It would be so easy to walk up. Knock. Say something careful. Say something honest. Say‘I’m free now’like that would fix anything.
But I can’t walk to her door with this still all over me.
Ink on my hands. Guilt in my chest. A whole life of choosing the responsible thing and calling it love.
If I knock right now, it won’t be about her.
It’ll be about relief.
About wanting her to take this weight off my ribs because I don’t know how to carry it alone yet.
I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes.
I see The Brew House again.
Sarah’s face when I walked in.
Brian’s polite smile.
Her keys dropping.
Our fingers brushing.
The way my body reacted like it had been starving.
I open my eyes and stare at her door again.
‘Not like this.’
Because if I’m going to step into her life, I’m not doing it as the man who shows up the second he’s legally allowed to.
I’m doing it as the man who can look her in the eyes and give her something solid.
Something she doesn’t have to guess at.
My hands tighten around nothing.
I sit there another minute. Then another.
Finally, I start the truck.
I pull away from the curb without knocking, without calling, without giving in to the part of me that wants to believe one brave moment fixes years of fear.
As I turn the corner, my chest aches in a way that feels almost clean.
Not relief.
Not yet.
But intention.
Soon.
Just not like this.
Chapter Fifteen
The Sterile Silence
