Archive of Our Own

Late evenings at Snapping Turtle usually ran on a rhythm Amanda didn’t have to think about.

Tonight didn’t.

It wasn’t packed, but it was busy, more familiar faces than usual, people staying longer than they usually would. The music was a little louder, conversations overlapping, and every few minutes someone else stepped up to the bar asking for another round.

“Alright, that’s enough! Hand it over,” Safi said, taking the bottle before Moses could pour another. “You’re celebrating, not running the bar.”

“It’s just one more drink,” Moses protested, though he let her take it, already smiling like he knew he wasn’t winning that argument.

“That's your fifth ‘one more drink’!” Safi shot back. Then, louder, like she needed the whole bar to hear it again, “Dr. Murphy does not get to play bartender at his own celebration.”

A few people nearby laughed at that, Safi lifting her glass towards Moses with a playful, knowing grin.

Moses rubbed the back of his neck, half-amused, half-trying to deflect the attention. “It’s not even my first week.”

“Irrelevant details,” Safi said.

Amanda slid two drinks across the counter to a group at the end of the bar, catching the tail end of it. “You could just let him enjoy it,” she said, glancing between them.

“I am letting him enjoy it,” Safi replied immediately. “But he needs to be doing more than just pouring drinks and academic talks.”

Moses huffed out a laugh at that, shaking his head. “You’re acting like I’m about to give a lecture right now.”

“You might,” Safi said, completely serious. “You’ve been one conversation away from explaining something no one asked about all night.”

“That is not—” Moses started, then paused. “Okay, maybe once.”

“Twice,” Amanda added, already turning back to the counter.

“See?” Safi pointed at her. “Witness!”

Moses gave them both a look, but it didn’t hold. He let out a laugh right after.

Dr. Murphy.

It still sounded strange out loud, but it fits anyway. Caledon had made it official, part of the faculty and a full-time position. He’d worked for it longer than he’d admit, and now that it was real, everyone who cared about him had shown up to make sure he didn’t brush it off like it was nothing.

Amanda was glad for that. She moved through the bar without thinking, wiping down the counter, checking in on orders, stepping in where she needed to without being asked. The routine held, even with the extra noise, even with the way the space felt fuller than usual.

Safi was already being pulled into another conversation, retelling the same story with more exaggeration each time. Moses got dragged along with her, protesting just enough to make it convincing before giving in anyway.

Amanda watched it for a second before returning to what she was doing, reaching for another glass and drying it with practiced ease as the entrance to the bar opened. She glanced up towards the door and everything else seemed to fall away.

Max stood just inside the doorway, camera strap slung across her shoulder, looking like she had never left at all. The light from outside caught around her for a second before the door swung shut behind her, and for that brief moment, it felt like the world paused.

Amanda forgot what she was doing. Not entirely. Her hands didn’t drop, the glass didn’t slip, but everything else blurred at the edges. The noise of the bar, the conversation in front of her, the low music in the background—it all pulled back just enough to leave one thing in focus.

Max.

She looked… the same.

But there was something steadier in the way she carried herself now, something more confident, but it was still her in every way Amanda had once known too well. The camera strap rested across her shoulder like it always had, her hair still fell slightly uneven at the ends, and she paused just inside the door, taking in the room before moving forward. The familiar softness in her expression was still there, the same quiet focus in her eyes, the way her features settled when she wasn’t trying to be anything but herself.

Amanda noticed all of it immediately.

That was what unsettled her.

Not that Max was here, but that the details came back without effort—the small, specific things Amanda had spent months not thinking about. The way Max tilted her head when she was observing what was happening in front of her. The way she held onto her camera without realizing it, like it kept her anchored. The way her posture shifted when she wasn’t sure where to go next. The way her eyes lingered just a second longer than most people’s, like she was always seeing more than she let on.

Those were the things Amanda had fallen for.

It hadn’t been anything obvious back then. No single moment she could point to. It had been this—watching Max closely enough, often enough, that those details started to matter. She had learned them without trying, then started noticing them on purpose, until liking her wasn’t something she chose, just something that had already happened.

And now they were all still there.

Amanda had told herself she had moved on, and in every way possible, she had. She built a life that didn’t revolve around waiting, or wondering, or holding onto something that wasn’t hers anymore. She had people, she had her own routines, something steady enough that it didn’t feel like anything was missing.

But standing there, looking at Max again, it was hard to believe any of that had ever been enough.

Moses followed Amanda’s line of sight, he froze for half a second.

“Max?!” The name came out sharp with disbelief, and then he was already moving, a laugh breaking through as it caught up to him. “No way—hi!”

Max turned towards him immediately, her face lighting up. “Moses! Hi!”

“You’re actually here?!” he said, like he still didn’t believe it even as he closed the distance.

“I am!” Max laughed, stepping forward. “Surprise?”

Safi turned just behind him, and the second she saw Max, she broke into a grin.

“There you are!” she said, crossing the room without hesitation and pulling Max into a quick, tight hug. “You made it!”

“I made it,” Max repeated, laughing softly as she hugged her back.

Moses looked between them, still smiling, still catching up. “Okay, hold on—you two planned this?”

Safi pulled back just enough to glance at him, completely unapologetic. “Obviously.”

“You didn’t think I’d let your big night happen without doing something?” she added, nudging his arm.

Max lifted a hand slightly, a little sheepish. “Yasmin’s workshop lined up, and Safi told me about tonight, so… it worked out.”

“Worked out?” Moses let out another laugh, shaking his head. “This is—wow. This is really good. I can't believe it.”

“Told you,” Safi said, satisfied.

They fell into conversation easily after that, Safi already asking questions, Moses responding in pieces between laughing and trying to process the fact that Max was actually standing in front of him.

And through all of it, Amanda didn’t move.

She stayed behind the bar, exactly where she had been when the door opened, the glass still in her hand though she had long since stopped drying it.

Because everything she had spent the past year pushing aside came rushing back—every detail she had trained herself not to linger on, every habit she had forced herself to break, and every feeling she had learned to carry quietly instead of giving in to.

Max was right there again, fitting into the space like she never left. The way she smiled when she laughed, and the way her shoulders relaxed when she recognized someone she cared about.

Amanda had been fine.

She knew she had been. She built something steady, something that didn’t depend on anything that could disappear without warning. She had people. She had a life that made sense without—

Without Max.

But standing there, watching her slip so easily back into something familiar, watching Safi and Moses welcome her like no time had passed—Amanda felt it clearly.

She hadn’t forgotten, she had just taught herself not to reach.

Now Max was right there again, only a few feet away, laughing like nothing had changed. And everything Amanda had pushed down rose back up, sharp and certain, like it had never left at all.

“Amanda.”

The voice came from her right, close enough to cut through the noise without needing to be loud.

She blinked, the bar snapping back into place around her—the conversations, the music, the glass in her hand that she hadn’t realized she’d stopped mid-pour.

Vinh was leaning against the counter, watching her more closely than usual.

“You okay?” he asked.

Amanda didn’t answer immediately. She finished the pour first, steadying the angle of the bottle before setting it down. She slid the drink across to the customer waiting at the side with a brief nod, her movements clean and practiced, like nothing had interrupted her at all.

Only then did she respond. “Yeah all good.”

Vinh followed her line of sight without asking. His gaze landed on Max, and he gave a small, knowing nod.

“Didn’t know she was actually gonna make it,” he said, more to himself than anything else.

Amanda kept her attention on the counter, reaching for a towel. “You knew?”

“Yeah,” Vinh replied, resting his forearms against the bar. “The photography workshop has been locked in for a while,” he said. “Yasmin's been pushing for it. They're not the only ones who miss Caulfield.”

He gestured lightly towards Moses, towards the small group gathered around Max.

That made sense.

Vinh had always been somewhere in the middle, not as out of touch as Amanda, but not as close as Safi and Moses. He still talked to Max every now and then, out of obligation and friendship, enough to know where she was, what she was doing.

Amanda hadn’t talked to her at all. Not once, not since everything.

She hadn’t blocked Max, hadn’t cut her off in any way that would make it final. She just stopped reaching out. Let the space stay where it was, let time pass without trying to close it herself.

If Max wanted to talk, she would.

Amanda had decided early on that it wouldn’t be her this time.

And Max hadn’t, even now.

Vinh shifted slightly, glancing back at her. “I should’ve mentioned it,” he added. “Didn’t think—”

Amanda shook her head, cutting him. “It’s a Caledon thing. You don’t have to tell me everything that goes on there.”

He studied her for a second, like he was checking whether she actually meant that.

“Still,” Vinh said, quieter now. “Sorry.”

Across the bar, Safi’s voice carried easily, Moses responding between laughs while Max listened, slipping into their rhythm like she had always been part of it.

Amanda caught herself watching, she looked back down before it lingered too long.

“She looks well,” Vinh added, still watching the group across the bar.

Amanda’s hand stilled for half a second on the glass she was drying before she continued. “Yeah. I'm glad she is.”

It was true and that was part of the problem.

From where she was, she could see what was happening. It was still the same as earlier. Safi was mid-sentence again, one hand on Max’s arm like she hadn’t let go of her since she arrived, while Moses tried to respond and laugh at the same time. Max stood between them easily, like the year in between hadn’t created any distance that mattered.

Amanda caught herself looking again. She pulled her focus back to the counter.

Vinh glanced at her, then back at Max. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but there was an understanding there that didn’t need to be spelled out.

He knew enough.

About Max. About Amanda. About how they had stayed in each other’s lives after the breakup, until it slowly thinned out, not from a fight but from the kind of distance that builds when no one says anything to stop it. Especially when Max was so focused on ensuring Caledon's safety and the return of her first love.

Amanda finished the glass in her hand and set it aside, reaching for the next. The repetition steadied her, kept everything contained where it needed to be.

