“Kathleen, wait,” he said, catching up to me. His voice was pleading, desperate. “You don’t understand. I don’t work with individual cases. I run the company, so I have no idea who has what debt within it. I thought paying off your debt would help.”
“Help?” I spun around. “That company—your company—has made my life miserable for years. It destroyed everything my parents worked for and left me with nothing but heartache. And I’m not the only one. There are so many others out there just like me. Even if my debt is gone, what about them? How can I even think about being with someone who’s part of that?”
The man I had fallen for had been a part of it all along. And I had fallen for him, so it didn’t matter how much I tried to pretend I was still safe. I was so far from safe. I was already torn to pieces.
His face fell, but then his jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with frustration. “It’s not all bad. My company isn’t some heartless machine. Or, at least it wasn’t at first. I started it right after graduating from Brown. I wanted to help people. If something like it had been around when my mom and I were struggling, we might not have lost our house.”
I crossed my arms, still skeptical. “What exactly was it supposed to do?”
He took a deep breath. “It was designed to give people in debt options. I wanted it to be different, offering features like personalized payment plans, budgeting tools, and even financial counseling. The goal was to work with people, not just to hunt them down. I wanted to give people a second chance, a way out.”
“So what changed?”
Topher’s smile faded, guilt creeping into his expression. “It grew fast. Faster than I’d ever planned. Once investors came in, there was pressure to maximize profit, and before I knew it, we had entire teams dedicated solely to collections.” He hesitated, his voice softer, as if he were seeing the impact for the first time. “I tried to balance what I originally wanted with what the business had become, but I kept choosing to expand, to push for more growth. I could’ve scaled back or restructured, but I convinced myself I could do both. That I could help people and still keep the company thriving.”
He looked up, eyes clouded with regret. “Somewhere along the way, I forgot that there were real people behind those loans. It all became numbers on a page.”
Tears started falling from my eyes, and I didn’t even wipe them away. “You’re tied to all the memories I’ve been trying to run from. My parents hid how deep in debt they were, and then they died and left me with it. And now you’re just another person who’s been lying to me—whether you meant to or not.”
He stepped closer, his voice softening. “I never wanted to lie to you. I was trying to fix it.”
I shook my head, backing away from him. “But you can’t. How can I be with you when you’re tied to all these memories now? Memories I can’t escape.”
Topher reached out, gently placing his hand on my arm. His touch was soft, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid I might slip away completely. “But what we have… You can’t just walk away from that.”
My heart ached, torn between the pull I felt toward him and the fears that kept me grounded. “I agreed to stay until your mom got better,” I said, forcing each word out, the pain pressing against my chest. “It’s been almost four weeks, and she’s better now. It’s time for me to leave.”
I couldn’t look at him, but I could feel the weight of his gaze. His voice was low, filled with concern. “Where are you going to stay? You could stay at my place in the Garden District. Or… I could rent you a place, maybe even buy you something small if that’s what you need.”
My cheeks burned, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration rising in me. “No,” I snapped. “That’s not what I need. I thought you didn’t believe in charity. But here I am, your charity case. I’m glad you finally found the giving impulse, but I don’t want to be your project.”
He shook his head, pain flashing across his face. “This isn’t charity. It’s… It’s what you do when you care about someone.”
My heart twisted, tangled up in the anger and hurt, but also in a hard truth I couldn’t ignore. I looked at him, steeling myself. “It can’t work, Topher. We’re too different.” I spoke quietly, shaking my head. “This… whatever this was, it would never work.”
“How can you say that?”
I swallowed hard, pushing down the pull I felt toward him. “We started with lies, Topher. And now that I know who you really are—what you do, how you earn your money—I see the truth.”
His voice was softer now. “You can’t tell me that what we have is just nothing. That the moments we’ve shared, the way we challenge each other, the way wefit—that none of that matters.”
“You don’t understand,” I said, voice barely a whisper. “I can’t live wondering if I’ll be the next thing you don’t have time for.”
“Iamhere,” he said, his voice fierce. “And if I’ve fallen short, I’ll fight every day to prove to you that you can count on me.” He searched my face, frustration and longing in his gaze. “If this is about the mistakes I’ve made, then let me fix them. But don’t shut me out just because it’s easier to push me away than let yourself be vulnerable.”
A lump formed in my throat as I admitted my fear. It held me back, and I couldn’t ignore that. The crushing disappointment of him not showing up when he’d promised, the shock of finding out he owned the very loan that had haunted me for years—each of these felt like proof that every time I let someone in, I ended up more hurt than before.
“I’ve spent years picking up the pieces of other people’s decisions,” I said. “I can’t do it again. I can’t be with someone who might break me.”
Topher’s hand tightened around mine, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m not walking away, Kathleen. Not unless you look me in the eye and tell me you feelnothing.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the ache, the longing, the fear.Of courseit wasn’t nothing. But that didn’t change the reality I couldn’t ignore.
“Topher…” My voice was barely audible.
He stepped closer, his voice a plea. “Don’t leave because you’re afraid. Let me show you that we can make this work.”
His words wrapped around me, tugging at the walls I’d so carefully built. I wanted to believe him, to let myself lean on someone else, to trust that this time it would be different. But I was too afraid.
