Almost Love, Then Everything - Chapter 17: Chapter 17
You are reading Almost Love, Then Everything, Chapter 17: Chapter 17. Read more chapters of Almost Love, Then Everything.
Leah woke before the sun had fully risen.
The room was dim, tinged with pale blue light leaking through the curtains. Outside, the city was just beginning to stir—distant cars, the rustle of trees, the hum of a world moving on. But inside the room, everything felt suspended. Still.
Jade was asleep beside her, curled slightly toward the space where Leah used to be.
Leah sat on the edge of the bed, her back to her, the sheet gathered loosely around her waist. Her shoulders were bare, her fingers clenched loosely in her lap. She felt the weight of the night behind her—on her skin, in her breath, lingering in the warmth still left in the sheets.
She should have felt calm. She should have felt safe.
Instead, her chest ached with something heavy and quiet. A slow churn of thoughts she couldn’t outrun.
What did this mean?
Did it mean anything?
What if it was a mistake?
She hated herself for thinking it. But the questions came anyway, creeping in like cold air through a cracked window.
Leah stared at the floor, her heartbeat low and steady like a warning.
It had been real—what they shared. She knew that. Every touch, every whisper, every shiver of Jade’s breath against her skin—it had been real.
But what if it wasn’t enough?
What if now that the moment had passed, it started to slip between their fingers like all the other things she’d tried to hold onto?
Behind her, Jade stirred. A sleepy breath. A rustle of sheets. Leah didn’t turn.
“Leah?” came Jade’s voice, rough with sleep.
Leah hesitated. “Yeah,” she said quietly.
Jade sat up slowly. “You okay?”
Leah nodded, even though she wasn’t sure. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”
Jade didn’t push. She never did. But Leah could feel her gaze on her back, soft and uncertain.
The silence between them wasn’t cold. But it wasn’t warm, either.
It was full. With everything neither of them knew how to say.
After a long pause, Leah stood and reached for her shirt, slipping it over her head. She didn’t look at Jade. Didn’t want to see the confusion—or worse, the hurt—on her face.
“I’ll make coffee,” she said.
Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. She left the room before Jade could answer.
And the space between them, once filled with heat and tenderness, now held something else:
Doubt.
Not loud. Not angry. Just there—quiet and patient. Waiting to see what would happen next.
The room was dim, tinged with pale blue light leaking through the curtains. Outside, the city was just beginning to stir—distant cars, the rustle of trees, the hum of a world moving on. But inside the room, everything felt suspended. Still.
Jade was asleep beside her, curled slightly toward the space where Leah used to be.
Leah sat on the edge of the bed, her back to her, the sheet gathered loosely around her waist. Her shoulders were bare, her fingers clenched loosely in her lap. She felt the weight of the night behind her—on her skin, in her breath, lingering in the warmth still left in the sheets.
She should have felt calm. She should have felt safe.
Instead, her chest ached with something heavy and quiet. A slow churn of thoughts she couldn’t outrun.
What did this mean?
Did it mean anything?
What if it was a mistake?
She hated herself for thinking it. But the questions came anyway, creeping in like cold air through a cracked window.
Leah stared at the floor, her heartbeat low and steady like a warning.
It had been real—what they shared. She knew that. Every touch, every whisper, every shiver of Jade’s breath against her skin—it had been real.
But what if it wasn’t enough?
What if now that the moment had passed, it started to slip between their fingers like all the other things she’d tried to hold onto?
Behind her, Jade stirred. A sleepy breath. A rustle of sheets. Leah didn’t turn.
“Leah?” came Jade’s voice, rough with sleep.
Leah hesitated. “Yeah,” she said quietly.
Jade sat up slowly. “You okay?”
Leah nodded, even though she wasn’t sure. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”
Jade didn’t push. She never did. But Leah could feel her gaze on her back, soft and uncertain.
The silence between them wasn’t cold. But it wasn’t warm, either.
It was full. With everything neither of them knew how to say.
After a long pause, Leah stood and reached for her shirt, slipping it over her head. She didn’t look at Jade. Didn’t want to see the confusion—or worse, the hurt—on her face.
“I’ll make coffee,” she said.
Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. She left the room before Jade could answer.
And the space between them, once filled with heat and tenderness, now held something else:
Doubt.
Not loud. Not angry. Just there—quiet and patient. Waiting to see what would happen next.
End of Almost Love, Then Everything Chapter 17. Continue reading Chapter 18 or return to Almost Love, Then Everything book page.