“You gonna talk to her?” Vinh asked, not pushing, just asking.

Amanda didn’t look up. “I don’t know.”

It was the most honest thing she’d said so far.

Vinh accepted that without pressing further. “Alright.”

He straightened, tapping the counter once before stepping back. “I’ll be around,” he said, glancing towards the room. “Reggie’s probably nearby, he’s going to lose it when he sees Caulfield. She was his favorite professor.”

Amanda nodded. “Okay.”

Vinh moved off into the crowd, leaving her where she stood.

Amanda picked up another glass and kept working. The bar moved around her again, steady and familiar, something she could anchor herself. She didn’t have look up to know exactly where Max was. And for the first time in a year, the distance between them didn’t feel like something she controlled anymore.

Amanda exhaled slowly, steadying herself.

She had been fine. She should be fine.

The past year hadn’t been about Max. It hadn’t been about holding on or waiting for something to return. She had gone on dates, met people who were kind and easy to be with, people who didn’t carry history in the way they spoke to her. She had let things be simple where they could be.

And it worked, until now.

Because this wasn’t about missing Max, this was about realizing she had never actually let go of her.

Amanda’s gaze stayed on her longer than it should have, longer than she would have allowed herself if she had more control over it. She could feel it, the way something familiar was settling back into place too easily, like it had been there the entire time, just quiet enough not to demand attention.

Max turned slightly, her eyes moving across the room. Then they landed on Amanda.

And that was enough to undo the rest of it.

Amanda felt it in the way her chest tightened, in the way her breath caught. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was undeniable, and worse—it was familiar in a way she hadn’t expected to feel again.

She didn’t smile, didn’t step forward. She just stood there, steady on the outside, while something inside her settled with a realization she couldn’t ignore.

She hadn’t forgotten Max, she had just gotten used to not having her.

And now, she was here, standing in the same space again, looking at her like nothing had been lost. And Amanda knew, with uncomfortable certainty, that whatever she had buried hadn’t disappeared.

It had only been waiting.

And worse, Max didn’t look away.

For a moment that stretched longer than it should have, she held Amanda’s gaze, like the distance between them hadn’t been enough to blur anything that mattered. There was no confusion in it, no hesitation—just recognition, immediate and certain, with something softer settling in her expression.

Amanda felt it affect her somehow.

It wasn’t enough to break her composure, but it was enough to shake something she had kept steady for a year. It made everything feel closer than it should have, like the space between them had collapsed in a way she hadn’t prepared for.

Max moved slightly, just enough that Amanda thought she might come over.

The thought settled quickly and uncomfortably in her chest.

Because distance was the only thing making this manageable. As long as Max stayed where she was—across the room and be part of Safi and Moses’s conversation—Amanda could stay where she was too, behind the counter, grounded in something familiar. She didn’t have to decide what this meant or what she would say. She didn’t have to confront anything she had already set aside.

But if Max walked over, that would change.

It would make this immediate in a way she wasn’t ready for.

But suddenly, Max paused.

Amanda noticed it—the slight shift in her stance, the way her attention flickered when Safi said something, enough to pull her back.

The moment passed.

Safi reached for her arm, already dragging her back into the conversation, and Max turned with it, her attention settling there instead. The space between her and Amanda stayed exactly where it was, unchanged.

Amanda looked down at the counter, preparing another order. Her movements stayed consistent, even as everything else was changing.

But as long as she stayed here, in her space, she didn’t have to figure out what came next. She didn’t have to decide whether she was ready to talk, or if she even wanted to.

It was easier this way.

Amanda wasn’t sure how she managed to avoid her.

It wasn’t intentional at first, not something she planned out, but it happened anyway. Every time she felt Max getting closer—heard her voice getting closer towards her and catching the movement in her peripheral vision—something else pulled her away before it could turn into an actual interaction.

Safi called Max over once, asking for help with something that didn’t really need help, keeping her there longer than necessary with a conversation that drifted just enough to hold her attention. Another time, Vinh stepped in at the counter, asking about something he could’ve figured out on his own, keeping her attention long enough that when Amanda glanced up again, Max had already been redirected somewhere else.

Neither of them said anything about it. They didn’t have to, Amanda noticed either way.

She would thank them later. For now, she let it happen.

She stayed behind the bar, moving through orders, pouring drinks, sliding them across the counter with practiced ease. Her hands stayed steady even when her focus drifted, even when she was aware, constantly, of where Max was in the room without needing to look.

After a while, Amanda set a glass down and leaned slightly towards the opening that led into the back.

“Hey,” she called, just enough to get the staff's attention.

One of the staff inside looked up from where they were lining up orders. “Yeah?”

“Can you cover the counter for a bit?” Amanda asked. “Just for a few minutes.”

“Yeah, sure,” they said immediately, already moving towards her.

Amanda stepped aside as they came through, giving a quick nod in thanks before slipping into the back herself.

The noise of the bar dulled the second she crossed into the staff room, the shift immediate enough that it felt like stepping out of something that had been pressing in on her all night.

Inside, it was quieter. Orders were still being prepped, bottles lined up, and tickets stacked neatly.

Amanda moved past it, stopping near the wall, giving herself a second to just stand there without needing to move.

She wasn’t falling apart, she didn’t feel out of control.

But the constant awareness, the effort it took to keep everything level, had started to build in a way she couldn’t ignore anymore.

Max was here.

That was the fact she couldn’t work around.

And everything that came with that—the familiarity, the details, and the way it all settled back into place too easily—hadn’t gone anywhere since she walked in.

Amanda pressed her lips together, looking down briefly before straightening again.

After a moment, she pushed herself off the wall and stepped back towards the door. She didn’t stay long, just enough to reset, to make sure nothing showed when she walked back out.

When she returned to the bar, the rhythm picked up around her again without pause. The staff she had called over stepped aside, handing the space back without question. And Amanda took her place behind the counter once, reaching for the next glass like nothing had changed.

Because for now, she could still manage this.

For a few minutes, it worked.

The noise of the bar filled in the gaps, conversations overlapping just enough that nothing stood out too sharply. She kept her focus where it needed to be, on the counter, on the orders, on anything that didn’t require her to look too far beyond it.

She didn’t look up.

Not until—

“Hey Amanda.”

Max stood at the counter, one hand resting lightly against the edge. There was no hesitation in the way she approached this time, no hovering at a distance, no waiting to be pulled into the moment by someone else. She had decided to come over with a purpose.

Amanda held her gaze. “Hey.”

Max took her in for a second, quiet and attentive in that way Amanda remembered too well, like she was noticing more than she was saying. “I was going to come over earlier,” she said, a small pause slipping in, “but… there was a lot going on.”

“Busy night,” Amanda replied, already reaching for a glass.

“Yeah,” Max said, her eyes dropping briefly to Amanda’s hands as she worked, then lifting again. “I can see that.”

The silence that followed was awkward. It sat between them, heavier than it should have been for something this simple.

Amanda set the glass down and looked at her fully. “What do you want, Max?”

It was direct in a way that left no room to circle around it.

Max blinked, caught off guard. The reaction showed before she could smooth it over, a slight hesitation that didn’t quite belong to the version of Amanda she remembered. “I—uh,” she started, then steadied herself, “a drink.”

A beat passed before she added, quieter, “And to say hi.”

Amanda gave a small nod and turned. “Still the same as before?”

Max watched her for a moment, something in her expression shifting at that, familiarity landing where she hadn’t expected it to. “Yeah,” she said. “Same’s good.”

Amanda poured without rushing, her focus fixed on the motion. Max didn’t look away this time, her attention staying on her like she was trying to reconcile what she was seeing with what she remembered.

“You look—” Max started, then stopped, like the word she wanted didn’t quite reach her tongue. She frowned slightly, thinking it through before trying again. “You’re… different.”

It wasn’t judgmental. If anything, it sounded like she was still figuring out what she meant by it.

Amanda didn’t react to that. She finished the pour and slid the glass towards her. “It’s been a year, Caulfield.”

“I know,” Max said, quick, almost reflexive. She let out a short laugh. “I just didn’t expect it.”

Amanda didn’t answer.

Max picked up the drink, turning it slightly in her hand before taking a sip. When she set it down, she didn’t move away, her attention staying on Amanda like she was trying to match what she was seeing now with what she remembered.

“I thought you’d say something else,” she admitted.

Amanda glanced at her. “Like what?”

Max shrugged lightly, a little awkward. “I don’t know. Maybe I'm—it's just… something feels off,” she said, trailing off like she wasn’t sure how to put it.

“Off how?” Amanda asked.

Max met her gaze, then shook her head slightly, like she was trying to get the words right. “Like you’re keeping me at a distance.”

Amanda held her stare for a second, then her expression softened just slightly, the edge easing out of it. She glanced down at the counter, her hand resting flat against it before she spoke again.

“I’m not trying to,” she said, quieter now. “I just… haven’t talked to you in a long while, Max. How did you expect me to react?”

Her reply had affected Max immediately, her shoulders loosening just a touch as a small, fleeting smile crossed her face in understanding.

Amanda leaned lightly against the counter, as she added, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Yeah that makes sense,” Max replied, nodding. “Safi said she was trying to keep it low… I didn’t think she meant from you too.”

That almost pulled a reaction out of Amanda, but she kept it contained.

Max glanced around the bar for a second before looking back at her. “Moses looks like he’s having the best night of his life.”

“He is,” Amanda said. “You being here definitely helped with that.”

Max’s expression softened, and her smile came back with it. “Good... That's good. That was the point of this surprise.”

A pause settled between them again.

“Look I... I didn’t want to just… show up and not talk to you,” Max suddenly said. “That would’ve felt worse.”

She glanced down at her drink for a second, then back at Amanda, like she was trying to say this right.

