My heart pounds against her palms. “You don’t understand what that kind of loss does to a man.”
“Then show me.”
Her eyes hold mine without flinching. I grip her wrists gently, not pushing her away.
“You have a whole life ahead of you,” I say roughly. “You think you want a widowed firefighter with grief carved into his bones?”
“I don’t want perfect,” she says. “I want real.”
“You want easy.”
She huffs softly. “You’re the least easy man I’ve ever met.”
A reluctant breath of something almost like laughter escapes me.
“You have no idea how hard I’ve tried not to want you,” I admit.
She leans in closer, her forehead almost brushing mine.
“Say it,” she whispers.
“Say what?”
“That you don’t want me.”
Silence. I don’t look away. “I can’t.”
The air thickens. Her fingers curl into my shirt.
“Then why are we pretending?” she asks.
“Because once I say it out loud,” I murmur, “I can’t take it back.”
Her breath warms my jaw.
“Good.”
I exhale slowly.
“You brought light back to my ashes,” I say quietly.
The words feel like stepping off a cliff. Her eyes widen.
“I didn’t even realize how dark it was in here until you walked in,” I continue. “You and your stupid cookie recipes and your laugh and the way you braid Lacee’s hair like it matters.” My voice roughens. “I was existing,” I say. “And you made it feel like living again.”
Tessa’s hand slides up to my cheek.
“You’re not dishonoring her,” she whispers. “You’re honoring the life you still have.”
My throat tightens.
“That scares the hell out of me.”
“Why?”
“Because if I lose this,” I say, my hand sliding to her waist, “I don’t know if I survive it twice.”
Her fingers trace the line of my jaw.
