He stops too, stepping next to me, waiting for more.
When I don’t answer right away, he lifts a brow. “If you really wanted me to experience New York, you’d have taken me to Times Square or Central Park. Rockefeller Center, maybe.”
I laugh softly. “Sounds like you’ve watchedHome Aloneone too many times.”
That earns me a quiet smile. Not his usual guarded smirk, but something softer. Real. It unsettles me more than I’d ever admit.
He looks at me again, the wind catching in his hair. “Out of all the places you could’ve shown me, why this one—the one that’s clearly closest to your heart?”
I swallow, eyes dropping to the ocean below. The waves move slow and easy.
“Because—” I stop, my voice catching on the word. “Because this place is a piece of me. I’ve been here in some of the happiest and some of the saddest moments of my adult life.” I take a smallbreath, glancing up at him. “I guess I just wanted to share it with you.”
The wind tugs at my hair. Somewhere nearby, a kid laughs, birds cry overhead, and the world keeps moving, but in this moment, it feels as if we’re the only ones standing still.
Rogue steps closer—close enough I feel the heat radiating off him, steady and grounding. His hand lifts, catching a strand of my hair the wind’s been trying to steal. He tucks it gently behind my ear, fingers brushing my skin.
Then, before I can even think, he leans down. The movement is slow, certain. His lips find my forehead in a touch so soft it almost undoes me.
“Feels like you’ve just shown me a piece of your heart,” he murmurs, the words are warm against my skin, and for a second, everything else disappears.
We walk in the sand in easy silence, the sea stretching wide and wild beside us. The wind tangles my hair, whips through my coat, carries the distant laughter of children and the shrill cry of gulls. The ocean is relentless today—waves crashing and curling against the shore. Rogue is close enough that our sleeves brush now and then but never quite touch.
For a long while, neither of us speak. Then he says, “Ever since I was a lad, I trained myself to keep to myself.”
His voice is rougher than usual, low and deliberate. I glance up, but his gaze stays fixed on the horizon, shoulders tight beneath his hoodie.
“To be quiet,” he goes on. “Not to share too much. I taught myself not to show my da when I was upset or happy. Never knew how he’d react. My mum was the only one I ever opened upto. We had this… shared understanding. She knew what it was like.”
He pauses, the wind tugging at his sleeves, carrying his words away. “I only ever let myself feel happy around her. She’s been gone a while now, and it’s been easier—safer—to stay that way. Closed off.”
I stop walking. My breath catches. He keeps speaking, voice quieter, as if he’s not sure he should be saying any of this out loud. Then, finally, he turns toward me.
“But then you came around, lass, and somehow, you’ve turned my whole world upside down.”
The world tilts. The sound of the waves fades until all I hear is the thud of my pulse.
He takes a slow step closer. “I find myself lookin’ forward to seein’ you. I look for you during practice, during matches. Christ, I get distracted just tryin’ to spot you on the sidelines. Never had that happen before.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he lifts a hand—gentle, careful.
“Allow me, please, lass. I’ve never done this before, and I’d like to do it right.”
I nod, unable to tear my eyes away. His expression softens, the sharpness of him easing into something raw and unguarded.
“I wish I was better at this. Talkin’ about how I feel, but I’ve not been one to share much of anything, ever. Still, I don’t want to scare you, and I don’t want to make things awkward for you at work, but I need you to know—” He swallows, his voice dipping low, eyes still on mine. “Since the moment I saw you, kitten, you’re all I’ve thought about. I’ve tried to keep me distance, but you brought me here, you opened up to me, and I feel it’s only fair I open up to you.”
He pauses, gaze steady, voice low but certain.
“I want to know you, Cat. Properly. Not just the version I see at work, or through a lens. I want to spend time with you, learnwhat makes you laugh, what makes you cross. I want to know what you like, what you don’t. The real you, outside all of this.” He takes a half step closer. “If you’ll have me.”
I just stare at him. The words don’t sound real. This man, this impossibly guarded, beautiful man, is standing on a beach, heart in his hands, and he’s offering it to me. The sand shifts beneath my feet, and I steady myself, trying to remember how to breathe. His words hang between us—raw and impossible and real. I press my hand lightly to my chest, trying to help my heart remember how to beat.
His eyes search mine, quiet and steady. “Say somethin’, kitten,” he murmurs.
I open my mouth, close it, try again. “Rogue, I—” I drag in a breath. “This, whatever it is, scares me.”
He nods once. “Aye. It scares me too.”