“I know we didn’t leave things in a bad place,” she said.

“We didn’t,” Amanda agreed.

Max nodded. “When I left, I thought I’d text you,” she admitted. “Like—properly. Not just quick check-ins.”

Amanda stayed quiet, letting her continue.

“I kept thinking I’d do it when things settled,” Max went on, her voice quieter now. “Then it didn’t. And after a while it just felt… weird to suddenly show up in your messages again.”

She gave a small, shake of her head. “And the longer I left it, the more it felt like I’d missed the window.”

Amanda held her gaze, but it took a second before she answered, like she needed to sort through what to say without letting too much of it show at once.

“I thought you would,” she said.

Max blinked slightly. “Really?”

Amanda nodded. “At some point.”

She didn’t look away, but something in her expression changed—vulnerable, more honest than it had been since Max walked up. “I kept waiting for it,” she added, not sharply, just stating it as it was. “Not all the time. Just… until I accepted that it won’t happen.”

Max’s grip tightened slightly around her glass.

Amanda glanced down briefly, then back at her. “I didn’t want to be the one to reach out first,” she said. “Not because I didn’t want to talk to you. I just…” She paused, then let out a sigh. “I wanted it to be you.”

Max didn’t interrupt.

Amanda continued, quieter now but more certain. “So I let it sit. Told myself I was fine with it.” A brief, almost apologetic smile flickered across her lips. “And I was. Mostly.”

Max watched her closely, her gaze softening.

“I just didn’t expect to feel like this again now that you're here,” Amanda admitted, the words slipping out before she could pull them back.

Max didn’t look away, curiousity shown in her expression. “Like what?”

Amanda held her gaze for a second, then shook her head slightly. “Like nothing changed,” she said. “Which is… not great.”

Max frowned at that. “I didn’t mean for it to turn into a year,” she said.

“I can tell,” Amanda replied.

She meant it. And that was the problem.

Because it would’ve been easier if it had been intentional. If there had been a reason she could point to and decide how to feel about it. But there wasn’t.

It had just… happened.

Max studied her for a second, like she was trying to figure out what to say next. Then she nodded, opening her mouth to respond until—

“Aha—there you are!”

Safi’s voice cut in before either of them could say anything else.

She appeared at Max’s side, one hand already brushing lightly against her arm as she leaned in. “Moses is getting pulled into another round of congratulations and I refuse to let him do that alone,” she said, half-laughing. “You’re part of this now, you don’t get to hide over here!”

Max blinked, pulled slightly out of the moment. “I wasn’t hiding—”

“You were absolutely hiding,” Safi cut in, not missing a beat. Then, softer, more casual, “Come on!”

For a second, her eyes flicked towards Amanda.

It was quick, but it was enough.

A glance that said she understood exactly what she had just walked into, and exactly what she was interrupting.

Amanda met the look just as briefly, keeping her expression neutral, not stopping her, not acknowledging it either.

Max hesitated for a moment, her attention shifting back to Amanda like she wasn’t quite ready to leave it there. “I’ll—” she started, then stopped, the rest of it not quite forming.

Amanda didn’t move. “You should go,” she said firmly.

Max searched her face for a second longer, like she was trying to hold onto something before it slipped again, then gave a small nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

Safi’s hand tightened lightly around her arm, already guiding her back towards the crowd. “We’re celebrating, remember?” she added with a grin. “You don’t get to disappear on us yet!”

Max let herself be pulled along, but not before glancing back once more.

Then she was gone, folded back into the noise, into Safi and Moses and everything Amanda had been keeping at a distance all night.

The space in front of the counter felt noticeably emptier after.

Amanda stayed where she was, her hand resting against the edge of the counter for a second before she pushed off and continued her work.

Amanda made it through the rest of the night without talking to Max again.

It wasn’t something she actively decided, but it happened anyway. The bar kept her moving, orders coming in just fast enough that she always had something to focus on, somewhere to look that wasn’t across the room. She stayed behind the counter, steady, controlled, letting the rhythm carry her through the rest of the shift.

Still, she was aware of Max.

That didn’t go away.

Every now and then, their eyes met. It never turned into anything more than that. No second approach, no attempt to continue what they started earlier.

Just glances.

Max stayed close to Safi and Moses for most of the night, folding easily into their space, laughing, talking, and celebrating.

By the time the crowd thinned and the bar finally quieted down, Amanda let the rest of the night carry her through on autopilot. She closed up like she always did—wiping down tables, checking the back, and locking everything in place. It was routine, something she could move through without thinking too much about anything else.

But the quiet followed her home.

When she finally lay down, staring up at the ceiling, there was nothing left to keep her occupied.

And that was when it caught up.

She couldn’t deny it.

Seeing Max again had stirred something she thought had already settled, something she had learned to live around without letting it interfere with anything else. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was there, persistent enough that she couldn’t ignore it now that everything else had gone quiet.

Because the truth was simple.

She missed her.

And realizing that made everything she’d spent the past year building feel less steady than she wanted it to be.

Because she had worked to get here. Worked to stop checking her phone, to stop wondering if Max would reach out, to stop replaying every conversation and picking apart what she could have said differently. She had taught herself how to live without expecting Max to come back into her life like that.

And it had taken time, enough that she thought it had finally settled.

But seeing her again, hearing her, standing across from her like nothing had really changed, undid more of that than she was ready for. It came back too easily.

It showed in the way her attention kept returning to Max without meaning to, how every word she said suddenly mattered—how it sounded, whether it came off too distant or not enough, whether Max noticed.

It shouldn’t have mattered like this anymore, but it did and that was the part she couldn’t ignore.

Amanda pressed her lips together, grounding herself in what she already knew. Max was with Chloe, and that hadn’t changed. It wasn’t going to.

They had ended things knowing it wasn’t going to work, that whatever they had wasn’t something that could hold in the long run. Max had said it clearly back then, and Amanda had accepted it, even when it hadn’t been easy.

She had moved on, or at least learned how to live like she had. Tonight didn’t undo that, it couldn’t, but it made it harder to ignore what was still there underneath it.

Her phone buzzed against the nightstand, pulling her out of it. Amanda frowned slightly, turning her head before reaching for it.

A message from Max.

She stared at the name for a second longer than necessary before opening it.

Max:
hey

i keep thinking about what you said
about waiting for me to text

i’m sorry it took me this long

Her thumb hovered over the screen, then dropped back against the mattress.

Of course she texted.

Amanda typed before she could overthink it.

Amanda:
it’s okay

She paused, staring at the message for a second, then added—

Amanda:
for what it’s worth, i’m glad you’re back

The morning came slower than usual.

Amanda didn’t rush out of bed. She stayed there for a while, staring at the ceiling. Her phone sat on the nightstand where she had left it, and when she finally reached for it, the screen lit up with more than she expected.

Max’s name was still at the top, but there were more messages now. Amanda didn’t open them fully, just enough to see that she kept talking. It was a thread of thoughts, bits about the workshop, about what she’d been doing, things she might’ve said in person if they’d had more time. It felt like Max trying to close the gap in the only way she knew how.

Below that were other messages.

Safi had checked in sometime in the night, a quick you good? followed by a you handled that better than I expected tbh. Vinh’s was shorter, just a you survived? that didn’t need elaboration. Moses had sent a longer message, thanking her for the night, for hosting, for everything, the kind of gratitude that felt genuine even through text.

Amanda locked her phone and set it aside, deciding she’d read it later after getting up.

By the time she arrived at Snapping Turtle, everything had settled into something manageable again. Mornings were always quieter, slower, with only a handful of regulars stopping by for breakfast before heading off to whatever the day had waiting for them.

She moved behind the counter with ease, slipping into routine without needing to think about it.

The door opened, and she didn’t look up right away. She finished what she was doing first, letting the moment pass like it didn’t matter, before her gaze lifted towards the entrance.

Max, of course.

There was no hesitation this time. Max didn’t pause to take in the room the way she had the night before. She walked straight to the counter and slid onto one of the stools, like she had already decided exactly where she was going to be.

Amanda noticed.

“Good morning, Amanda,” Max said.

“Morning, Max,” she replied, a small smile slipping in as she met her gaze.

Max rested her arms lightly against the counter, her attention settling on Amanda without that same careful distance from before. “How are you?”

Amanda let out a laugh. “I feel like I should be asking you that,” she said. “But I’m good. You?”

“I’m good,” Max said, returning the smile. “Tired, but it was a fun night.”

There was a brief pause between them. It was still a little awkward, but not in the same way as last night.

“I hope you guys still do breakfast,” Max said, glancing at the menu out of habit more than anything.

“We still do,” Amanda replied, the edge from last night noticeably gone. She held Max’s gaze for a second, then added, a touch lighter, “We didn’t change that much, you know?”

Max’s mouth curved slightly at that. “Good. I still have an excuse not to cook breakfast myself.”

“What would you like to have?”

Max shrugged. “I don’t know. What would you recommend me?”

Amanda glanced at her, the corner of her mouth lifting just slightly. “Seriously, Caulfield? You want breakfast recommendations?”

Max let out a small laugh at that, something lighter than anything from the night before. “Okay, okay. Then one order of my usual please.”

That made her froze for a second.

It was the way Max said it—like she remembered, like she trusted Amanda to still know, like a year hadn’t come between them at all. She didn't know why it affected her now when she had done the same last night with her drink. And the fact that it was over a simple order. Maybe it was because she had time to process how she felt about the photographer's return and that didn't feel good.

“Alright, coming right up,” Amanda said.

Max didn’t look away as she moved, her attention staying on her.

“I left you a few messages,” Max said after a moment, careful, like she was trying not to make it bigger than it was.

“I saw.”

