“It's not a breakup. I didn’t explain it right. It's just a… a time-out.”
“It feels like a breakup.” Tears burned her eyes, but she tried to keep them from releasing. “I don’t understand the difference.”
“I don’t know…” He battled for words. “A time-out just means that we release the pressure of trying to make time for each other when we both are overwhelmed with the demands of our lives right now. A breakup is more permanent. That’s not what I want.”
“Do you want to be with others? Is there someone else waiting for this time-out?”
Anguish crossed his face. “No. There’s no one else. I… I have no idea what our time-out looks like, Rach. But I can’t keep you from making new friends and discovering new relationships.”
The air rushed from her. “That’s not what I want.”
Jack stood too, closing the distance between them. “Please remember, I love you. That's not changing. But this? Us trying to hold on to something when we're both stretched so thin? It's not fair to either of us.”
Rachel wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him they could make it work, that love was enough. But looking at the exhaustion in his eyes, the guilt and pain etched across his face, she knew he'd already made up his mind.
“Is this what you want?” she asked quietly. “Really?”
Jack was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded. “I think it's what we need.”
The distinction wasn't lost on her. What they needed, not what they wanted. But maybe he was right. Maybe they did need this. She was forced to admit how hard it was to always feel like she was waiting for scraps of his attention when he was overwhelmed.
“Okay.” The word tasted like ashes.
“We’re still best friends.” Jack's voice cracked. “I can't lose you completely during this time-out. I don’t want you erased from my life until we can make time for us to be together in the future.”
Friends. After everything they'd been through, everything they'd shared, he wanted to be friends.
But looking at him… this man who'd been her hero, her first love, her safe place, Rachel knew she couldn't refuse him anything. Even this.
“Yes… we can make this work,” she whispered, hoping her vow wasn’t a lie.
Relief flooded Jack's face, followed quickly by guilt. He stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms one more time. Rachel let herself lean into him, memorizing the feel of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart against her ear.
This might be the last time. The thought made her chest cave in.
“I'm sorry. I had no idea how demanding the Academy would be,” he murmured into her hair. “I should have… I'm so sorry.”
“Me too.”
When he finally pulled away, his eyes were red-rimmed. He kissed her forehead, gentle and reverent.
Rachel whispered, “Can we have tonight? Please… just tonight before everything changes? Just to be together one last time until… until…”
Their gazes held, and he nodded as he cupped her face with his hands. Then he kissed her. Deeper. Hungrier. His fingers threaded through her hair as his mouth moved over hers with an intensity that stole her breath.
Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. She poured everything she'd been feeling into the kiss. All the loneliness of the past months, all the longing, all the love she couldn't find words for.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Jack rested his forehead against hers. “Rachel,” he whispered, her name a prayer and a plea.
She didn't let herself think about what tomorrow might bring or how little time they had. Instead, she stood and held out her hand. “Come with me.”
His eyes darkened with understanding. He took her hand and let her lead him up the stairs to her room. The space was bathed in moonlight streaming through the blinds, casting silver shadows across the bed.
Rachel turned to face him, suddenly nervous despite everything they'd already shared. But when Jack reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the nervousness faded.
“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.
His hands moved to the hem of her shirt, and he paused, waiting for permission. Rachel nodded, and he slowly lifted the fabric over her head, his fingers reverent as they traced the newly exposed skin. She shivered under his touch, not from cold but from the weight of his gaze.