“On the plane home, I was looking up art galleries,” he continues. “Museums. Internships. I was going to ask you to come with me. That’s what I wanted to tell you last night. That I didn’t want California without you.”
I swallow, hard. “What? You’re being ridiculous. I have school and friends… and…” I was going to tell him, but that’s not true anymore. “Nick Fury, too.”
He takes another small step closer. “I don’t want that job if it means losing you. If you tell me to stay, I’ll stay.”
“Don’t say that.” My voice wavers. “You worked for this. I’d never ask that.”
“I worked for a future that felt like mine. You’re part of that now.” His voice hardens, that subtle dominant side peeking out, toying with me. “So, no, I’m not going anywhere. Not until we figure out what this means. Not until I know you’re mine again.”
Sadly for him, I’m feeling bratty, and I was born to push boundaries. “Was I ever yours?”
He assess me for a second, then carefully unfolds my arms, placing both my palms flat on his chest and waits. The steady thrum of his heart increases, thundering closer to something… closer to me, syncing with my own, I realize.
“You feel that?” he rasps.
I nod and swallow the air filled with him.
“That’s the power you have over me. Even the organ that keeps me alive is fighting to get to you.”
My pulse kicks hard, traitorous. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me to… to…”
“Pretend you don’t feel the same?” he says, eyes holding mine hostage.
“I don’t,” I lie again and hate it, but I’m not giving in easily.
He tilts his head, a knowing smile ghosting across his mouth, just as his hand moves to rest over my heart, thumping exactly the same as his. “Gatinha, baby,” he purrs, and I almost lose it, give into him, but some tiny minuscule part of me still refuses. Not that it fazes him at all, he doesn’t even flinch.
He is the anchor in the middle of my storm surge, and I’m the one who keeps crashing toward him, unable to pull back.
God, I hate him for being so patient, even when I’m being difficult. I hate that every part of me still remembers the weight of his hands, the quiet mornings together, the way he looks when he comes inside me, the way he kisses me… the way I still want him more than I want to breathe.
Our hands still pressed between us, he moves closer, moving mine up to the base of his neck, and his slip around my waist. “I messed up,” he admits. “But I’m not losing this. Not when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Olivia. You can shut the door on me a hundred times. I’ll still belong to you.” His breath grazes my cheek as he leans in. “You can hate me,” he whispers, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I love you.”
I blink fast, crying would be giving him ground I’m not ready to surrender, but my nose tingles all the same. His words are so sure, so certain, I don’t know if I can believe them. “That’s… intense.”
“Love is intense, Liv, and I love youintensely. It’s okay if you aren’t there yet, but I am. You’ve spent the last few months weaving into my life so completely, so effortlessly, that there’s no version of it I want without you in it. I love you in the way you deserve, without hesitation, without conditions, and with every single part of me. I’m sorry I made you doubt that.”
Nobody’s ever said they loved me like that, so completely. He just said it and meant it. No strings attached, no expectation or manipulation.
I want so badly to let those words soak into every bruised part of me that’s filled with doubt, to stop holding my heart hostage by old ghosts. But wanting it and trusting it are two very different things.
My chest tightens around the ache of it. Because this—him—it’s everything I’ve wanted and everything I’m terrified of losing in the same breath. He’s standing there offering me the one thing I’ve never trusted: permanence.
But with him, it’s always felt like more. An invisible thread looped around my wrist, the other end tied to his. My throat burns with everything I want to say but can’t quite manage. It’s not that I don’t feel it, I do, so much, but I don’t know how any of this is going to end with a happily ever after.
“I already hate this place,” I finally murmur, breaking the moment, reaching for some semblance of control. “It smells like paint, and they wouldn’t even let me bring Nick Fury.”
The empty, dull room glares back at us, and a sting echoes in my chest at the room I’d left behind in our apartment.
Then he’s there, placing a finger under my chin, tipping my face to his. “You want to live with me, baby?”
My knees wobble a little. “Only because our cat lives there.”
“I’ll take it,” he laughs.
Then reality slams in again, making my lip wobble.
“But you’re moving, Jay. It’s just—” My voice fractures. “It’s so much to lose, and I think maybe you should just go and I’ll stay here. It’s the only option that makes sense.”
