I swallow the lump in my throat. “What if Iwantto stay?”
“That’s the problem,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I don’t know if I can trust that. If it’s real, or if it’s just… guilt. Duty. Some caveman instinct kicking in because it’s your baby, too.”
“You really think that’s all true?”
She doesn’t answer, so I reach out slowly. My hand finds hers and rests gently over it.
“You keep listing all the ways this could affect me,” I say. “But I’m not the one I’m worried about.”
Her eyes trail over my hand, watching the way my thumb strokes her knuckles.
“You’reCarina fucking Park. Rockstar orthopedic surgeon. You have patients and surgeries, and you save lives. So I want to knowyourreasons, Carina. I want to know what this means foryou. Not me.”
The tears well fast, brimming over before she can stop them, flooding her eyes and streaking her cheeks. She covers her mouth, trying to hold in her sob.
And I fuckinghatethat.
“Hey,” I whisper, leaning in to thumb a tear gently from her cheek. “Baby. You don’t have to hold all that in.”
It’s a small, sharp breath. A tremor in her shoulders. And then she shifts, sliding sideways until her body folds into mine with a bone-deep weariness that guts me more than anything she could’ve said.
I catch her like I’ve been waiting to, one arm looping around her back as the other cradles the back of her head. She tucks into my chest, her forehead pressed to my collarbone as her body shakes and her tears fall.
And fuck, I don’t know how to hold something this sacred without breaking myself, but I do it anyway.
“I found him,” she raggedly breathes. “My dad. When I was twelve. I came home early, and he was on the floor. A heart attack. And I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t save him.”
“Christ,” I whisper, arm tightening around her.
“I kept thinking…” She gasps in a breath, the words tearing out of her. “If I’d known more about CPR, if I’d got home earlier… if I was better, stronger, smarter—”
“No,” I say fiercely, burying my hand in her hair. “No, Carina. You were just a kid.”
“I vowed to never feel that helpless… thatuselessagain.” Her voice cracks wide open. “So I learned how to control situations. I fixed everything I could. I became the one who always had the answers.”
She draws a shuddering breath.
“But this? It’s not a quick fix, Reid. I can’t control it, and I don’tknowwhat I want. I love my job, and I love what I do. But the scariest part is, maybe I want this too. And I don’t know how to make that possible.”
She breaks again, sobs tearing out of her as I hold her tighter.
“I don’t want to lose myself,” she cries, “and I don’t want to lose this either.”
“You don’t have to lose anything,” I murmur, pressing my mouth to her temple. “You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”
Tears wet the front of my shirt, and her fingers curl into the fabric. Every part of her shakes with silent, wild sobs. It’s not pretty, but it’s everything.
Every tear she’s swallowed, every scream she’s silenced. Every ache of exhaustion and fear she’s buried so deep she forgot how to feel it.
It all comes out in my arms, and I have the privilege to hold her through it. To hold her like she’s mine. Rocking her, telling her she’s safe. That she doesn’t have to decide anything tonight. That I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair.
I count her breaths as they come apart, then I keep counting as they stitch themselves back together. Eventually, the shaking eases, and the hitch in her throat evens out as her fingers go slack against my chest.
“Will you stay?”
The whispered words are so quiet, I almost miss them, but my heart certainly doesn’t because it fucking cracks. She could’ve asked me anything right now. Anything, and I would’ve given it.