Max nodded, taking that at face value. “You don’t have to read through all of it,” she added, a little more self-aware now. “I think I just… kept going.”

“That seems like a you thing,” Amanda said, her tone lighter, easier.

Max let out a small laugh, glancing down before looking back at her. “Yeah. I didn’t really know where to stop. I just—” she hesitated briefly, then said it, “I didn’t want to leave it like… that.”

Amanda held her gaze this time, not looking away. “Max, it’s okay,” she said, and it carried something deeper for the both of them.

Max stilled slightly, like she hadn’t expected that.

“You talked to me,” Amanda continued, quieter but certain. “That’s already more than what happened before.”

Max’s expression softened at that, the tension easing out of her shoulders as she took it in. “Okay,” she said, almost under her breath.

Amanda didn’t look away. “You’re fine, Max. And like I said—” she paused just slightly, before continuing, “I’m glad you’re back.”

And this time, it felt like she had accepted it. That Max is here to stay, even if it was just temporarily.

Max’s expression softened at that, something warmer settling in. “Yeah,” she said, a little more certain this time. “I’m… glad too.”

Amanda had forgotten how easy it was to talk to Max.

With the bar moving at a slower pace, there was space for a real conversation, not just quick exchanges between orders. Max filled in the gaps naturally, going over what she had already started in her messages the night before, talking about the workshop, about the opportunities she’d taken over the past year, the galleries she’d been part of.

Amanda reacted as per usual but none of it was new to her.

She had kept up.

Safi and Moses mentioned things here and there, and Crosstalk made it easy to come across updates without trying too hard. There were even times she’d asked her siblings or cousins to check out an exhibit if it was nearby, passing it off casually like it didn’t mean anything.

She would never tell Max that, not now. Still, it made the conversation easier. And for a while, it almost felt normal again, like this was something they had never really lost.

At some point, Safi had come in.

Amanda only realized it later, catching the familiar figure settled by the window with a coffee in hand, watching them with quiet amusement. She hadn’t interrupted—hadn’t tried to pull Max away or even call out—just stayed there, letting them have it.

Max hadn’t noticed her at all, she’d been too focused on Amanda, and that, more than anything, made her feel something.

After a while, Max glanced at the time, her expression shifting just slightly. “I should probably head out,” she said. “I’ve got to set up for class.”

Amanda nodded. “Yeah, go.”

Max didn’t move right away, lingering for a second longer than necessary like she wasn’t quite ready to break away from it. “I’ll come by again later,” she added, more certain this time.

“Okay.”

Max slid off the stool, but before she stepped away, she looked back at her. “Thanks for the breakfast. And… yeah, for keeping me company.”

Amanda’s smile came more easily now. “Anytime, Caulfield.”

Max smiled back and waved before finally turning and heading out. Amanda watched her go, the smile staying just a little longer than she expected even after the door closed behind her.

The bar felt quieter after that, more than it had all morning. Amanda let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and turned back to the counter, picking up where she left off.

“She stayed longer than I expected and she didn’t even notice me!”

Amanda didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Safi had already moved from the window to the counter, sliding into the seat Max had just vacated like she’d been waiting for the moment to step in.

“Morning to you too, Safi,” Amanda said.

Safi leaned her elbows against the counter, watching her closely. “Don’t deflect. How was that?”

Amanda shrugged lightly. “It’s fine.”

“‘Fine,’” Safi repeated, clearly unconvinced.

“It was just… catching up,” Amanda said, keeping her tone flat.

Safi studied her for a second, then let out a small sigh. “Okay, before you say anything—” she lifted a hand slightly, “I’m sorry.”

Amanda paused.

“For not telling you she was coming,” Safi added, her tone more serious now. “I should’ve given you a heads up. That’s on me.”

Amanda held her gaze for a moment, taking it in. “I get it, it's no big deal,” she said.

Safi didn’t look convinced. She watched her a second longer, like she was trying to read past the answer. “Really?”

Amanda nodded once. “Yeah. It’s fine, Safi. It already happened.”

Safi leaned back slightly, but her attention didn’t leave her. “You okay?”

Amanda let out a heavier breath this time. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “Right now… maybe. But I don’t know how I’m going to be when she keeps showing up.”

Safi nodded slowly, like that made sense.

“She’s gonna be around,” she said after a moment. “At least for the week.”

“I know.”

“And she wants to talk to you.”

Amanda glanced down briefly, then back up. “I know.”

Safi tilted her head slightly. “And?”

Amanda didn’t answer right away, because that was the part she hadn’t figured out yet.

“And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that… knowing there’s a lot we left buried,” she said finally, honest than ever.

Safi didn’t cut in. She waited, letting the silence hold while Amanda worked through what she needed to say.

“I know I’m not the only one who still had things to… talk to Max about,” Amanda said, her voice steady at first, until it wasn’t. She looked at Safi then, and Safi caught it immediately, the shift, the weight behind it. “But you guys—”

She let out a frustrated sigh, shaking her head slightly. “You guys had a year. A whole year of still talking to her, still knowing what was going on with her life. And me?” Her gaze dropped to the counter. “I had none. Even after I made it clear I wanted to stay in touch or at least be someone she could reach out to.”

She paused, like she was trying to keep it together, but the words kept coming anyway.

“She explained it. I get it. I do,” Amanda said, quieter now. “But it still hurts, Safi. It still—” She exhaled, pressing her lips together before continuing. “We went from friends, to dating, back to friends, and then… nothing. And now she’s back and acting like we can just pick it up again.”

Her laugh came out softer, but there was no humor in it. “Maybe it didn’t feel like that for her, like this is normal, but it's different for me Safi. It was a whole damn year of silence."

It hit her, then—the fact that she was saying all of this to Safi, of all people. Max’s best friend. First thing in the morning, no less. But then again, she trusted her more than anyone else.

Safi didn’t interrupt. She just reached across the counter and took Amanda’s hand, her thumb brushing lightly over the back of it.

“Hey,” she said, softer now. “It's okay. You have the rights to feel that way and you don’t have to figure everything out just because she’s back.”

Amanda glanced down at their hands, then back up.

“Take your space if you need it,” Safi continued. “Text me, text Moses, heck text Vinh! We’ll make sure you’re not put in a position you’re not ready for. You don’t have to deal with her when you can’t.”

Amanda let out a sigh in relief, some of the tension easing just slightly. She gave Safi a faint smile. “Thank you.”

Safi squeezed her hand once before letting out a quiet laugh. “Hey, it’s the least I can do. You helped me through my mess, remember? Even when I was trying to sort out my own… questionable feelings about Max.”

Amanda rolled her eyes, the moment lightening just enough. “Caulfield really needs to leave something for the rest of us.”

That earned another laugh from Safi.

“Well, I’m out of that now,” Safi said, pushing herself up from the stool. “I’ve accepted that best friend is my final form.”

“There’s always the sister role.”

“Very funny, Thomas.”

Safi gave her one last look before stepping back. “I’ve gotta head to Caledon. I unfortunately still have responsibilities.”

Amanda nodded, a smile settling on her face. “Have a good day, Safi.”

“You too,” Safi said, already moving towards the door. “I’ll see you later.”

The next few days settled into something new with Max Caulfield's return.

She showed up in the mornings, sometimes in the afternoons, but almost always at Snapping Turtle at some point in the day. It was enough to make Amanda realize that Max was making the effort and she wasn’t subtle about it.

She stayed longer than she needed to, lingered by the counter even when the conversation had already finished, and found reasons to keep talking even when there wasn’t much left to say.

Amanda, on the other hand, kept her distance. She stayed within the boundaries she had set for herself, making sure she wasn’t letting herself latch onto Max like she did before. She talked to her, laughed with her, responded when she needed to, but she didn’t reach for more. She made sure of that.

It should have made things easier. But it didn’t, because Max kept closing the distance anyway.

There were days Amanda found herself at Caledon, a routine she had built long before Max came back into the picture. Lunch with Safi, sometimes Moses joining in, afternoons spent between their schedules—it wasn’t new for her, but it was for Max. The first time Max saw her there, she looked genuinely surprised, like she was trying to figure out what she was doing there.

“You hang out here?” she asked.

Safi didn’t even hesitate to answer. “She’s been coming around for a while. At least once a week. You just weren’t here to see it.”

Max took that in quietly, like she was adding it to a list, and after that, she started showing up at the same time more often too. It meant Amanda couldn’t avoid her, even if she wanted to—but the truth was, she didn’t try that hard.

She told herself she was fine, and for the most part, she was. She handled it better than she expected, kept her footing, didn’t slip back into old habits, and didn’t let the familiarity pull her into something she emotionally ready for.

Still, Max made it difficult.

She talked to Amanda like she always had, included her without hesitation, and stayed close in a way that felt natural to her but deliberate to Amanda. It was just Max, choosing to be there over and over again, and Amanda didn’t know what to do with that.

It became harder to ignore when Chloe was part of it too.

She wasn’t physically there, but she was present enough to matter. Max mentioned her easily, sometimes she called, looping everyone in without thinking twice, her voice coming through Max’s phone like she belonged there as much as anyone else.

Amanda liked her, and that was the problem.

There was no tension to push against, no reason to pull away. She got along with Chloe, trading music references back and forth, catching things the others didn’t always pick up on. Moses got along with her too, drifting into conversations about astronomy Amanda only half followed but understood enough to see the connection.

Everything worked out too well.

But deep inside, Amanda knew that the unresolved tension would catch up to them both.

It happened on a slower morning, the kind where the bar didn’t need much from her and the work came in small, and manageable waves. Amanda just did her part.

Max had been there for a while, quieter than usual, watching in that observant way she had when something caught her attention. Her camera sat on the counter beside her, close enough to reach without looking, and Amanda noticed it in the same way she noticed everything else.

She tried not to.

