"And then I met you," I whisper.
Something shifts in his expression. Pain, maybe.
"I'm not him," he says.
"How do I know that?" The words come out sharper than I intended. "You lied to me too, Phoenix. About the dinner, about why I was really here. Everything between us started with a lie."
"I know."
"So how am I supposed to trustyou? How am I supposed to believe anything you say?"
He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes locked on mine. "Because I'm telling you the truth now. All of it. No more secrets, no more manipulation. Ask me anything."
I study his face, looking for the crack in the armor, the tell that will reveal this is just another game. But all I see is raw honesty, the kind that costs something to give.
"Do you regret it?" I ask. “Reading my writing. Watching me for years. Any of it?"
He doesn't hesitate. "No."
The answer should make me angry. Should confirm everything I fear about him.
"I regret not having the courage to reach out sooner," he continues. "I regret the way you found out about the dinner. I regret that I hurt you, that I gave you reasons to doubt me." He pauses. "But Idon'tregret finding you. I don't regret a single moment I spent reading your words, learning who you are. Those years of watching you from a distance are the reason I knew, the second I met you, that you were everything I'd been waiting for."
My throat tightens. "That's honest, at least."
"I'm trying, Jade." His voice drops. "I know I fucked up. I know I went about this all wrong. But I'm trying to be the man you deserve, even if I have no idea how."
The fire pops, sending sparks swirling up the chimney. Outside, the wind moans through the trees. We're suspended in this moment, balanced on the edge of something neither of us can take back.
I don't make a conscious decision to move. My body just rises from the sofa and crosses the space between us. He watches me come, his dark eyes tracking every step, but he doesn't reach for me. He doesn't push or pull or demand.
He lets me come to him.
I stop in front of his chair, looking down at him. He looks up at me, and what I see in his face makes my chest ache. Desire. Need. Fear. Hope. Everything I'm feeling reflected back at me.
"Phoenix," I whisper.
"Yeah?"
"I don't know if I can trust you."
"I know."
"I don't know if this is real or if I'm just making the same mistake all over again."
"I know that too."
"But I can't stop." My voice breaks. "I keep trying to hate you, and I can't. I keep trying to pull away, and I can't. What is wrong with me?"
He reaches up and takes my hand, pressing it flat against his chest. Beneath my palm, his heart beats hard and fast.
"Nothing is wrong with you," he says. "Nothing has ever been wrong with you."
I sink down onto his lap, straddling him, my knees on either side of his hips. His hands come up to rest on my waist, gentle ina way he usually isn't. We're face to face now, breath mingling, foreheads almost touching.
"I'm scared," I admit.
"So am I."
