Chapter Thirty

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Anthony's looking at me with that kind, soft, gaze, and I feel as though I may burst into tears at any moment

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Anthony's looking at me with that kind, soft, gaze, and I feel as though I may burst into tears at any moment. Furious, I scrub at my eyes with one hand. I'm being ridiculous. We're parting ways for less than an hour and I'm turning into a blubbering mess.

I'm worn down, broken, and I'm not sure how much longer I can go on. It feels like it's been at least a year since I've slept, and my headache hasn't abated at all.

It pounds through my skull, making my eyes water and my stomach turn. I wince, rubbing fruitlessly at my brow, trying to relieve the tension.

"Are you alright?" Anthony asks, voice low.

I summon all of the strength I have left to smile. "Yes. Just... a headache, is all."

Anthony frowns, pressing one of his hands to my forehead. I try not to shiver at the contact, at how close he is. The heat of his hand soothes the pain in my head, and I lean into his touch, suddenly grateful that Ben let us say goodbye in private.

Not that it's goodbye.

"It's all going to be fine, alright?" he says softly, stroking my cheek.

I nod mutely. I don't have any energy to talk, to reassure. I don't know if everything will be alright. In fact, most days it doesn't feel like it will ever be okay again.

Anthony sighs, sitting down beside me. (On his bed.)

"It's only an hour. I'll be fine, and then we'll be on the boat and out of this god forsaken place."

"Promise?" I ask, a moment of weakness letting some of my fear seep out.

"I promise," he says, eyes meeting mine.

"I don't want to lose you, too," I say, vulnerability filling my voice.

"You won't."

"But what if I do, Anthony? What if the minute you're out of my sight they take you, too? I don't know what I would do. And," I swallow back tears. "And, what if this time I don't even remember you? I could forget you even existed, or they could take me away and make you forget that I even existed."

Anthony's hand cups my jaw, fire burning in his eyes. "Don't you think even for a moment that I could ever forget you."

His voice is hard. Certain.

And I don't know what to say—don't know how to reassure him that I feel the same way. That I would do anything to keep him safe.

So instead, I do what I've been wanting to do all day, and press my lips to his.

His lips are soft against mine, his hand a steady pressure where it meets my cheeks. I bring one hand up to his chest, feeling the irregular beat of his heart against my palm.

I'm breathless, falling, the ground snatched out from under me. His kiss is fire and reckoning and sweet, sweet, oblivion and I never want it to stop.

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