Her breath catches. “So that’s why I’ve never?—”
“You’ve never seen it,” I cut in gently, “because you…you steady me. Fixating on you gives my mind something stronger to cling to. They stopped once I had you. Today was just—” I shake my head, the word catching. “It broke through.”
She goes quiet, her gaze slipping away. I can feel the sadness coiling in her, the way her body tenses against mine. I can’t stand it. I press a kiss to her temple, tighten my arm around her waist, tucking her closer until she softens again.
Her voice is almost inaudible when she finally speaks. “I hate that I caused one to come back.”
I tilt her chin up with two fingers until she looks at me. “Olivia. Don’t do that,” I say firmly. “It isn’t your fault. I don’t want you carrying it like it’s something you could have prevented.”
She presses her palm flat over my heart. “I’m with you, Nathaniel,” she whispers. “You don’t have to face any of this alone anymore... Okay? Whatever you’re carrying, I want to shoulder it with you.”
I nod. “Okay.”
Then her expression shifts. For a while she says nothing, and I know she’s gathering resolve. I don’t rush her. I just hold her, letting her breathe, giving her space to find the words.
“But… I still meant what I said yesterday,” she murmurs finally, “when I came back here. About needing you to be honest. About you not going behind my back or taking choices away from me.”
I bow my head in assent, my answer hushed but certain. “I know. And I’ll hold to it. If the only way to keep you is by asking instead of acting, then I’ll ask. Whatever it takes.”
In my chest, something twists painfully—gratitude, reverence, disbelief. Not so long ago, I was sure my own ruin had finally caught up to me and I had lost her for good. That she is even here, willing to offer terms instead of turning away, is a mercy I don’t deserve. There’s no condition I wouldn’t agree to, no boundary I wouldn’t promise, if it means she stays.
Her gaze lingers on me, searching. “And what about you? What do you need from me?”
The question steals the air from my lungs. I look away, heart pounding. “I don’t want to push too much. Not now.”
The truth is, I’m afraid. Afraid of asking, afraid of tipping her back into retreat. I only just got her back—I can’t risk driving her off again.
“Please, my love.” Her hand lifts, thumb grazing my jaw. “There’s clearly something on your mind. Tell me.Trust me.”
I draw in a ragged breath, fighting the urge to stay silent. At last, the words tear free. “When it gets hard, you pull away. It’s the one thing I can’t bear. You shut me out, or you take yourself away before I even understand what’s wrong. It makes me afraid to put things on the table, because I don’t know if the price will be you leaving.”
I exhale, pressing my forehead to hers, the admission raw. “That’s why I act before you can decide for me. I tell myself that the things I do are for your own good—that I’m just taking care of you,lovingyou—but if I strip it down, it’s also fear. Fear that if I asked, you’d say no. Fear that if I waited, you’d run. So I make the choice for you. Forus.”
Her hand stills on my chest. “Nate…”
“I know it isn’t fair,” I confess. “I know it costs you something every time. But in the moment, I can’t stomach the risk of losing you. That’s the truth of it.”
Silence settles between us again. It feels like my chest might split from waiting, but I force myself to be patient, to do as she asked of me—to trust her—even as every instinct claws for reassurance.
At long last, she lifts her gaze to meet mine. Her expression is a little stricken but tender. “I know I do that. It’s not because I want to…” She shifts slightly, fingers tightening in the fabric of my shirt as if bracing herself. “It’s just—the only way I’ve ever known to cope. To retreat until I feel safe again.”
Relief breaks through me like light through water. I cradle her face in my palm, stroking gently along her jaw. “I don’t wantyou to cope alone. I need to know you’ll stay, especially when it gets hard. And that you’ll let me stay in it with you.”
Her eyes soften. She presses closer, fingertips grazing along my collarbone. “I can try,” she whispers. “I want to try.”
Relief swells in my chest, sharp and almost dizzying.
I can’t resist her then. I never can. The pull toward her is constant and inexorable. I lean in, the space between us narrowing, her breath warm against my mouth. But just before our lips meet, a vibration thrums from the nightstand, rattling against the wood.
My phone.
We both still, foreheads pressed together, our breaths caught between us. I glance sideways, and she follows.
The screen glows with a single word:Mother.I already know what Olivia’s going to say before the words leave her mouth.
“You should answer it.”
I huff, exasperated. “I’m only doing this for you.”
