“You want me to apologize?”
“I want to know why you did it.”
He looks at the water for a moment, jaw tightening. “Because I didn’t like seeing you up there. Because I wanted to kill every man that laid eyes on you.”
“You didn’t like the bidding.”
“I didn’t like imagining someone else winning.”
“It was dinner, Levi.”
“It wasn’t just dinner.” His voice lowers slightly. “It was them thinking they had a shot.”
I hold his gaze. “And that bothered you?”
“More than I like to admit.”
“Why?”
He exhales slowly. “Because you never felt like something I could lose.”
The honesty steals my breath. “Then why did you?”
He closes his eyes briefly. “I was scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of not being enough.”
The vulnerability cracks something inside me.
“You were always enough,” I say quietly.
His gaze lifts slowly. “Then why did you leave?”
“Because I wanted to know who I was without you.”
“And?”
“And I found out I still wanted you.”
The silence hangs between us, heavy and charged before the distance between us disappears when he reaches out and pulls me closer. His hand settles at my waist, warm under the water.
“You could’ve come back sooner,” he says softly.
“You could’ve come get me.”
The truth stings both of us. The water ripples as I shift closer, until my knees brush his. The contact feels different tonight. Not reckless. Not fueled by jealousy or stage lights.
“I don’t want to do this halfway,” I say.
“I don’t either.”
“You don’t get to let me go again.”
His hand tightens slightly. “I won’t.”
“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
