Tobias Iaconis

“Lighten up, Stella,” I say, sauntering to the door. “It’s just life. It’ll be over before we know it.”

She’s fighting for her life,” she finally says, meeting my eyes in the glass. “She doesn’t know what’s ahead of her or why she’s fighting. It’s just . . . instinct, Will. Her instinct is to fight. To live.”

“But no nudes,” she adds. She’s taken her face mask off and I can see her lips twitching into a smile. The first one she’s given me. She’s making a joke.

Stella Grant is making a joke.

trying to ignore the fact that that open space? It will always be there.

And I realize I’m doing the one thing I’ve told myself this whole time I wouldn’t do. I’m wanting something I can never have.

“You’re going to be just fine, Stella.”

His voice is deep. Soft. I know in that moment, even though it could not be more ridiculous, that if I die in there, I won’t die without falling in love.

I’m tired of living without really living. I’m tired of wanting things. We can’t have a lot of things. But we could have this.

I take a step toward the door, wanting to see him now more than I want to even breathe.

It’s right here, close enough to touch. But I can’t. I didn’t know it was possible to want something so bad you could feel it in your arms and your legs and in every breath you take.

I can’t take my eyes off her.