Her laugh.
Her mouth. Soft lips I’ve tasted more times than I should’ve, and still want like the first time.
The hiccup when she’s nervous. The way her fingers fidget when she’s overthinking. The way she tilts her head when she’s studying me like I’m something she hasn’t solved yet.
All of it.
Mine.
Even if she doesn’t know how long her essence will stay with me once she’s gone.
Even if part of me can see her never leaving at all.
Even if I don’t have the right to claim it out loud.
Even if I’m the one who keeps her at a distance—out of fear, out of pride, out of a warped instinct to protect what I’m already losing. None of it changes the truth pounding in my chest.
She captures me.
And the second I realized it was Elliot standing there, looking at her like she was something to be won, everything else dropped away.
I don’t even remember crossing the room. One moment I was across the way in the record store, staring at vinyls and pretending I could think my way out of this entanglement. The next, my fist was connecting with his jaw, instinct taking over before logic ever had a chance.
All I could think wasget the fuck away from her.
The silence stretches between us like a held breath. Heavy. Loaded, pressing against my ears.
“Are you okay?” she asks quietly.
Of course I’m not.
I stare straight ahead, hands tight on the wheel, jaw set, doing what I do best—holding it together.
Her hand settles on my thigh. “Bear,” she says again, quieter now. “This isn’t me trying to fill space because I’m nervous.”
She’s right. No hiccup.
“I need to know you’re okay,” she continues. “And if you’re not, I can hold it for you. I can be strong right now. Burden me.”
I don’t talk about Vanessa.
I don’t talk about Elliot.
I don’t talk about how I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders, or how I use my company to fill the gaps in the environment I know I’ll never be able to close. How the idea of losing this pitch makes me feel like I’m letting everyone down.
Those are the burdens I told myself I buried years ago. Burdens I don’t trust anyone else to hold.
Obviously, I didn’t get rid of them. I didn’t bury them deep enough. I just avoid them both like injuries that never healed clean, because I know exactly why they still get under my skin.
I thought I had it all. I thought I was building what my father said men were supposed to have—businesses with integrity, relationships that matter, and a family that looked up to you. And they… Elliot… blew it all up.
My focus fractures, the road blurring at the edges as my mind drifts somewhere it shouldn’t go. Somewhere I swore I wouldn’t revisit.
“Eli!”
Her voice cuts through it—sharp, panicked—and I jerk back into the moment just in time to correct the wheel. My heart slams against my ribs as I pull over, ice crunching under the tires.
I cut the engine and get out without a word.
