Bryan's POV

The flashlight beam cut through the darkness, bouncing off the trees, and I blinked as I spotted Señora Álvarez standing a few feet ahead, arms crossed over her chest, looking somewhere between relieved and furious.

"There you two are," she exhaled, shaking her head. "I should've known if anyone was going to get lost, it'd be you, Bryan."

I rolled my eyes, too damn exhausted to argue. "Not my fault the trees all look the same in the dark."

Amber, still wrapped in my hoodie, looked just as drained as I felt. Her eyes were red from crying, her face pale from exhaustion. She hadn't let go of my sleeve since we started walking again, and I didn't think she even realized she was still holding onto me.

Señora Álvarez sighed, rubbing her temple like she had already accepted that dealing with me was an occupational hazard. "Come on," she said. "Everyone's already in their tents. You two need sleep."

Sleep. Right. Like that was going to happen.

The trek back to camp was quiet, but my mind was anything but.

Amber walked beside me, wrapped in my hoodie, her expression unreadable. The warmth of her was distracting, grounding even, but my thoughts were still tangled in knots.

Her words from earlier played over and over in my head.

The guy. The assault. The scar.

I clenched my fists at my sides, barely restraining the anger building inside me. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to find the bastard who had hurt her and make sure he never laid a hand on anyone again. I couldn't get the image out of my head—the way she had curled in on herself when she told me, the way her voice had cracked, like she was still carrying the weight of it every single day.

I stole a glance at her. She looked exhausted, but there was something else there too. A heaviness in her eyes that made my chest ache.

I had always seen Amber as untouchable. The perfect little ballerina with her sharp tongue and stubborn pride. But now, I saw the cracks beneath the surface—the quiet pain she tried so hard to hide.

And it made me want to protect her.

From everything.

From anything.

From anyone who would dare to hurt her again.

I inhaled sharply, shaking my head. Get it together, Bryan.

We reached our tent, and Amber practically collapsed onto her sleeping bag. I wasn't much better, dropping onto mine with a deep sigh. The exhaustion from the night caught up to me, making my limbs heavy, my mind foggy.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

The silence between us was thick, but not awkward. Just... heavy.

And for some reason, before I could even think about it, the words slipped out.

"I've never told anyone this before."

Amber didn't move, but I saw her shift slightly, turning her head toward me. "Told anyone what?"

I stared up at the ceiling of the tent, feeling something claw at my chest. "A secret."

Amber blinked sleepily, still groggy, but something in her expression shifted. She turned a little more, propping herself up on her elbow. "Like... a real secret?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah. The kind I don't talk about."

She was quiet for a moment before murmuring, "What is it?"

I hesitated. I shouldn't have said anything. I should've just rolled over and let the exhaustion take over. But after everything Amber had just told me, it felt... wrong not to give something back.

I let out a slow breath, forcing the words out.

"When I was fifteen, my dad left."

Amber's brows furrowed slightly, but she didn't say anything. She just waited.

I swallowed. "Not like left-for-a-business-trip kind of left. He packed his bags one morning and walked out the front door. Didn't say goodbye. Didn't even look back."

Amber's breath hitched slightly. "Bryan..."

I shook my head, jaw tightening. "It was just me, my mom, and Lily after that. My mom... she held it together for Lily, but I saw how much it wrecked her. She was working extra shifts at the hospital just to make ends meet, barely sleeping. I had to step up. Fast."

Amber's eyes softened, her lips parting slightly, but I wasn't done yet.

"He didn't call. Didn't text. Nothing. Just disappeared. For years. And then one day, out of nowhere, he called me." I exhaled sharply, my stomach twisting just remembering it. "It was last year. He acted like nothing had happened. Like we could just catch up, like he hadn't left us struggling."

Amber sat up slightly, her brows furrowing. "What did you do?"

I let out a humorless chuckle. "I told him to go to hell."

Amber blinked, startled, before a tiny, almost amused breath left her. "Good."

I turned my head slightly to look at her. "Yeah?"

She nodded, her gaze locked onto mine, unwavering. "Yeah. He abandoned you. He doesn't get to waltz back in and pretend like nothing happened."

Something about the way she said it, so firm, so sure, made something settle in my chest.

"I didn't tell my mom," I admitted after a moment. "About the call. She still doesn't know he reached out."

Amber's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Because she was finally okay," I murmured. "She finally stopped waiting for him to come back. I wasn't going to let him ruin that."

She didn't say anything at first. Just sat there, watching me with those unreadable eyes.

Then, to my surprise, she moved closer. Just slightly. Just enough that I could feel her warmth again.

I expected her to say something comforting, something soft. But instead, she smirked, her voice a little teasing.

"Wow," she whispered. "So you do have emotions."

I snorted, shaking my head. "Don't get used to it."

She let out a soft laugh, her eyes still a little tired, but lighter now. "Your secret's safe with me, Baseball Boy."

Something about the way she said it—her voice quiet and knowing, like she understood exactly why I had kept it buried for so long—made my chest tighten.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then, slowly, Amber reached for me.

Her fingers hesitated at first, hovering near my wrist before finally curling around it, grounding me.