“You're amazing at that,” Max said after a moment.

Amanda glanced over. “At what?”

Max nodded slightly towards her hands. “At like... you don't need look to get everything right. Like you could run this bar blindfolded.”

Amanda let out a small huff and rolled her eyes. “It’s called working here for years, Caulfield.”

“I know,” Max said, a faint smile settling in. “It’s just… nice to watch.”

Amanda shook her head lightly. “You’re easily impressed.”

Max didn’t answer, and for a second it seemed like the moment would pass, until the quiet was broken by the sharp, familiar sound of a shutter.

Amanda looked up immediately.

Max lowered the camera just enough, like she hadn’t expected to be caught that quickly. “Sorry,” she said, adjusting her grip. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“You just took a picture of me.”

Max nodded, more careful now. “Yeah. I can delete it if you want.”

Amanda didn’t respond right away, and the pause stretched just long enough for Max to add, more quietly this time, “You just looked—um… really good.”

That was what did it.

Not the photo, not even the fact that she’d taken it—it was the way Max said it, how easily it pulled her back into something she had already tried to leave behind. Amanda felt the reaction before she could stop it, her chest tightening as her heart answered too quickly, too easily, like she hadn’t spent the past year teaching herself how to quiet that part of herself down.

She didn’t like it, didn’t like how quickly it came back, or how little it took for everything she had worked to keep in place to slip.

“Max,” Amanda said, and even to her own ears, it sounded steadier than she felt, “don’t.”

Max stilled, her grip on the camera tightening just slightly. “Don’t what?”

Amanda hesitated for a fraction of a second, like she was choosing how much to say, then shook her head lightly. “Just… don’t... compliment me like that,” she said, quieter now, but no less firm. There was nothing wrong with compliments, it was that it came from Max.

Max’s expression shifted, subtle, but enough. The ease from before pulled back, replaced with something more careful, more aware. She nodded after a beat, slower this time. “Got it. Yeah. I’m sorry.”

She set the camera down between them, like she understood this time, and didn’t reach for it again.

The conversation continued after that, and Amanda let it happen, responding where she needed to while keeping everything else firmly in place.

But the feeling didn’t go away.

Because it wasn’t just what Max had said, it was what it brought back with it.

There had been a time when this was normal, when Max would take photos of her without asking, catching her mid-laugh or mid-sentence like it mattered. Amanda had leaned into it back then, stepping into frame on purpose, teasing just enough to make it seem casual even when it wasn’t.

“You getting my good side, Caulfield?”

Max would hum softly, adjusting the lens like she was being careful with something more than just the shot. “All your sides are your good side.”

Amanda used to laugh that off, every time, but she remembered how it felt to be seen like that, to be chosen in a way that lingered even after the moment passed. She had let herself get used to it, had let herself believe it meant something that would stay.

And now Max stood across from her again, camera resting where she had set it down, like it had always belonged there, like this version of them hadn’t been left behind.

Amanda felt sick.

Not because Max had done anything wrong, but because her first instinct hadn’t been to shut it down—it had been to fall back into it, to let herself feel something again.

She forced her focus back onto the present, onto the bar, onto anything that would ground her, but the thought stayed with her, sharper now, harder to push aside.

After that, Amanda decided to change her routine.

At first, it was subtle. Leaving a little earlier than usual, taking her breaks at different times, keeping herself occupied in ways she hadn’t needed to before. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, that she was just being practical, just managing her time better—but the pattern formed quickly, consistent enough that even she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t intentional.

She began limiting her visits to Caledon.

What used to be routine became occasional, then inconsistent. On the days she did go, she kept it brief. Just enough time to check in with Safi or Moses, just enough to make it look normal, before finding a reason to leave.

And somehow, Max was always just about to arrive when she did.

Amanda picked up on it faster than she expected. The timing, the near-misses, the way their schedules seemed to circle each other without ever quite overlapping. It became easier to leave before Max could walk into the same room, easier to miss her by minutes than to sit through something she wasn’t ready to face.

Safi noticed, of course she did.

“You just missed her,” Safi said one afternoon, watching her a little too closely, like she was waiting to see how Amanda would react to it.

Amanda barely gave her anything. She gave a small nod, keeping her tone even. “Yeah. I’ve gotta head out anyway.”

Safi didn’t call her out on it then, didn’t push, but she didn’t let it go unnoticed either.

Later on, Amanda brought it up herself.

“If she tries… can you just tell me ahead of time when she’s coming?” she said one day, quieter than she intended, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear it.

Safi studied her for a moment, something unreadable passing through her expression before she finally nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”

And that was enough.

After that, Amanda worked around it more deliberately.

At Snapping Turtle, it became easier to step away without making it obvious. There were always people around to cover if she needed a break, and she started leaning on that more than she ever had before. It didn’t take long for Joey to notice.

“You keep dipping out right before the same person shows up,” he said one morning, not even looking up from what he was doing. “That’s not subtle, you know.”

Amanda rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite behind it. “I’m just taking my breaks when I can.”

“Uh-huh.”

He didn’t push, but he didn’t pretend to believe her either.

Still, he helped.

He covered for her when she asked, took over the counter when she needed to step out, didn’t question it more than that. Sometimes she didn’t even have to explain, just one look, and he would nod like he already understood.

And for a while, it worked. But it didn’t mean it wasn’t obvious.

Because the more Amanda adjusted around her, the harder it became to pretend it was just coincidence. The near-misses started to feel less accidental, the timing too precise to ignore, and even without seeing her, Amanda could feel it shifting.

Max had noticed.

And sooner or later, she was going to stop letting it happen like this.

And one day, it finally came.

Amanda just got home. She had just settled in, halfway through taking off her jacket, when her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at it without thinking, then froze when she saw the name.

Max:
hey
are you home

And then—

Max:
i’m outside
can we talk?

Amanda stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary before moving across the room and pulling the curtain aside just enough to look. Max was there, standing just outside the building with her hands tucked into her jacket, pacing slightly like she wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but had done it anyway.

Amanda exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. She could ignore it. She should ignore it. But Max had never been good at leaving things alone, and Amanda had never been good at pretending she didn’t care when it came to her.

So she grabbed her keys and went down.

Max straightened when she saw her, like she’d been waiting for that exact moment. They stood a few feet apart, the space between them carrying everything Amanda had been trying to manage all week, everything she had been carefully avoiding finally forced into one place.

“Hi,” Max said, a little breathless.

Amanda didn’t return it. “You can’t just show up here.”

“I know—I know,” Max said quickly, already pushing through it. “I just… you’ve been avoiding me.”

Amanda let out a sharp breath, folding her arms. “What did you expect?”

Max flinched at that, but didn’t step back. “Definitely not this. Not you just… disappearing every time I show up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Amanda shot back, the edge in her voice slipping through before she could stop it. “Would you rather I stuck around and pretended everything was fine?”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“You keep acting like nothing happened, Max,” Amanda cut in, her voice tightening as she spoke. “Like we can just go back to whatever this was before and I’m supposed to just fall into it with you!”

“I’m not saying that,” Max said, her voice rising slightly, not defensive but strained. “I just thought we could talk, maybe try to—figure out where we are now—”

“Now?” Amanda repeated, incredulous. “Now you want to figure it out?!”

Max hesitated, and that hesitation said enough.

Amanda let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to come back when it’s convenient for you and act like we can just pick this up like I wasn’t the one who had to deal with you disappearing on me entirely!”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Max said quickly, like she needed that to be clear.

“Then why did you?” Amanda asked, immediately.

Max opened her mouth and nothing came out.

Amanda held her gaze for a second longer before looking away, jaw tightening. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

There was a beat of silence before Amanda spoke again, her voice lower now, but more controlled, more dangerous for it.

“One week, Max.”

Max blinked. “What?”

“One week,” Amanda repeated, looking back at her. “That’s all it took. One week for you to come back and tear down everything I built after you left.”

“I—”

“I thought I was over you,” Amanda continued, her voice breaking despite the way she was trying to keep it steady. “I was over you! I had it handled. I had my life, I wasn’t waiting for you anymore, I wasn’t checking my phone every time it buzzed, I wasn’t—” She cut herself off with a frustrated breath. “And then you show up and just… slide back into everything like it’s nothing.”

Max didn’t interrupt this time.

Amanda stepped closer without realizing it, her hands tightening at her sides. “You talk to me like you always have, you look at me like nothing’s changed, you take pictures of me like you didn’t just disappear out of my life for a year, and yeah, maybe you don’t mean anything by it—but it still does something to me.”

Her voice dropped, quieter now, but heavier.

“You and your stupid ways of crawling back into my life just undid all of that.”

Max swallowed, her voice softer now. “I’m not trying to mess you up...”

“I know!” Amanda said immediately, frustration cutting through again. “That’s the fucking problem, Caulfield! You’re not trying, and yet no matter what you do, it will affect me that way!”

Max went quiet.

“I didn’t get to ‘try’ you know...” Amanda continued, her voice tightening. “I didn’t get to have conversations with you or explanations or whatever this is now. I got nothing, Max. You just cut me off and I had to deal with that on my own because you were still there for everyone else!”

Max looked down briefly before forcing herself to meet Amanda’s eyes again. “I know… I'm sorry”

“Do you really feel sorry?” Amanda asked, and this time there was no sharpness in it, just something vulnerable and raw. “Because it doesn’t feel like you do.”

Max hesitated, not knowing how to answer that, then said, more carefully this time, "I do feel sorry. I... I couldn’t stop thinking about you until..." She trailed off, picking her next words before adding, “Chloe and I… we’re not together anymore.”

Amanda stilled.

“What?” she said, quieter now.

“We broke up months ago,” Max continued, like she had already rehearsed this but still wasn’t sure how it would land. “It wasn’t fair to her… being with someone who was still thinking about someone else.”

