“I’ve worked so damn hard to move forward, Dylan. I swear. But trauma’s weird. It’s sticky. And sometimes it shows up before I can catch it. Tonight…I messed up. IknowI messed up. And by the time I realized what I was saying, I couldn’t figure out how to fix it without making it worse.”
She let out a shaky breath.
“I wanted to protect us…but I made you feel like I was ashamed. And that’s not true. It’s the opposite, actually. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”
Dylan’s jaw clenched as he stared down at his hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
“You built a wall between us tonight,” he said. “And it was just as solid as the one I count on every Sunday to protect me.”
Ali flinched.
“But, I’m still sitting here,” he added softly.
She looked up.
“I’m still here,” he repeated. “Because I know what trauma can do. I’ve seen it. And I know it doesn’t mean you don’t love me. But, baby…you’vegotto let me stand beside you. Not behind you. Not hidden. Not like a damn secret.”
Ali nodded, tears spilling again. “I want that. I really do. I just…sometimes the fear wins before I even know it’s fighting me.”
Dylan leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees.
“Then we fight it together.”
She let out a tiny, disbelieving laugh through her tears.
Dylan reached for her hand.
“You’re not broken, Ali. You’refighting. And I can work with that. I just need you to stop shutting me out when things get scary. Let me be scared with you.”
Her hand squeezed his. Tight. Desperate.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said.
Then he reached out and gently pulled her into his arms—slow, deliberate, like giving her time to resist.
She didn’t.
She melted into him, breath shuddering, face tucked into his neck. And Dylan closed his eyes.
For a moment, he just held her. Let the silence settle. Let the weight of everything they’d just said start to shift—just a little. But even as her sobs softened, something sharp still sat in his chest. A wound he hadn’t dared touch in years.
“I need to tell you something,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Something I’ve never said out loud. Not even to Daisy.”
Ali didn’t move, but he felt her breath catch against his skin.
“I was traumatized too,” he said. “That night…when they wouldn’t let me in the hospital to see you. When they told me I wasn’t family, that I had to wait. I thought—” His voice cracked. He swallowed hard. “I thought you were already gone. And I hadn’t even said goodbye.”
Her fingers clutched at his back like she could take the words away, but he kept going, voice steadier now.
“For a solid year, I had night terrors. Panic attacks. I’d wake up gasping, thinking I was too late. I got help—campus health started it, and after I got drafted, the Tritons put me in touch with a team psychologist. I worked through it. But, baby…” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. “You did abandon me. Back then. And I get it. I know why now. I know it wasn’t to hurt me. But it broke me anyway.”
Tears welled in her eyes again, brimming, silent.
“And tonight, when you said we weren’t together—when you wouldn’t let yourself say I was yours?” He let out a breath, thick with emotion.
Ali let out a soft sound—a mix between a sob and a gasp. Her hands cradled his face now, trembling.
