I opened my mouth to deflect.She turned to Dante instead.“You’re a good man.Too much man for me.”She smiled softly.“I wasn’t, and I’m not a strong enough woman for a man who lives under the kind of code you do.I knew it then, I know it even more now.”
Dante shifted uncomfortably.“Char?—”
“No,” she stated firmly, holding up a hand.“Let me finish.”She reached for Eli’s hand, squeezing.“But you and my sister?”Her voice warmed.“This fills my heart.I am happy you found someone, Dante.You deserve good.”
She looked back at me, eyes shining.“And you,” she barely got above a whisper, “you deserve a man who will move mountains for you.Who will protect you with everything he has.A man who is strong enough for the fierce woman you are.”
My throat tightened.
“You need a man who doesn’t need you to be the strong one all the time,” she continued.“You’ve been carrying that weight for so long you forgot what it feels like to set it down.”
Silence wrapped around the table.Char’s gaze moved between us.“You two were made for each other.So make it work.However you have to.”Then, softer, but heavier, “If not for me, make it work for Lamonte.”The name landed like a held breath finally released.“Because he would want this for you both.”
Dante didn’t speak.
Neither did I.
But under the table, his hand found mine, fingers threading together with quiet certainty.And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t pull away.I stayed.Because maybe strength didn’t always look like standing alone.Maybe sometimes, it looked like letting someone stand with you.
The call came on a gray Tuesday morning, the kind where the sky pressed low and the city felt heavier than usual.
Dante didn’t say anything at first.His phone buzzed on the counter while I was rinsing a mug, and I watched his shoulders tighten before he even looked at the screen.That told me everything I needed to know before he answered.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.“I hear you.”
I turned away, giving him privacy, but the apartment was small and we’d grown used to sharing air.His voice dropped, the cadence shifting into something older, harder.Club business.I didn’t need names or details.
When he hung up, the silence felt louder than the conversation had.
He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, jaw set.“I’ve gotta go back to North Carolina.”The words settled into me slowly, like cold water soaking through cloth.
“Okay,” I managed, because I was good at that word.Because I knew how to accept reality without flinching.But it still hurt.
I dried my hands and crossed the room, stopping in front of him.Up close, I could see the conflict etched into his face—duty pulling one way, something newer tugging the other.
“How long?”I asked.
“Not sure,” he admitted.“Couple weeks.Maybe more.”
I nodded.“I figured.”
He reached for me then, arms wrapping around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest.I let myself rest there, breathing him in, memorizing the feel of his heartbeat under my cheek.
We lived two different lives.
That truth had been there from the beginning, like a quiet witness in the corner of every room.DC and North Carolina.Structure and chaos.Federal buildings and clubhouses.I knew this moment was coming.
Knowing didn’t make it easier.“I’m gonna miss you,” I admitted softly.
His breath hitched.“Yeah.Me too.”
The last day passed too quickly.We didn’t try to cram meaning into every second.No grand gestures.No dramatic declarations.Just small, intimate moments, coffee on the couch, a shared shower, his hand brushing my back as he passed like it might be the last time for a while.
When it was time, he stood by the door with his jacket on, helmet tucked under his arm.The sight of him like that, ready to leave, already half-gone tightened something in my chest.
He stepped close, cupping my face, forehead resting against mine.“I don’t want this to be undefined,” he stated carefully.“I don’t want to walk away without knowing where we stand.”
I closed my eyes for a beat, choosing my words.“No,” I whisperedgently.