Amanda didn’t say anything.

Max let out a chuckle, her gaze dropping for a second. “She knew why and she… she was very understanding about it. She still is. She’s been helping me through it, actually.”

Amanda’s brows pulled slightly, something shifting in her expression. “Helping you… get back to me?”

Max didn’t flinch this time. “Yeah.”

The honesty of it hit harder than anything else she’d said.

Amanda let out a scoff, shaking her head slightly as she tried to process it. “That doesn’t make this better, Max. That doesn’t suddenly fix what happened between us.”

“I know,” Max said quickly. “I’m not saying it does. I just—I didn’t want you thinking I was still—”

“With her?” Amanda finished.

Max nodded once.

Amanda looked away again, pressing her lips together before speaking. “That just makes it worse in a different way.”

Max frowned slightly. “How?”

“Because now it feels like you’re here trying to fix something you already left broken,” Amanda said. “Like you’re coming back to it because you finally can, not because you didn’t have the chance before.”

Max shook her head immediately. “That’s not why—”

“Then why now?” Amanda asked again.

Max stepped forward slightly, like she was trying to close the distance without pushing too far. “Because I didn’t stop thinking about you,” she said, quieter now, but more certain. “Because I needed to figure out what I could actually do about that instead of just… leaving it unfinished.”

Amanda stared at her.

And something in her chest twisted all over again.

“Can you do me a favor?” Max asked, her voice softer now.

Amanda frowned slightly. “What?”

Max held her gaze, and this time there was no hesitation—just something tired, something already bracing for the outcome.

“Just… tell me it’s over,” Max said, her voice quieter now, like she was trying not to push but couldn’t help it anyway. “Like—really over. So I can stop thinking there’s still a chance for us.”

Amanda froze.

For a second, everything stalled—her breath, her thoughts, and the instinct to respond—leaving her with nothing but the weight of what Max had just asked for. Because that was Max, even now, still hoping, still reaching for something that could hurt her just as easily as it could save her.

Amanda took a step back, grounding herself in the space she had just created, her jaw tightening as she forced herself to hold onto it.

“Don’t put that on me,” she said.

Max blinked, thrown off just enough that it showed.

“I’m not gonna be the one to say that for you,” Amanda continued, quieter now but firm. “If you need to walk away, then walk away. But don’t make me be the one to end it just so it’s easier.”

There was a beat of silence.

Max didn’t argue. She just stood there, taking it.

Amanda stepped back again, putting real distance between them this time, not avoidance, not hesitation—just a choice she was finally holding onto.

“I meant what I said,” she added. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Max held her gaze for a second longer, then nodded once.

“…Okay.”

Amanda didn’t look back as she walked inside.

She could feel it anyway—Max still out there, still standing where she left her, still watching like she was holding onto something that had already slipped through her hands. The pull to turn around came fast and sharp, instinctive in a way that almost made her stop, but Amanda kept moving. She knew exactly what would happen if she looked. She would hesitate, she would soften. And she couldn’t afford that, not now, not after everything she had just said.

The door shut behind her with a dull click that sounded louder than it should have in the quiet.

For a second, she didn’t move, her chest tight as everything she had been holding back started catching up all at once, now that there was nothing left to distract her from it.

She had meant it, every word she said.

Amanda let out a breath and pushed herself away from the door, forcing her feet to move even when her thoughts hadn’t caught up yet. She made her way towards her apartment on autopilot.

By the time she got back into her apartment, it hit her all at once.

The anger didn’t stay, it never really did. It burned fast and sharp enough to carry her through the moment, but it didn’t linger. What replaced it were feelings she left buried.

She missed her.

The realization came without resistance this time, without the usual instinct to push it away or dress it up as something else. It was simple and undeniable.

She missed Max, not the version of her standing outside her building right, not the version that was trying to fix things now, but the one that had been hers.

And that was what made this hurt.

Amanda dragged a hand down her face, exhaling slowly as she leaned back against the door, letting the silence settle around her, pressing in where Max’s presence had just been.

Because she had done the right thing, she knew she had.

But why did it have to hurt?

Max didn’t show up the next day.

Amanda noticed it immediately, even if she didn’t mean to.

The mornings at Snapping Turtle had settled into a pattern over the past week, one she had adjusted to despite herself, and the absence of it stood out more than she expected. There was no camera resting on the counter, no presence lingering just within her line of sight, no soft interruptions in between orders.

Amanda moved through her shift without having to think about where Max might be. She focused on work, on the things that won't emotionally ruin her.

But the space the photographer usually filled didn’t disappear, it lingered, persistent in a way she couldn’t ignore.

Amanda felt it most in the quiet moments, in the seconds between tasks when her eyes drifted towards the counter out of habit before she caught herself and looked away.

She tried not to dwell on it too much.

By the time the afternoon rolled in, Safi showed up.

Amanda caught sight of her the second she walked in, and there was something off about it immediately. Safi slid onto one of the stools without her usual energy, her attention settling on Amanda in a way that felt more serious.

“Hey Amanda," Safi said as she slid onto the stool.

“Hey to you too Safi,” Amanda returned, already reading into her tone before she even said anything else.

There was a brief pause before Safi spoke again, more carefully this time.

“Has Max dropped by?"

Amanda kept her expression neutral, steady. “No.”

Safi studied her for a second, then sighed, her shoulder dropping as her concern settled in. “She’s… not looking great.”

Amanda didn’t respond right away, but she wasn’t surprised by that.

Safi leaned forward a little, resting her arms against the counter. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

Amanda shook her head. “We just talked. We settled things between us.”

That was all she offered, and they both knew no pushing could get her to say anything more.

Safi held her gaze for a moment longer, like she was weighing whether to say something further about it, then nodded. “Okay.” She leaned back slightly, letting it go. “I’m here, though… if you need me.”

Amanda gave a small nod. “I know. Thank you.”

Safi stayed for a bit longer, talking about other things, keeping it light, before eventually heading out again. Amanda watched her go, the quiet settling back in around her as the day moved forward.

She finished her shift without thinking too much about it.

Or at least, she tried.

It was later that evening when her phone rang.

Amanda frowned slightly when she saw the number, recognizing it after a second before answering.

“Hello?”

There was a brief pause on the other end before a familiar voice came through, casual and a little too knowing.

“You know,” Chloe said, “a wise bartender once told me that there are precious few people on this earth worth giving a shit about. If you find one of them, you’re one of the lucky ones… ‘cause none of the other shit matters.”

Amanda blinked, caught off guard, then let out a laugh. “Using my own line against me, Price?”

“Hey, it’s a good line,” Chloe shot back easily. “Figured I’d recycle it.”

Amanda leaned back slightly, already knowing where this was going. “What do you want, Chloe?”

There was a brief pause.

“Look,” Chloe said, a little more serious now. “You and Max have a lot of shit to fix. And yeah, I’m probably biased, but also—she dumped me for you, so honestly? I’ve got some credibility here.”

Amanda stilled slightly.

Chloe let out a small huff. “Take it from me, Princess Leia, Max loves with her whole damn heart. It’s kind of her whole thing. She’s selfless to a fault, and whatever she didn’t say to you? Whatever she kept to herself? I can almost guarantee it wasn’t because she didn’t care.”

Amanda didn’t interrupt.

“She needs someone who understands her,” Chloe continued, her tone quieter now, but no less certain. “I’ve known her since we were kids. Max has always been like that, doing things for other people, even when it screws her over. Loving her…” she paused briefly, like she was choosing her words, “was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Amanda’s grip on her phone tightened slightly.

“And I’m passing that to you,” Chloe said, more lightly now, but still carrying the weight of it. “Because I’ve seen it—you guys? You’ve got something unfinished. Me and Max? We ran our course already. That part’s done.”

She let out a small laugh. “Now I’m just fighting Safi for the best friend title, and honestly? I’m pretty confident I’ll win.”

Amanda huffed out a breath, shaking her head slightly.

“Chloe—”

“I’m not saying this so you’ll take her back in,” Chloe cut in, gentler this time. “I’m saying it because I know her. And I know she wouldn’t have come back like this if it didn’t matter.”

She let that settle before continuing, quieter now but no less certain. “And I know enough that her actions have hurt you. But please know that wasn’t her intention.”

Amanda didn’t answer right away. And Chloe let the silence sit for a moment, like she was giving her space to take it in, before exhaling softly.

“Anyway. That’s my piece. Do whatever you want with it.”

Amanda let out a small breath, her voice softer when she finally spoke. “You always this involved in your ex’s love life?”

“I mean... you're the only one after me,” Chloe replied.

That pulled a laugh out of Amanda.

“Take care, Amanda.”

“You too, Chloe. Thank you.”

The call ended.

For a moment, she just stood there, leaning back against the counter, letting everything catch up to her now that there was nothing left to distract it. Chloe’s words lingered, mixing with her own thoughts, with everything she had been trying to keep neatly contained, and for a second she didn’t push any of it away.

Then something felt wrong.

Her brows pulled slightly, a thought forming at the edge of her mind, vague at first, like something she almost missed—until it clicked.

It was sunday.

Max had said she’d only be here for a week.

Amanda straightened almost immediately, gears running in her mind.

It had been a week.

The realization hit harder than she expected. All those days she had spent avoiding her, adjusting her schedule, and keeping her distance—she had been letting their time run out, trading moments she could have had with Max for space she thought she needed.

And now, if Max hadn’t shown up today, and if she didn’t show up tomorrow then that was it.

That was all she was going to get.

Amanda stared down at her phone, Chloe’s words still echoing in the back of her mind, threading through everything she had been trying to ignore. Her grip tightened slightly around it as the weight of it all finally settled into something she couldn’t push aside.

