Stone spent his very last day packing and cleaning the rental. He was leaving the next morning but staying with the rest of his team in a hotel for the night.

I packed my own items and threw them into my car. Alonzo and Birdie were at my feet all day, sensing a change.

I spotted Alonzo following Stone, the cat finally warming to him. It broke my heart knowing in less than a day, he’d be gone.

I could always visit Quantico, but would that be causing us more pain than good?

I kept trying to convince myself I’d move on. When Stone left, I’d go back to my apartment and spend my nights with Mallory, drinking wine and laughing at how terrible dating was.

Yet, there’d always be the pain of what could’ve been with Stone.

I pushed the thought out of my head, helping Stone wipe down the kitchen counters.

The bottle of scotch still sat untouched. He’d never once given in to the temptation of it.

“Don’t forget to pack this,” I reminded him, knowing Nelson didn’t need such a nice bottle of alcohol.

Stone followed my gaze to the glass bottle, and I sucked in a breath as he picked it up and unscrewed the cap. My stomach sunk, and I almost reached out to snatch it from him. He’d made it this far—I wouldn’t let him go back to that dark pit.

Instead, he turned to the sink and dumped the entire thing. My jaw fell open, and I stared in both horror and surprise. The first washed away quickly, realizing he wasn’t going to drink it.

“I don’t need this anymore,” he said and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin.

I hurried forward and wrapped my arms around him. It took him by surprise, but he embraced me quickly.

Together, we’d grown. We’d fought our pasts and faced our mistakes head on. If anyone deserved this accomplishment, it was Stone.

My heart swelled for him.

“I’m proud of you,” I said, pressed tightly to him.

“I’m proud of you too,” he whispered back.

* * *

“I know it’s not fair of me to ask, but are you sure you can’t come to Quantico?” he asked, grabbing his bags and stacking them near the front door.

My chest ached as I tried to get a deep breath, holding back tears. Each time I tried to revisit the idea, I knew I couldn’t. I had thought it over every day since the beach.

“Francis expects me back at the museum soon,” I said, trying to hold it together. “I just started working my way up there. I can’t leave yet.”

He nodded, understanding, but it still broke me inside. To see that hopeful glance disappear as fast as it came was like ripping my heart physically out of my chest.