She was halfway down the hall when she heard his yell.
“Chloe!”
Once upon a time, she would have kept running, but now she stopped, turning around to watch him walk up to her.
“I’m sorry.” Amo raked his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for so many fucking things that I wish I could take back. I was the one who led the Lucianos to you. I was the one to call you a freak and not once take up for you in high school—”
“Please, stop punishing yourself, Amo.” She had to stop him, unable to bear his regret. “I don’t blame you for any of that.”
Amo looked at her, letting her see the pain in his eyes. “I have to. That’s the only way I can live with you choosing to be with him after he fucking kidnapped you. If he hadn’t, we would have been more than friends. You know that deep down.”
“I left, Amo.” Her eyes started to water. She hated the way he always made her break his heart even more, but it was the only way she could ever get him to understand. “I was leaving you behind.”
“I would have come for you.” Amo took a step toward her. “I was coming for you. I did come for you!”
She had to look away from him. “I know, but it was too late.”
“No, it’s not. It’s not too late, Chloe …” He took another step toward her, the hope in his eyes growing. He prayed she would change her mind and choose him.
“It wouldn’t have been real between us. You changed around me, and I never changed around you.” She took a step back from him, looking him straight in the eyes. “We were just never meant to be. I know that, because I feel it in my bones. I’m meant to be with him. I am meant to be with Lucca.”
Amo’s eyes became glossy, his vision going toward the ground.
“I will always care about you, Amo, but as a friend … The same way I feel about Elle.”
His fists began to curl at hearing the word ‘friend.’ “I fucking hate him for taking you from me.”
Chloe shook her head. “Don’t blame him. Blame me. It’s not Lucca’s fault I’m not in love you.”
Amo didn’t see the silent elevator doors sliding open, but Chloe did. Her eyes pleaded with the man getting off. Please don’t!
When Lucca didn’t move, she looked back at Amo. “Do you like gardening?”
“What?” Amo gave a frown of distaste, wondering why she had said that. “No.”
Chloe gave a shaky laugh. “I do. I didn’t know I did, but I do now. Lucca taught me how.”
Lucca’s harsh face relaxed while he remained silent by the elevator.
“I have always loved looking at flowers, but I never realized how much work goes into creating a beautiful garden. You have to pull out the weeds to give the flowers’ roots room to grow. Lucca sat with me for hours upon hours, just helping me pull weeds.” Chloe tucked her hair behind her ear, letting her beautiful, scarred face show proudly. “One by one.”
Amo looked up at her, his eyes travelling down her scars, seeing the difference in her now. She had changed.
This was it. The moment when she would make her final choice once and for all.
“I didn’t fall in love with Lucca because he kidnapped me. I fell in love with him because … he set me free.”
Amo’s tight fist loosened. The heartbreak was still there, but that little bit of hope in his eyes shattered to where the hope was gone. It was to the point where she didn’t know which one was worse: to have some hope or none at all.
“Good-bye, Chloe,” he said with finality, telling her in unspoken words that their friendship was over.
It broke her heart to see him end it, yet she understood, seeing the pain it caused him to even look at her.
“Good-bye, Amo.”
Amo turned, coming face-to-face with a frightening Lucca yet again.
She held her breath for a brief moment, hoping he would listen to her pleas and wouldn’t do anything.
Lucca continued staring at a frozen Amo before he passed him, hitting him with his shoulder. “Back to work, soldier.”
Thank you. Chloe let out her held breath as Lucca walked toward her, taking her hand. She pressed herself into him, letting him take her weight as they walked into their place. By the time he had closed the door behind them, she had fallen into him, sobbing.
Packing her upstairs and to their bed, he let her cry into his chest as he ran his tender fingers down her back and twirled her tendrils of black hair.
When the tears no longer continued to shed, she whispered into the room, “Why does it feel like he died?”
“In a way, he did,” he told her regretfully. “But he will be reborn when he finds his new purpose.”