[This is the last chapter from Kylie's POV.]

The apartment door swings open with ease, and before I can even think about how odd it is that Connor hasn't locked me out, I'm standing in his apartment. Connor's standing in the middle of the living room, a shocked expression plastered on his face. Unsure of what else to do, I close the door behind me and look at him. He's wearing baggy, dark gray sweatpants and a BYU wrestling hoodie. His eyes are glistening, and his wavy brown hair is sticking up--as if he's been running his hands through it. He looks like...

"Have you been crying?" The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. I almost apologize, but I want to hear his answer.

Connor blushes bright red. "Uhh, no." He shakes his head. "I mean, yes. Maybe. I hadn't cried in, like, ten years, but... life, you know? It just catches up with--"

While he's stumbling over his words, my impatience wins out. I rush over to him and give him a bear hug, nearly lifting him off the ground with my momentum. He tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip. After a few seconds, Connor gives up on trying to get away. He rests his face on my shoulder and wraps his arms around me.

"It's okay. You can cry," I whisper, saying the words I wish my mom said to me when I was little. I rub Connor's back in circles. Within ten seconds, Connor's torso begins to shake gently, and I can feel a wetness on my shoulder. Tears. Based on the intensity of the shaking, I can tell that Connor feels like sobbing, but he won't let himself. I wish he could feel safe enough to do that.

We stand there for a while, locked in the embrace. I listen to his breathing, noticing the way he pauses for a second before inhaling. It's all too familiar to me--when sobbing silently, it's more difficult to stifle the inhales than the exhales. It takes a couple of minutes before Connor's breath becomes more even. He loosens his grip, but I keep holding on, waiting until his breathing completely evens out. While I