A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 85: CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

KYLE

Ashley sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her fingers curled into the fabric of the towel still wrapped around her. My jacket hung off her shoulders, drowning her frame, and I hated how fucking fragile she looked in it. Like she might disappear if I so much as blinked.

The thought made something violent stir in my chest.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t push. But the words were right there, clawing at my throat, demanding to be spoken.

What the hell were you thinking?

Why the fuck were you alone?

Do you have any idea what it would’ve done to me if I hadn’t gotten to you in time?

But she wouldn’t answer, and even if she did, it wouldn’t be enough. Because nothing would be enough to erase the image burned into my mind—Ashley, motionless at the bottom of the pool. Her body too still. Her lips slightly parted like she’d been seconds away from calling for help but never got the chance.

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

I didn’t know if it was rage or something else, something darker, but it ate away at me with every mile that passed.

By the time I pulled into her driveway, I was barely holding it together.

Ashley moved like she expected me to leave the second she stepped out. 

Either way, she led the way inside, flipping on the lights as we stepped into her living room.

It was warm and cozy. 

The last time I was here was filled with memories.. memories I'd never forget,memories I etched strongly in my head.

She turned to face me, her arms crossed over her chest like a barrier. “You can go now.”

I met her gaze and didn’t move. “Not happening.”

She sighed, exasperated. “Kyle—”

I brushed past her before she could finish, heading straight for the kitchen. She followed, glaring.

“You’re impossible.”

I ignored her, already searching for the coffee maker. “You need something hot.”

“I don’t want coffee.”

I didn’t look up. “You do.”

Her sigh was sharper this time, but she didn’t stop me as I found a mug, filled it with water, and set it in the microwave. She didn’t argue when I grabbed the instant coffee from the cabinet and made it the way I knew she liked—no sugar, just a splash of cream.

She didn’t say a damn thing as I set the mug in front of her.

She just stared at it. Then at me.

I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms. “Drink.”

Her nostrils flared, her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. “You don’t get to act like this, Kyle. Like you still—” She cut herself off, looking away, her throat working like she was swallowing down words she wasn’t ready to say.

I took a step forward, closing the space between us. “Like I still care?”

She went still.

I let out a low laugh, humorless and bitter. “I never stopped, Ashley.”

Her fingers curled into her palms. “That’s not my problem.”

I tilted my head, studying her. “No?”

“No.”

My gaze dropped to her hands, to the way they trembled just slightly before she shoved them behind her back. I exhaled slowly.

Then, before she could stop me, I reached out, gripping the edge of the towel still wrapped around her. She stiffened, her breath catching, but she didn’t pull away.

She should have.

I dragged the fabric between my fingers, feeling the dampness that still lingered. “You’re still cold.”

“I’m fine.”

I met her eyes, holding them. “You’re not.”

Something flashed in her expression—anger, frustration, something else. “What do you want from me, Kyle?”

Everything.

I want everything.

I stayed silent.

She let out a shaky breath, her voice quieter this time. “Why are you here?”

I should’ve told her the truth.

That I couldn’t leave.

That I didn’t trust myself to walk away.

That if I did, I’d spend the whole night replaying every second of what happened, wondering what would’ve happened if I had been just a little too late.

Instead, I reached for the coffee mug and lifted it toward her. “Drink this. Then I’ll go.”

She took the mug, her fingers brushing against mine for the briefest second before she pulled away.

I watched as she took a sip.

Watched as she swallowed.

Watched as she set the mug down and closed her eyes like the warmth was finally sinking in.

I should’ve left then.

I should’ve turned around, walked out the door, and given her the space she clearly wanted.

But I didn’t.

Because some fucked-up part of me still needed to see her safe. Still needed to know that if I walked away tonight, she’d still be here in the morning.

So I stayed.

I stayed until she finished the coffee.

Until the tension in her shoulders eased, if only slightly.

Until her breathing slowed, deepened.

And when I finally did turn to leave, I heard it.

Soft. Almost too quiet to catch.

