Chapter 29

My heart isa drumbeat in my ears as I hastily try to unlock Ameline's apartment door with the phone wedged between my shoulder and ear. Archer is on the other line explaining how to pick the lock. His voice is the only thing guiding my shaky hands.

The thought of Ame's unconscious body sprawled on her floor is branded in my mind. The fear I felt hearing her scream over the phone still courses through me, lingering like a second skin I can't shed.

What the fuck happened to her?

Archer is ready to call my uncle—maybe I should've called him myself or dialed 9-1-1 when she screamed and didn't respond over the phone. I just . . . all I could think was reaching her at that moment, wanting to know that she was okay. I stayed on the line while I drove as fast as I could through the streets. When she didn't open the door, I called Archer so he could help me with picking the lock.

"I'm in," I sigh with relief. "I'll call you later. Thank you for always being here for me." I put the phone away.

But then panic clutches at my chest when I find her on the floor, unconscious. I kneel beside her, gently lifting her head into my lap. Her breathing is steady, but she remains silent, almost lifeless.

"Baby, Ame. Wake up," I whisper, but she doesn't move. She only breathes evenly.

With unsteady hands, I tenderly brush back her hair, my thumb lingering on her cool cheek. I remind myself that we're wasting precious time. Even when she looks peacefully asleep, something bad could've happened.

After assessing Ameline and making sure she's not hurt, I carefully move her to the bed and grab my stethoscope, needing to check her vitals. I brush a strand of hair from her face, my thumb lingering on her cheek. Seeing her like this, so pale and vulnerable, the truth becomes undeniable—I love this woman.

I love Ameline Lewis with every fiber of my being. I've tried resisting her, insisting my battered heart couldn't risk such feelings again. But seeing her like this, so fragile and in need of protection, the last barriers around my heart crumble.

I can't keep pretending that she's just a friend. Not anymore. I finally accept that my heart has been quietly, irrevocably surrendered to her.

Love.

I'm in fucking love.

Those four letters are too fucking scary. But it's the only emotion that fits what I feel for her. I swore I'd never go down this road.

Not again.

But here I am, head over heels for a girl who turned my world upside down three years ago.

As Ameline's eyes slowly flutter open, a wave of relief washes over me. I'm careful to keep my expression calm, not wanting to add to her worry, but inside, a storm of concern is brewing. She mentions a headache, attributing it to stress-induced migraines. Part of me wants to accept her explanation, but a nagging feeling tells me there's more to it.

Then there's the pressure from her mother who apparently needs her soon. Seeing that she's in the hospital makes me wonder if this is bad news and that's why she suddenly appeared in her children's lives. My mind races with possibilities, but I push them aside.

Thankfully, I persuade Ameline to let it go. Not to worry about her mother or anyone, at least not today. We don't speak as we usually do when we text or during the rare occasions when I drop by the bookstore where she works. I miss the sound of her voice, her laughter, and her stories, but right now, her well-being is my priority. She needs to rest.

When she finally falls asleep, I tuck her in like she's something precious, something to be cherished. I sit by her side for a while, just watching her, making sure she's okay.

Once I know she won't wake up, I step out onto the balcony; I dial Aunt Aspen's number, my childhood doctor and current mentor. I need her professional insight, some reassurance that Ame's symptoms aren't life-threatening. She listens patiently as I describe the incident: Ameline's severe migraines and the little she disclosed during our conversation.

I have the feeling that she's hiding something. If there's anything I've learned about Ameline, it's that she hates to look weak or ask for help. She likes to be self-reliant and doesn't appreciate when people fawn over her well-being. I need to teach her that it's okay when others look after her. Today might be a good day to stop being stubborn and finally admit my feelings for her. Although, it's really not the best time. I can wait a few days or weeks.

"I'd suggest bringing her to me, but, you know, I'm more the teddy bear and Band-Aid kind of doctor," Aspen states with a chuckle. "Let me pull together a list of neurologists for her. They'll need to run some tests. Not all migraines are the same and in my opinion every patient should have their own customized treatment. You should advocate for that personalized approach once they confirm the root of her issues. Make sure they take her condition seriously. It's not just a headache."

I can't shake off my nagging concern. "You don't think it could be something more serious, do you?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

The pause on the other end feels heavy. "Losing consciousness isn't typical for migraines. But let's not leap to any conclusions. Get her checked out first," she advises.

I thank Aunt Aspen and end the call, turning back to look through the glass doors at Ameline, peacefully sleeping. A sudden idea strikes me—what if I ask her to stay with me during the break? I could look after her, be there for her. Just imagining having her near, under the same roof, sends a thrill through me.