Because for the first time since she walked away, she couldn’t tell if she had protected herself or if she had just let something important slowly disappear without even realizing it.

Amanda didn’t let herself stay still any longer than that. She was already moving, pushing herself away from the counter.

The bar was still open, a few scattered customers lingering, the low hum of conversation filling the space like it always did—but it felt distant now. Amanda reached for her bag without hesitation, catching Joey’s attention as she moved.

“Hey,” she said quickly. “Can you close for me later?”

Joey blinked at her, thrown off. “Uh… yeah, I can, but—”

“Please,” Amanda added, softer but no less urgent. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He studied her for a brief second, then nodded. “Yeah. Go.”

Amanda was already out the door after that, the cool air hitting her face as she stepped onto the street. Her phone was in her hand almost immediately, fingers moving faster than her thoughts as she pulled up Safi’s contact. She didn’t stop walking—couldn’t—her pace quickening with every step until it turned into something closer to a run by the time the call started ringing.

Safi picked up on the second ring. “Amanda?”

“Is Max still at Hellerton?” Amanda asked, the words coming out rushed, her breath already uneven, slipping between sentences like she didn’t have time to slow down.

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Yeah—well, she’s staying there. Why?”

“Is she there right now?” Amanda pressed, her grip tightening around her phone as she turned a corner too quickly, barely noticing.

“I’m not sure,” Safi admitted, a little more alert now. “She hasn’t really—wait, what’s going on?”

But Amanda was already moving faster, her focus narrowing to a single point.

“Thanks,” she said, already pulling the phone away from her ear.

“Amanda—”

She hung up before Safi could finish and she didn’t slow down.

The streets blurred past her, her thoughts louder than everything else around her, Chloe’s words still echoing, the realization from earlier sitting heavy in her chest. One week. That was all it had taken for her to push Max away, and maybe all the time she had left to fix it.

Or at least try.

By the time she reached Hellerton House, her chest was tight from the run, her breath uneven as she climbed the steps two at a time, barely slowing as she reached the door. The world felt narrowed down to this one moment, the weight of everything she had almost let slip away pressing against her ribs as she raised her hand and knocked.

The first knock came out quick, almost tentative, but the second followed immediately, louder, and by the third she wasn’t holding back anymore, the sound echoing sharply through the quiet. “Max!” she called, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Max—!”

Nothing answered her.

Amanda’s stomach dropped, the silence settling in too quickly, too heavily. She knocked again, harder this time, her palm flattening against the door as if she could force it open through sheer urgency. “Max, please—” The words came out tighter now, edged with something she couldn’t quite keep down.

Still nothing.

For a moment, panic pushed in, sharp and immediate, her thoughts racing ahead of her, filling in every possible reason for the silence, none of them good. She stayed there, listening, her breath uneven, her heart pounding louder than everything else—

Then she heard it.

Footsteps.

They were faint at first, then clearer, closer, and Amanda stilled completely, her breath catching as she focused on that sound alone.

The door opened and there she was.

Max stood in the doorway, her hair slightly disheveled, her eyes red and puffy like she hadn’t slept or like she had cried more than she would ever admit. She blinked at Amanda, like she wasn’t sure if she was actually there, like this didn’t quite make sense in front of her.

“Amanda?” she said, her voice rough. “What are you—”

Amanda didn’t let her finish.

She stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, closing the distance without hesitation, without giving herself the chance to second-guess it. It wasn’t careful—it was immediate, tight, like she needed to anchor herself to something real, like letting go even for a second might undo it.

“I’m sorry,” Amanda said into her shoulder, the words coming out all at once, unfiltered, before she could stop them. “I’m so sorry.”

Max froze at first, her body going still in her arms, like she didn’t know what to do with this, like she hadn’t expected it—not from Amanda, not after everything that had happened between them.

But then, slowly, her arms came up and she held her back.

Max didn’t pull away.

That alone nearly undid Amanda all over again.

She held on a little tighter without meaning to, like loosening her grip even slightly might make this slip through her fingers, like she’d open her eyes and find herself back where she was before—alone, trying to convince herself she was fine. Her thoughts were already moving faster than she could keep up with, words rising before she could shape them properly, before she could decide what to hold back and what to say.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice unsteady now, thinner than she wanted it to be. “I’m so—fuck, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that like I had everything figured out. Like I understood you, or even myself, or what we’re supposed to do with this—”

Her breath caught halfway through, uneven, and she had to stop for a second just to steady it. Her hold tightened briefly before she forced herself to ease it enough to pull back and look at her.

“I don’t,” Amanda admitted, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I did—I thought keeping my distance, setting all those boundaries, telling myself I was fine… I thought that was the right thing.”

A weak laugh slipped out of her. “Turns out I was just… pushing you away before you could do anything about it.”

Max didn’t interrupt.

She just stayed there, still holding her, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and something softer.

Amanda swallowed and pushed through it.

“That’s on me,” she said, more firmly now, grounding herself in it. “That’s me being scared. And yeah, maybe I had reasons to be, but that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t even try.”

Her voice dropped, quieter, heavier.

“And I should’ve.”

She searched Max’s face like she needed her to really hear that, to understand what she was telling her now.

“Because you’re worth that risk,” Amanda said, more certain now, even if everything else still felt shaky. “You always were. I just… didn’t let myself act on it.”

She let out a breath, some of the tension easing out of her as she kept going.

“And yeah, I can feel it,” she added. “There’s still things you didn’t tell me. Things that didn’t make sense back then, things that still don’t. I don’t know what they are, but I know they’re there.”

She didn’t push it further, didn’t demand answers.

“I’m not asking you to explain everything right now,” she said instead, softer now but steady. “I’m just… here. If you want to tell me, I’ll listen. If you don’t—I’ll still be here.”

Her hands loosened slightly against Max, but she didn’t step away.

“I won’t run this time,” Amanda continued, her voice quieter but more certain. “I won’t ask for space, I won’t keep dodging you, I won’t pause whatever we have just to protect myself. I’ll stay… if you let me.”

Max just looked at her. For a moment, she didn’t say anything at all, her expression shifting slowly as she tried to take everything in—the apology, the honesty, the way Amanda was standing in front of her now, so different from before.

“Okay,” Max said finally, her voice softer than it had been all day.

She glanced past Amanda briefly, then back at her, something a little more grounded in her expression now. “We should… probably go inside,” she added, almost awkwardly. “Before we keep doing this out here.”

Amanda nodded, something in her chest easing at that—relief loosening a fear she hadn’t fully admitted to herself, the quiet worry that after everything she’d said the other day, Max might not let her back in.

“Yeah,” she said.

Max stepped back just enough to open the door wider, her hand lingering there for a second like she was leaving the choice entirely up to her.

Amanda didn’t hesitate, she stepped inside.

Max didn’t say anything as they stepped inside, just closed the door quietly behind them and led her in like this wasn’t new, like Amanda had always belonged there.

Amanda felt it the moment she entered the living room, the familiarity settling in all at once. The couch sat exactly where it always had, the same place they’d spent hours talking, laughing, and arguing. It was so simple back then.

And now here they were again, sitting in the same place. Like the past had folded in on itself and dropped them right back into it.

Amanda sat down slowly, her hands resting against her knees as she took it in for a second longer than she meant to. Max stayed standing for a moment, like she didn’t quite know where to start, before eventually sitting beside her—close, but not touching.

“I’m sorry,” Max said after a beat, her voice quieter now, more tired than anything else. “I’m kind of a mess right now.”

Amanda shook her head immediately. “You’re not—”

“There’s a lot,” Max cut in, not harsh, but firm enough to stop her. She let out a small breath, dragging a hand through her hair before continuing. “There’s a lot I need to explain. You were right… about me keeping things from you.”

Amanda didn’t interrupt this time.

Max looked down at her hands. “It ruined me,” she admitted. “Keeping everything from you. It felt wrong every time, and I kept telling myself it was the right thing to do, that it was better for you not to know—but it just… kept building.”

Her voice tightened slightly.

“And at some point, I convinced myself that if I couldn’t be honest with you about it, then we weren’t… right for each other.”

Amanda felt that land.

Max exhaled slowly. “That’s part of why I left,” she said. “Because I thought I was doing the right thing by not dragging you into something I couldn’t even explain properly.”

She chuckled. “Turns out that just made everything worse.”

Amanda tilted her head slightly, her brows pulling together. “Chloe said something like that,” she murmured.

"Chloe talked to you?"

Amanda nodded and Max shook her head before muttering, "so that's why she said she had an important call to make."

Amanda didn’t bother commenting, but Chloe's intervention was the push she needed.

Max sighed. “Yeah. She… she helped me understand it better. It was part of why we broke up too.” She paused, then added more quietly, “She told me it wasn’t fair to either of us if I was still holding onto something I never really moved on from.”

Amanda didn’t look away from her.

Max finally met her gaze. “So I’m gonna try—I want to try,” she said, more certain now. “I’ll tell you everything. Just… not all at once. I need to figure out how to explain it piece by piece.”

Amanda went quiet for a moment, like she was piecing something together.

Then—

“Does this have something to do with the weird shit that happened here before?”

Max froze.

“The storm,” Amanda continued, watching her carefully now. “The fire you and Chloe were so hellbent on stopping. Safi’s… whole shapeshifting thing. And—” she hesitated slightly, like she still wasn’t fully sure how to say it out loud, “something about timelines.”

Max’s eyes widened.

For a second, she just stared at her. “How did you—”

Amanda exhaled, leaning back slightly into the couch. “Safi relapsed once,” she said. “After a fight with her mom. I was there.”

Max didn’t move.

“She… shifted,” Amanda continued, her tone steady but still carrying a trace of disbelief. “She looked like you. Exactly like you.” She let out a small, disbelieving breath. “It freaked me the hell out. I—” she shook her head, almost embarrassed, “I actually hit her. Reflex. She shifted back right after.”

