Page 43 of The One Who Changed Everything

Sam let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of her neck. She looked exhausted, the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders. For a moment, I thought she was going to shut this whole thing down, send me on my way with a polite nod and a grateful smile. But instead, she met my eyes, something unreadable flickering across her face before she sighed.

“Stay,” she said, pleading. “Just for dinner?”

I hesitated, but then Sophia brightened again, grabbing plates and setting them on the table like my staying was a foregone conclusion.

"Okay," I said finally, unable to fight the pull of this little family that wasn’t quite mine but felt dangerously close to becoming so. "Just for dinner."

Sophia grabbed my hand. “Come on, I want you to try Mom’s homemade salsa. It’s the best.”

I let myself be pulled along, but my eyes stayed on Sam.

She didn’t look away.

After dinner, Sophia stretched her arms overhead and yawned dramatically. "Ugh, I have so much homework." My gaze followed her arms as she absently touched a necklace at her throat.

My chest tightened. “What do you have there?” I gestured toward her fingers, my voice coming out rough.

Sophia lifted the charm. “Oh, just my necklace. It was my mom’s, but she said I could have it.”

The silver heart caught the light, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

“It’s very pretty,” I said, my voice low, unsteady. My eyes locked onto Samantha’s, and the past crashed into me.

I held the necklace out to her as we shared a blanket on the beach.“This is for you. It’s not much, but it’s a promise. I’ll get you a ring when we get back to Chicago.”

She had kept it.

Sam cleared her throat, breaking our eye contact. "Time for that homework, right?"

Sophia groaned but grabbed her plate and carried it to the sink. "Fine," she relented, dragging her feet toward her backpack. "But if I need help, I’m asking Evan." She shot me a pointed look, daring me to refuse.

I smirked. "I’ll be right here."

Satisfied, she trudged down the hall to her room, leaving me alone with Sam in the quiet of the apartment.

She turned to the sink, rinsing off a plate, and I took the towel beside her without a word. We worked in silence for a few minutes.

But I felt her.

Felt the warmth of her body just inches from mine. Caught the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. Noticed the tension in her shoulders, like she was bracing for something.

I was bracing too. I stepped behind her, caging her with my arms on either side.

“You kept it,” I said quietly.

“For her,” she insisted, her breath shaky.

“I don’t believe you,” I replied in a whisper, my lips just centimeters away from her neck.

She shivered but didn’t try to move away. I could hear her breathing, feel the heat radiating off her skin. My fingers curled against the surface beside her, itching to touch her—to trace thedelicate line of her throat, to remind her of everything we’d once been.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “It doesn’t matter what you believe.”

But it did. It mattered more than I wanted to admit.

I lowered my head slightly, close enough that I could catch the faint scent of her shampoo—something light and familiar, something that sent me spiraling straight back to spring break, to stolen kisses and whispered promises.

“Samantha.” Her name was rough on my tongue, filled with everything I couldn’t say.

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