I let out a deep breath and sink onto the couch, my ears attuned for any unusual sounds coming from Ameline. There's a certain comfort in just knowing she's nearby, resting. Sitting here, keeping an ear out for her, feels right somehow. I'm just here for her, ready to help if she needs me.

* * *

The next morning,I wake up around five. Ameline remains peacefully asleep. I slip back to my place to jog, shower, and gather some breakfast supplies before returning. When I enter her quiet apartment, Ameline is still sleeping. She looks untroubled, all traces of last night's agony smoothed from her delicate features. Unable to resist, I walk to her and gently brush back a lock of her hair. Her lashes flutter slightly but don't open.

I'm tempted to kiss her, but I refrain. This is certainly not the time for that.

I quietly make my way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast—fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, strong coffee. As I'm cooking, I sense eyes on me and turn to see Ameline awake, watching from the bed.

"Good morning, Ame," I say softly.

She shifts slightly, a soft "Hey" escaping her lips.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," she responds, managing a faint but lovely smile. "Did you stay the whole night?"

I nod. "I wanted to ensure you were alright." I walk to her and help prop her up with some pillows. "Are you hungry at all? I made us some breakfast."

Her stomach growls. She chuckles before saying, "Starving, actually."

I fetch the food, and we eat together in bed. The sight of color returning to her cheeks fills me with relief. But too soon I'm hit by an overwhelming desire to kiss her, to feel her lips against mine, something I've imagined more times than I care to admit. But I hold back, knowing this isn't the moment to act upon my feelings. I waited so long already, what's a few more days, right?

Yep, I can definitely wait longer.

"Do you think you can come with me to visit Mom?" she suddenly asks.

I take a deep breath, knowing I have to dissuade her from doing it. "You really should take it easy today and let your body recover. Why don't you come back to my place instead, so I can keep an eye on you?"

She looks uncertain, shaking her head.

"Ame, you said it last night. This episode has happened before," I state trying to sound gentle yet firm. "What if next time you hit your head, or worse?"

"I'm okay," she insists.

"Come on, Ame, humor me," I insist. "You need someone to look after you right now." I explain what Aunt Aspen and I discussed yesterday, adding, "It might be nothing, but we'll get you set up with a top neurologist ASAP."

She bites her lip, considering. "Shouldn't I check with my regular doctor first though?"

"Probably, which means you need someone to look after you in the meantime. The best choice is a soon-to-be doctor like myself." I give her a playful, yet hopeful smile.

She seems to weigh her options for a moment before finally nodding in agreement. "Okay, if you think it's best."

The moment she agrees, I feel like I won something. A chance to be close to her, but it's definitely not the moment to tell her how I feel. Having her close, even just for a day, feels like a gift.

* * *

At my house,I give her a quick tour of all the mostly unused space.

"It's too big for just one person who's always at school," she comments, looking around curiously.

"Four bedrooms," I explain, not saying that compared to my cousins' places, this is cute and quaint. "If you recall, my family's big, and I like having space for everyone. There's also my music studio in the basement."

She rolls her eyes as if my explanation is still not enough. I let it go and lead her to one of the guest bedrooms, a cozy space with a plush queen bed and a bay window that offers a view of the backyard. "This is your room. Feel free to use anything you want. Extra towels are in the closet, the bathroom has everything you need. My cousin Piper makes sure the place is ready for visitors."

She sits lightly on the edge of the bed, her gaze taking in the room. "It's perfect, Gabe. Thank you for all you've done," she says with a small voice that makes me want to hug her and tell her that everything will be fine. Everything.

"Anything you need, just ask," I say, pausing in the doorway.

There's so much I want to say, feelings I've been holding back, but it's not the right time. Not now, with her world spinning out of control. I've been patient this long; I can wait a bit longer. A few days—or months. Time is relative.

Leaving her to settle in, I try to keep myself occupied, but my mind keeps wandering back to her. I imagine what it would be like to finally kiss her—to hold her face gently in my hands, to look into her beautiful eyes and slowly close the gap between us. I can almost feel the softness of her lips, the subtle hint of vanilla, and that moment when everything else just fades away, leaving only the two of us.

But it's just a daydream, nothing more. Right now, her well-being is my top priority. The thought of that kiss, as sweet and tempting as it may be, has to wait.

Though there's the fear of not knowing if wanting this again—love and forever—is even worth it.

I close my eyes, and I can see her clearly. There's a simplicity and an honesty in the way she looks at the world, at me. And in this quiet moment, I feel a sense of certainty. Despite my fears and reservations, she's the one who's managed to quietly break through my defenses.

To wake my heart and make it beat again.