“Tonight was different,” I murmur against his chest, because one of us needs to say it out loud. “Not like the gym. Not like New York. Tonight was...”
I trail off, not sure how to finish the sentence. How do you describe the feeling of someone reaching inside your chest and holding your heart in their hands?
“I know.” His voice rumbles beneath my ear, and his fingers tighten around mine. “I felt it too.”
I roll onto my side so I can see him properly, propping my head on my hand. His profile is sharp in the dim light.
“I’m scared,” I tell him, because if we’re being honest tonight then I might as well be completely honest. The admission feels like peeling off a layer of armor, exposing something soft and vulnerable underneath. “I don’t get scared very often, it’s not really something I do, but right now I’m terrified. Because I don’t know what this means or what happens next or how I’m supposed to go back to my regular life after this.”
He turns his head on the pillow to look at me, and I think all of his armor might be gone too.
“I know.” His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand, slow and steady, grounding me. “I’m scared too.”
I study his face, searching for something, though I’m not sure what. His eyes hold mine, steady and unwavering, and I see it there, the same fear I’m feeling reflected back at me. The same desperate hope.
“What do you want?” His voice is quieter now, more vulnerable than I’ve ever heard it. “Not what makes sense, not what’s practical or logical, just... what do you actually want?”
The question sits between us, heavy with possibility.
“I want this,” I say, and the words feel like stepping off a cliff, like free-falling into something I can’t see the bottom of. “Whatever this is. I want to keep feeling the way I feel right now, like I can finally breathe. I want more nights like this one. Being with you.”
“But?” he asks, because of course there’s a but. There’s always a but.
“But I live in New York. My career is there, my friends, everything I’ve built for the last fifteen years. My apartment that I love, in a building I fought to get into, in a city that feels likehome in a way no place else ever has. I can’t just walk away from all of that.”
“I understand that, Brooke,” he says quietly. “I’d never ask you to give that up. You’ve worked so hard for it, and I know what that career means to you.”
“I know you wouldn’t ask.” My eyes are stinging now, threatening to spill over, and I blink hard, trying to hold back the tears. “That’s what makes this so fucking hard. You wouldn’t ask, and I wouldn’t want you to, but it doesn’t change the fact that my life is three thousand miles away from yours.”
I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to continue.
“And you have your own life in Dark River. The gym, your family, your whole world is there. The legacy your father built, the community you’ve become part of, the life you’ve made for yourself.” I trail off, not wanting to bring up the past, not wanting to remind us both of the years we lost. “I wouldn’t ask you to leave that either. I would never ask you to give up everything you’ve built.”
We’re quiet for a long moment, the weight of reality settling over us. Outside the window, the sky is getting lighter, pink and gold bleeding into the darkness, and I know our time is running out. I can feel the seconds slipping away, each one bringing us closer to the moment when I have to get on a plane and fly away from him.
I turn the thought over in my mind, trying to find a solution that doesn’t exist.
“Maybe you could open that gym in New York,” I say, even as the words leave my mouth knowing it’s not the answer. “The one you mentioned once.”
He shakes his head slowly. “That’s a someday thing. Years from now, when I’m ready to step back from coaching.” His jaw tightens. “A gym in Manhattan? The real estate alone would be millions. Renovations on top of that. I’ve got money, but not thatkind of money. Not yet. And not with Roman’s career just taking off, not with everything I’ve built in Dark River.” He pauses, his thumb still moving against my skin. “I can’t just walk away from all of that. Not now.”
“I know.” I swallow hard. “I wouldn’t want you to.”
“What about you?” He turns his head to look at me. “Could you come home more? Visit between assignments?”
“I’ve thought about that.” I stare at the ceiling, at the shifting patterns of light. “But my job keeps me moving constantly. I’m gone more than I’m home as it is. Half the time I don’t even know what city I’ll be in next week, let alone next month. You’d be waiting around for me, and I’d never be there.”
“So we’d get scraps,” he says quietly. “Stolen weekends when our schedules line up. Phone calls across time zones.”
“Texts that can’t capture what we really want to say.” I finish the thought for him, my voice thick.
The truth of it settles between us, heavy and undeniable. Both of us rooted to our homes, our jobs, on opposite sides of the country. What feels like a world away.
I look at him, at this man who has turned my entire world upside down in the span of a few months, and the words rise up before I can stop them. They’ve been building in my chest all night, pressing against my ribs, demanding to be let out. “Dom, I’m in love with you,” I whisper, and my voice cracks on the confession. It feels like ripping open my chest and handing him my heart. It feels like the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. “I’m completely, stupidly, impossibly in love with you.”
His eyes soften, and something in his face breaks open. He reaches over to caress my cheek, a finger catching the tear that escapes down my temple. His touch is so gentle, so tender, that it makes me cry harder.
“I’m completely in love with you, Brooke,” he says, and his voice is thick with emotion. “I think I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen years old.”
