal like this was missing.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but my mind kept drifting back to her.

She’d been in Germany before, living with her mother, and now… now she was here, but not by choice. She’d come back because Violet had been sick, and now she was leaving again, this time to bury the only person who had ever been a constant in her life.

And I? I was flying off to another country for a business deal that suddenly felt insignificant.

Get it together, Kyle.

I forced my attention back to the documents on my screen, scanning financial reports and projections, but the numbers blurred together. For the first time in years, the pressure of closing a deal didn’t give me the rush it usually did.

I exhaled sharply and pushed the laptop away.

I had deadlines. I had people depending on me.

But tonight, none of it felt as urgent as the woman sleeping in my bed.

A sound from the bedroom pulled me from my thoughts.

At first, I wasn’t sure if I had imagined it—the faint whimper, the rustle of sheets. But then I heard it again, soft and pained, like someone struggling against an invisible weight.

Before I even realized it, I was already on my feet, driven by an instinct that didn’t leave room for hesitation.

The bedroom door stood slightly ajar, and as I stepped across the threshold, the sight before me instantly coiled tight around my chest, stealing my breath.

Ashley was tangled in the sheets, her body restless and twisted, caught in the grip of a nightmare that seemed to stretch its fingers deep into her unconscious mind. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, each gasp sharp and ragged as if she couldn’t catch her breath, as if she were fighting to break free from something invisible and suffocating. Her fingers clutched the fabric beneath her with desperate urgency, her knuckles pale, as though she were searching for something—someone—to hold onto in the chaos of her sleep.

I let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down my face as I watched her.

She was still trembling, her fingers twitching against the comforter, her breath coming in uneven gasps. Whatever nightmare had its grip on her wasn’t letting go easily.

Carefully, I reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of her flushed skin. I wrapped my hand around hers, my thumb tracing slow, steady circles against the back of her palm.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, barely audible, even to myself. “You’re okay.”

Her body shifted, a small movement, but it was enough. The furrow between her brows started to soften, the lines of distress slowly easing from her face. Her breath began to steady, the sharp gasps morphing into quieter, slower inhales and exhales, as if the tension was beginning to loosen from around her chest.

I didn’t pull my hand away, not yet. I wanted to make sure she was all right, make sure she could find her way back from whatever shadow had seized her in her sleep. I kept my touch gentle, brushing over her knuckles, grounding her in the warmth of my palm. With each stroke, I could feel her body relax just a little more, the fear that had held her so tightly starting to fade away, replaced with a fragile calm.

After what felt like an eternity, her sobs quieted completely, and her body softened, no longer taut with the fear that had gripped her moments before. Her grip on the sheets loosened, and the stillness in her expression deepened, her features now relaxed, almost peaceful..

I stayed for a moment longer, just to be sure she was okay.

Then, carefully, I pulled my hand away and stood.

I should go back to the living room.

I should get back to work.

But as I took a step toward the door, something in me resisted.

I can’t let her be alone.

She had spent the night keeping herself together, not letting anyone see just how much she was hurting. But here, in the quiet of the night, there was no hiding it. And I couldn’t just ignore that.

But I also couldn’t ignore the Milan deal.

I raked a hand through my hair, pacing the length of the room before finally heading back to the living room.

The laptop was still open, the screen glowing in the darkness, waiting for me to focus.

The Milan deal.

I needed to be in Italy. It was crucial. After losing the Watson project, this was my only shot at setting my footing in the European market. 

But Ashley…

She had to be in Germany for the funeral. And the thought of her being there alone, dealing with everything on her own, made something in my chest twist uncomfortably.

The idea of her facing that loss, that pain, by herself—without anyone to lean on—was unbearable. The thought of her alone in that hotel room, grappling with her grief, twisted something deep in my chest

I had never hesitated when it came to business. My decisions had always been clear, always driven by the knowledge that sacrifice was part of the deal. Sacrificing time, relationships, even my own happiness, had always seemed like a fair trade for success. Business was straightforward—numbers, contracts, strategy. There was no ambiguity. No room for second-guessing.

And yet, here I was.

The weight of confusion settled deeply in me.

Following Ashley to Germany or going to Milan.

Which would it be?