Shaking my head at them, I loosened the stiff grip I had around the business card Avery had given me. Glancing down at it, the phone number wavered as I tilted the card slightly to catch the light again, the gold foiling flashing once more.
Terran was worth it.
I could try to convince myself otherwise, try to cling to the illusion that pushing him away was the right thing to do for both of us. That by stepping back, by letting him go and setting him free, I was somehow saving us both from the inevitable pain of trying to make something work when the odds were stacked against us.
It was a nice lie. One I could tell myself over and over again during those lonely nights when I reached toward the other side of the bed and found it cold and empty.
Deep down, I knew better. I always had. I was only deluding myself into believing that anything could scare me away permanently. I could shove him out of my life and pretend that I was doing us both a service. Saving us both the time and energy of trying to struggle through whatever this thing between us had become.
And maybe, for a while, it would even work. Maybe Terran would get the message and stop trying to contact me. I’d avoid anything remotely connected to the 199th precinct, make a point to stay far away from him and convince myself that it was for the best. Life would return to some semblance of normalcy—or at least, I’d convince myself it had.
But normalcy was a funny thing.
It didn’t erase the cracks. It didn’t fill the empty spaces left behind. And I knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that the absence of him would settle into my life like a hollow ache. A quiet hum in the background that I could convince myself to ignore most days.
Until one day, on a cold and cruel winter evening, as I stood at the window of my too-empty house, watching the snow drift down to coat the earth, it would hit me.
I’d think about the way Terran’s laugh used to echo in the quiet corners of my home, the way his touch had felt like a lifeline that grounded me in a way I’d never known I needed. I’d remember the way his eyes softened when he looked at me, and his quiet murmurings in the faint hours of the morning when he thought I was still asleep.
The silence would be absolutely deafening.
In that moment, I’d realize how much I’d truly lost. How much I’d given up in the name of self-preservation and control.I’d realize that pushing him away hadn’t saved either of us—it had only condemned me to a life of quiet regret, a life where I was safe but not the same and never would be.
Letting out a slow breath, I leaned back in my chair and pocketed the card. “All right.”
Marlow’s eyes widened. “Wait. Are you actually?—?”
Avery socked him in the arm again. “We’re not going to question it because we’re happy for you. Right?”
He groaned through his teeth. “Yes...very.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice quiet. “Both of you.”
“We’ll only accept your thanks in the form of you bringing him around for the holidays.”
Assuming he actually accepts any of this...
“Fine.”
Avery smiled. “Perfect. Now, go get him.”
CHAPTER 23
Silas
Avery and Marlow’swords weighed heavy on me as I slid into the driver’s seat of my car and headed back home.
An endless loop of support and unshakable faith in me not to fuck any of this up, regardless of my track record for doing quite the opposite. All of this was easier said than done. Confronting Terran about what I wanted for our future felt monumental. Daunting, in a way I hadn’t expected, far more than the simple task I’d set out to accomplish when I left the house this morning.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter as I merged onto the main road leading home.
I’d be coming back with a heart heavy with hope.
That was what scared me most, though, wasn’t it?
A belief that had burrowed its way down deep into my core, unlocked things inside me I’d long since thought dead. Whisperingmaybe’sandwhat if’s that all of this could work out in the end. That confessing to Terran and completely upending whatever tentative situation we were in was the right move.
That I wouldn’t come to regret any of it, even if it ended badly.
