We step out into the back garden. The sky’s a bruised purple, the air cool against my heated skin. Fairy lights twine along the fence, not yet switched on. The faint rumble of traffic blends with the distant hiss of the sea.
Jacob shoves his hands into his pockets for a second, then seems to remember that’s a defensive posture and pulls them out again. He looks at me, really looks, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
“Did I…” He stops, tries again. “Have I done something to upset you?”
Guilt stabs me right under the breastbone. “What? No.” I force a laugh. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I sent you a message and you sounded… distant.” He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “And that’s fine, you don’t owe me a particular tone, but we said we’d be honest with each other and I keep thinking I must have done something wrong and I don’t know what it is and it’s -” He breaks off, presses his lips together. “It’s driving me mad.”
Oh, Jacob.
He’s standing there like he’s bracing for impact. He looks like he did when he told me he used to mutter Shakespeare to keep himself from exploding.
I did this.I tugged away without explanation because it felt safer forme.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. At all. It’s… a ‘me’ thing.”
He doesn’t fidget. That’s how I know he’s really listening. He goesstillin this intense, focused way, like my words are code he’s trying to debug.
I lean back against the wall, arms folded loosely, trying to find the right line between honesty and not unloading my entire psychological profile on the poor man. “Something came up this morning,” I say. “Work-wise. A possible… thing.Bigthing. And it made me realize that I need to be really careful not to… overstep with you.”
His brows pull together. “Overstep how?”
I blow out a breath. “I like you,” I say, letting the words land between us. “A lot. More than I should, given the time frame.”
Color blooms in his cheeks, then drains. “That’s… bad?”
“It’s…” I scrub a hand over my ponytail. “You know who I am, Jacob. I live out of a suitcase. I don’t do monogamy. I don’t do staying. And you…” I gesture vaguely at him, at the house, at his whole life. “You’re just figuring out how to be comfortable in your own skin. You’re carving out boundaries with your dad. You’re finding your footing with your neurodivergence. The last thing you need is some hurricane of a woman stomping her big monster boots all over your feelings and then fucking off to whichever country offers her the most interesting sex museum.”
His jaw tightens. “You’re not a hurricane.”
I huff out a humourless laugh. “Tell that to the trail of people who’ve caught feelings and then had to watch me pack my bag.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, muttering something that sounds liketornado woman.“And you think I’m… one of those people.”
“I think youcouldbe,” I say softly. “And that scares me. For you. And if I’m being completely honest? For me.”
There it is. The thing I don’t say out loud to anyone, ever.
He inhales, slow and deliberate, like he’s doing one of his breathing exercises. “So your solution was to… pull away. Without telling me why.”
“Yes,” I admit. “Cowardly, I know. I just thought, if I take my foot off the gas a little, let you enjoy your new confidence without me all over it, maybe we don’t…” I trail off, unable to find the end of the sentence.
“Catch feelings?” he supplies, surprisingly dry.
I wince. “Yeah.”
“And is that working?” he asks. “Your foot-off-the-gas approach.”
I look at him. At the neat line of his collarbones, which I’ve kissed more times than I have anyone else’s. At the ink on hiswrist. At the mouth that has done unspeakably delicious things to me.
“No,” I say hoarsely. “It’s not.”
Something loosens in his face. Not triumph; he’s not built that way. More like…relief, that we’re finally naming the thing between us instead of dancing around it.
He steps a little closer, slow and careful, like he’s approaching a skittish animal. “You told me,” he says quietly, “back when we talked about the club, that you don’t do things you aren’t ready to talk about. For your own sake.”
“I did.”