I didn't pull away.

Instead, I reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her cheek.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes flicking down to my lips.

"Bryan..."

I didn't let her finish.

I leaned in, closing the space between us, my lips barely grazing hers before she surged forward, meeting me halfway.

The second my lips met hers, I knew I was in trouble.

This wasn't just a kiss. It wasn't frustration, or some heat-of-the-moment mistake.

It was more.

Amber's fingers tightened in my shirt, her body arching slightly beneath me, her breath coming out in sharp, shallow gasps between kisses. I could feel her heat, the way she responded to every touch, every slow press of my lips against hers.

I wasn't thinking.

I wasn't capable of thinking.

All I knew was the way she felt under me—the way her lips moved, hesitant and hungry all at once, like she was learning what it meant to want something for herself.

I deepened the kiss, my hand sliding up her waist, my fingers ghosting along the curve of her ribs, feeling her shiver beneath me.

She made a sound against my mouth—a quiet, breathy noise that shot straight through my chest, settling lower, twisting into something dangerous.

I gritted my teeth, barely holding myself together as I pulled back slightly, dragging my lips along her jaw, down her neck, slow and deliberate.

Amber sucked in a sharp breath, her nails digging into my shoulders as I kissed lower, my mouth trailing over the exposed skin of her collarbone, pressing just enough for her to feel it.

I wanted to go further.

I wanted more.

I wasn't supposed to.

But when I shifted, my thigh brushed against hers, and she gasped, her body pressing closer, her fingers twitching against my skin, and suddenly, I couldn't remember why I was supposed to stop.

I exhaled sharply, closing my eyes for half a second to ground myself, but then Amber moved again—just slightly—and I felt all of her against me.

Fuck.

Heat coiled low in my stomach, my body reacting before my brain could catch up.

I tensed, my breathing ragged, forcing myself to not move, to not press her down into the sleeping bag the way I so badly wanted to.

I needed to slow down.

I needed to breathe.

But then—she shifted beneath me again, and my control snapped.

I reached for the hem of the hoodie she was still wearing—my hoodie—and slowly, carefully, I pushed it up, exposing more of her skin.

Amber inhaled sharply, her fingers curling against my back, but she didn't stop me.

I dragged my lips downward, trailing along her stomach, over the smooth, soft skin of her waist—until I reached it.

The scar.

Amber stiffened immediately, her breath catching, her whole body going rigid.

I felt it—the hesitation, the shame, the way she was waiting for me to react.

To pull away.

To see her the way she saw herself.

Flawed.

Ruined.

I hated that she felt that way.

So I didn't pull away.

I pressed my lips to the mark slowly, deliberately, making sure she felt everything.

Amber sucked in a shaky breath, her hands tightening on my shoulders, her body trembling beneath me.

I kissed it again, softer this time, lingering.

Like I could take away every painful memory attached to it.

She let out a sound—not quite a sob, not quite a gasp—somewhere in between, and I felt her walls cracking, breaking.

I kissed along the scar, my hands holding her steady, my lips moving back up slowly, pressing against her ribs, her stomach, the curve of her hip.

She was shaking.

Not from fear.

From something else.

Her hands slid up my arms, hesitant but searching, like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to want this.

I swallowed hard, exhaling slowly, trying to control myself, but my body was burning, aching.

I wanted her.

But more than that—I wanted her to want me back.

I leaned up, hovering over her again, brushing my lips over her cheek, her temple, before finally finding her mouth again.

This kiss was slower.

Deeper.

Amber kissed me back just as softly, her hands sliding up my neck, her fingers threading into my hair, her touch hesitant but desperate at the same time.

I groaned against her lips, my grip on her waist tightening involuntarily as I pressed closer, feeling every inch of her body against me.

I could feel the tension tightening in my stomach, the heat pooling low, and I knew I had to stop.

I had to.

But then Amber moved again, her hips pressing against mine in the smallest movement, and a deep, guttural sound left my throat before I could stop it.

Fuck.

I forced myself back, breathing hard, my forehead resting against hers as I fought to get myself under control.

Amber's breath was just as uneven, her lips red and swollen from my kisses, her dark eyes staring up at me like she was waiting.

Like she was wondering.

Like she wanted me to keep going.

I clenched my jaw so tightly it hurt.

Then—she moaned softly, breathy and unintentional, and my stomach twisted so hard I nearly lost it.

I exhaled sharply, squeezing my eyes shut, forcing a small smirk onto my lips despite the absolute hell I was in.

"Amber," I murmured, my voice rough with restraint, "if you keep making those noises, I swear—"

She made another one.

I groaned, dropping my head into the crook of her neck. "Ballerina, por Dios, are you trying to kill me?"

She let out a breathy laugh, her fingers still tangled in my hair. "I—"

I cut her off with another kiss, slower, more restrained, trying to calm the fire burning through me.

I pulled away just slightly, my forehead still pressed to hers, both of us panting.

"This is a really bad idea," I murmured, my voice hoarse.

Amber swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Yeah."

Neither of us pulled away.

And still, I had a feeling that whatever just happened—whatever was happening between us—was far from over.