Page 135 of Allegiant

That wall between us is almost too thick, too large. I want to open the door and invite him in, let him sit on my couch and rest for a while. That feels too dangerous. Too terrifying for my heart.

I find my eyes wet as I flop onto the bed, my muscles sore, my chest aching.

Now isn’t the time to make any decisions about my future. Because right now I’m too tired to do anything but grieve.

What was, what could have been.

Samson’s there for every show. Of course he is. He watches me the first night from the audience. To raucous applause, I give my final bow with his face front and center. The way he looks so proud of me… It does something to my heart.

The following night, he meets me at the stage door with flowers. The expensive kind that look like they cost the rent on my apartment. Marcy gives me major side-eye when I don’t immediately lean over and kiss him deeply for them. I can’t do that. Even if I want to.

“Thank you,” I say instead.

He nods, looking slightly sheepish. “You deserve this and more. You were beautiful up there.”

That makes me melt. “You could be up there one day too.”

He scoffs in derision. “Never. But I can watch you and live vicariously.”

That night, when he walks me to my front door, he begins to sink down onto the floor, but I find myself pausing. “Why don’t you come in?”

Hope lights his face so brightly it’s almost blinding. “Really?”

That fear is there again, strangling my throat. It makes me blurt out words I know will dim that hope. “Might as well sleep on the couch rather than the floor.”

I fucking hate the hurt in his soft smile. But if I let him in my bed, there won’t be any going back from that.

Each day makes it harder to remember why I’m not with him. Why I don’t want to be a part of his loving family with their chaotic game nights and other weird activities. I have to remind myself of how he lied. How they all lied.

How joining the Buckinghams doesn’t just mean being part of them, but being in The Firm. Part of a group that planned to kill me. That kills others.

It’s too much. Especially with the show. The studio closing.

I’m falling to pieces, and I don’t know how to stop it.

That night I sleep terribly, knowing Samson’s right there in the other room. I could sneak over to him and crawl into his arms, and he’d hold me. I know he would. He loves me.

Maybe it’d be easier on us both if he didn’t.

He continues to show up, giving me the space I need but still being present. He watches me rehearse, lingers in the wings as I review everything with the cast, and stares at me with awe every time I take my final bow.

The show is almost over; my last performance is tomorrow night.

My body aches, my heart full despite it. I’m sad it’s nearly over. Even more sad that the studio is being sold, that this is the last time I’ll be here with my friends, my family.

What does this mean for Samson? Will he still show up for me each day? I shouldn’t want him to. It’s fucking selfish of me, I know this.

I sniffle as Samson walks me into my apartment and his feet falter slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Just sad it’s almost over.”

“The performance?”

I shudder with a sob. “All of it. The studio being sold, this chapter of my life closing, you and me…”

He stops me, a hand cupping my chin softly. “I will still be here. Even if you tell me to leave forever, I’ll still be here.”

I give a shaky breath, wanting to lean up on my tiptoes and kiss him deeply. He must sense it, the need lingering inside of me. Because his hand drops and he takes a step back.