Max blinked, still trying to process.

“And Moses isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is,” Amanda added. “He had whiteboards up in his place. I didn’t see everything, just the words like timelines and pictures of you and Safi. But it was enough to tell me something bigger was going on.”

She looked at Max again, more directly this time.

“I don’t understand it,” Amanda said honestly. “It seems… a lot. And yeah, I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of it. Of what it could mean.”

She reached for Max's hand before adding, “but I’d rather deal with that than lose you.”

Amanda’s gaze softened slightly. “So whatever it is, whatever you’ve been trying to keep from me, I’m here for it. I’ll listen. I’ll figure it out with you.” She shook her head lightly. “I might freak out, I’m not gonna lie… but I’m not walking away from it.”

She let that sit.

“Not from you.”

Max didn’t answer right away. She just looked at Amanda, like something in her was trying to catch up to what she had just been given—something she hadn’t expected, something she hadn’t let herself hope for. The shift was subtle at first, then clearer, her composure slipping just enough for Amanda to see it.

Her eyes glossed over.

Max let out a small, shaky breath, shaking her head slightly like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “God, I—” she huffed out a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh. “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

Amanda’s breath hitched, just slightly.

Max kept going, words starting to tumble now that she’d said it out loud. “I’ve been wanting to since the first night I saw you again, I just didn’t—didn’t know if I should, or if you’d—if it would mess things up even more or—”

Amanda didn’t let her finish, she leaned in and kissed her.

It was immediate, like she had already decided before Max even said the words, like hearing them just pushed her over the edge. There was no hesitation in it, just something certain and long overdue in the way she closed the distance.

Max froze for half a second then kissed her back just as quickly.

Her hand came up instinctively, settling against Amanda’s arm as she leaned into it, like she’d been holding herself back for too long and finally didn’t have to anymore. There was desperation in it, like she was making up for every second she hadn’t let herself do this.

Amanda pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her forehead hovering close to Max’s, their space barely there but no longer closing. For a second, she just stayed like that, her eyes still on Max, her expression softer now, settling in beneath everything that had rushed through her.

“Yes,” she said, a quiet laugh slipping out, warm and a little breathless. “God… you don’t have to be polite about it, Caulfield.”

Max let out a laugh of her own, the tension that had been sitting in her shoulders finally giving way as a genuine smile followed.

“Okay,” she murmured. And this time, when she leaned in again, there was no hesitation.

Max was still leaving, that didn’t change. She managed to push it back. Monday instead of Sunday. One more night. Just few more hours to spend with Amanda.

They didn’t waste it.

They stayed in, spending time the way they used to. Conversation came easier now, less guarded, less careful, like the tension that had been sitting between them all week had finally loosened its grip. They talked about everything and nothing—filled in the gaps where they could.

By the time morning came, Amanda barely registered when she drifted awake, the weight of it hitting her only when she turned slightly and realized that Max was still there, curled into her side, half-asleep, her arm loosely draped over her over the sofa.

Amanda smiled before she could stop herself.

“Morning,” Max mumbled, her voice rough with sleep, barely lifting her head.

“Morning,” Amanda murmured back, her voice softer.

They lingered like that for a moment longer, neither of them rushing to move, until the quiet was broken by a knock at the door.

Max blinked, groaning under her breath as she dragged a hand over her face. “Please tell me that’s not—”

Another knock, more insistent this time.

Amanda huffed out a quiet laugh as Max pushed herself up, still half-asleep as she made her way to the door. “If that’s Safi, I’m blaming you,” Max muttered.

“Yeah? For what?”

“Just because,” Max shot back, already reaching for the handle.

She opened the door and immediately froze. Safi stood there, arms crossed, already grinning like she’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Oh my god,” she said, leaning slightly into the doorway like she needed a better angle. “Finally!”

Moses, standing just behind her, blinked once, then twice as he took in the scene over Safi’s shoulder.

Max groaned, stepping back and letting them in despite herself. “Can we not do this right now—”

“Nope,” Safi said immediately, walking in like she owned the place. “Absolutely not! You disappear for a whole day, show up looking like a kicked puppy, and now you’re—what—domesticated overnight?”

Amanda laughed from the couch, sitting up. “We’re working it out.”

Moses let out a sigh of relief. "That’s… actually really good. Me and Safi were worried."

"Yeah, I didn’t wanna deal a wreck."

The teasing came back almost immediately, and Chloe even called.

Max had her on speaker, barely getting a word in before Chloe launched into it. “So you’re not moping around like a sad and tortured artist anymore?”

Max rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were that bad,” Chloe shot back. “It was painful to watch, and I don't wanna deal with that when you come back here.”

Amanda snorted quietly from beside her.

“Oh my god, is that Amanda?” Chloe said immediately. “Okay, yeah, I’m way less worried now.”

“We talked,” Amanda said.

“Good,” Chloe replied without hesitation. “Because I was about five seconds away from driving back there and fixing it myself.”

“You don’t have to,” Max muttered.

“Relax,” Chloe said. “Looks like I don’t need to.”

Moses, unsurprisingly, took that as his cue. “Well... if we’re doing this,” he said, already halfway into it, “then you probably need context.”

Amanda blinked. “Context for what?”

Safi groaned. “Oh no—”

“The paradox,” Moses said, completely serious.

Chloe chimed in through the phone. “Oh yeah, that one’s fun. Super chill. Definitely not confusing and stressing as fuck at all.”

Amanda looked between them. “I’m sorry—the what?”

“It’s complicated,” Moses admitted. “But I can walk you through it!”

Safi raised a hand immediately. “Can I sit this one out? When I shapeshifted in front of her, I got punched. What about when she finds out the whole truth behind the storm?”

Amanda froze. “…I said I was sorry!”

“You’d do it again,” Safi said. “That’s what scared me.”

Max laughed, and Amanda couldn’t help but laugh with her.

Moses, and Chloe through the video call, both looked confused.

“Why is that funny?” Moses asked.

“No reason,” Max and Amanda said at the same time while Safi was glaring at them.

And then Max left.

This time, it didn’t feel like an ending, not in the way it had before. There was no abrupt silence, no unanswered questions hanging between them, no sense of something being cut off too soon. It was still unfinished, yes, but not abandoned.

They talked.

Every day, in whatever way they could manage. It started with texts then stretched into calls, then video calls that lasted longer than either of them meant them to. Strangely, the distance helped. It gave them room to think, to process, to say things without the pressure of being in the same space, without rushing into something they weren’t ready to fully face.

Moses and Safi filled in the gaps Amanda couldn’t ignore, slowly and carefully.

They didn’t overwhelm her with it, didn’t try to explain everything all at once. Instead, they gave her piece by piece—the Lakeport storm, Safi and Max’s involvement, the things Amanda had only caught glimpses of before but never fully understood. It unfolded bit by bit, enough to make sense without drowning her in it, enough to let her sit with each part before moving on to the next.

It was a lot, more than she wanted to admit some days. But she stayed. She promised to.

Before Max left, she had told her the truth—about the rewind, about what she could do, about why things had been the way they were back then, even if it hadn’t come with all the details yet.

“I’ll explain everything,” Max had said. “Just… when I get back.”

Amanda nodded. That was enough.

Chloe filled in her own parts too. Arcadia Bay, fragments of a past Amanda didn’t fully understand but could piece together enough to see the weight of it. The choices Max had made, the things she had carried, the way she had always tried to protect the people around her, even when it cost her something in return.

It didn’t make everything easier.

There were still moments Amanda caught herself spiraling, her thoughts slipping into places she couldn’t fully control. She wondered if Max would rewind arguments, if something they said could be undone, if what they were building now was as solid as it felt, or if it could shift without her even knowing.

But Chloe shut that down immediately. “You have to trust her,” she said.

Moses and Safi backed it up.

Amanda held onto that and more than anything, she held onto Max.

A month passed.

Max was halfway through her gallery show, moving through conversations that blurred into one another, her attention split between the people in front of her and the quiet drift of her own thoughts. She smiled when she needed to, responded when she was spoken to, but part of her wasn’t really there, not fully.

Then she saw her.

Amanda stood near the back of the room, like she had been there for a while, taking everything in without needing to be seen right away. She wasn’t trying to draw attention to herself, just there to observe.

Max froze.

Everything else fell away. The crowd, the conversations, it all dulled into something distant as her focus narrowed to one point. She didn’t think about it, didn’t hesitate. She just moved, weaving through the people until she was standing right in front of her, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and happiness.

“Amanda?”

Amanda smiled. “I couldn’t help it,” she said, her voice warm, grounded in a way that made everything else settle. “I've always wanted to go to one of your gallery exhibits.”

She let her gaze move around the gallery, taking in the photos, the way people lingered in front of them, the quiet pull each one seemed to carry. There was something thoughtful in the way she looked at them, like she wasn’t just seeing them but reading into them, understanding what Max had been trying to capture, what she had been trying to say in each photo.

“They’re… incredible,” Amanda said, softer now as her eyes returned to Max. “Rhe way you see things… the way you capture a moment like that.” She let out a sigh, her gaze going back to Max. “It’s really, really beautiful, Max.”

Max stilled at that, something in her expression giving way before she could stop it, the words landing deeper than she expected.

“Yeah?” Max asked quietly, almost like she needed to hear it again.

Amanda nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah.”

The moment stretched just enough to feel it—everything they hadn’t said yet, everything that had been building over the past month, sitting quietly between them without either of them rushing to fill it.

“I missed you, Max Caulfield.”

And that was all it took.

Max didn’t say anything. She just reached for her, a hand settling at her waist as she pulled her closer and leaned in, closing the distance with a kiss.