“I feel like I’m being torn in half,” I whisper.
“I know.”
His thumbs brush lightly against my arms, steady and reassuring.
“I’ve been there too.”
I look up at him. And I see it. The same conflict. The same pull. The same impossible situation.
“You’re not wrong for feeling both things,” he continues quietly. “You can want your family and?—”
He stops himself.
My heart aches.
“And you,” I finish for him.
His jaw tightens slightly. But he doesn’t deny it.
“No,” he says.
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it.
“Because I don’t think I can have both.”
The words come out small. Broken. And I hate how true they feel. His hand lifts, brushing the tear away gently.
“You don’t know that yet,” he says.
“I do,” I whisper. The line we already crossed is something we can’t come back from. The way this can only end in one of us losing something. His hand lingers against my face for just a second longer before he drops it, like he’s remembering that line too.
“Let’s find them first,” he says quietly. “One thing at a time.”
I nod slowly.
“Okay.”
We walk to the car, both of us looking down. The roads are quieter today. Not empty—but quieter. The world is still catching its breath after everything it went through. I sit in the passengerseat, my hands resting in my lap. I sit still. Trying not to move… trying not to let myself think too much, because if I do… I might fall apart again.
We’re heading to another shelter. Another list. Another chance. Anothermaybe. I stare straight ahead, watching the road blur past, but I’m not really seeing it.
I’m feeling everything instead. The ache in my chest. The tightness in my throat. The pull that keeps dragging my eyes back to him.
Garrison.
He’s focused on the road, hands steady on the wheel, jaw tight like he’s holding something in. Like he’s trying just as hard as I am not to let it spill over. But it’s already there.
I can’t keep it in anymore.
“I love you.”
The words come out before I can stop them. Before I can second guess them. Before I can tell myself this is the wrong time. My breath catches the second they leave my mouth. The car feels impossibly quiet.
Garrison’s hands tighten slightly on the wheel. He doesn’t look at me right away. For a second, I think— Maybe I shouldn’t have said it.
“I love you too.”
My heart stops.