“Kyle”

I froze.

My grip on the doorknob tightened, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right.

But then—softer, more hesitant—she said it again.

“Kyle.”

I turned slowly, my chest tightening at the way she stood there, looking smaller than I’d ever seen her. Her arms were wrapped around herself, like she was holding herself together, and when her gaze met mine, I saw it.

Fear.

Her throat bobbed, and then, almost reluctantly, she whispered, “Just… wait a while.”

My pulse was a slow, steady thrum in my ears.

“Ashley.” Her name came out rough, raw.

She swallowed again, her eyes darting to the floor. “Just for a little while,” she murmured. “I just—I don’t want to be alone. Not yet.”

It was the closest thing to an admission she’d ever given me.

And that was all it took to make my decision for me.

I let go of the doorknob and stepped away from the exit.

Her relief was almost imperceptible—a slight loosening of her posture, the way her fingers stopped digging into her own arms—but I caught it.

I crossed the room slowly, giving her space. “What do you need?”

She hesitated. Then, voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Just… sit with me.”

That was it.

I nodded once and followed her into the living room.

She sat on the couch first, tucking her legs under her like she was trying to take up as little space as possible. I lowered myself onto the opposite end, keeping distance between us, because I knew that’s what she wanted.

And for a while, neither of us spoke.

The only sound in the room was the faint hum of the heater, the occasional creak of the house settling and the soft meow from her cat who hadn't shown her face since we entered.

Good riddance

Ashley curled deeper into the couch, her gaze unfocused, lost in thought.

I watched her, waiting

Because I knew that, sooner or later, she’d say something.

And then—quietly, almost like she was talking to herself—she whispered, “I was sinking.”

I inhaled sharply.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sweater, knuckles white. “I remember the water… how heavy it felt. How dark.” Her voice wavered, the words barely more than breath. “And I thought… I was scared. Scared of dying alone and helpless.”

A sharp pain sliced through my chest.

She wasn’t just talking about tonight.

This was more. Deeper.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, waiting, knowing she wasn’t done.

Her gaze was distant, lost somewhere I couldn’t reach. “And for a second, I thought… this is it. This is how it ends.” Her lips pressed together, her breathing uneven. “No one would even know. No one would find me until it was too late. I’d just disappear, and the world would keep moving.”

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

Because I had found her.

And the thought of a world without her in it—of a timeline where I hadn’t been there tonight—made something black and merciless coil in my chest.

She let out a slow, shaky exhale. “But then I thought of you.”

My heart stopped.

Her fingers twisted tighter in the fabric of her sweater, her voice almost too soft to hear. “I thought about never seeing you again.” She swallowed hard. “And I hated it. I hated that it scared me more than drowning.”

A thick silence settled between us.

Thus wasn’t a confession.

It wasn’t a surrender.

But it was something.

A crack in the armor she had spent the past days perfecting.

And fuck, if I wasn’t going to wedge myself into that crack and never let her shut me out again.

I moved without thinking, shifting closer, my hands finding hers, prying her fingers away from the sweater and threading them through mine.

Her skin was cold. Too cold.

I squeezed her hands, grounding her. “You’re not alone,” I said, my voice hoarse. “You never were.”

She blinked up at me, something raw and vulnerable flickering behind those guarded eyes. “Kyle—”

“I would’ve found you.” The words came out rough, almost savage. “Even if it was too late. Even if I had to tear the whole damn city apart.” My thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and deliberate. “And if you think for one fucking second that the world would keep moving without you, you don’t know me at all.”

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

I leaned in, close enough to feel her uneven breath against my skin. “I wouldn’t survive it,” I admitted, my voice like gravel. “If you were gone. If you—” I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. “I’d burn the whole damn world down, Ashley”

Her breath hitched.

I wasn’t sure which one of us moved first.

Maybe it was her, maybe it was me.

Maybe it was inevitable.

One second, there was space between us. The next, my lips were on hers, stealing the air from her lungs, swallowing the broken sound she made