I watch her retreat, my chest aching like a fresh bruise. This is what I’ve reduced her to: a woman so terrified of abandonment she’s already running before I’ve left.
The producer drones on through headsets—weather, producer complaints about no footage last night. I tune it out. All I see is Lyla’s shallow breathing, rigid shoulders, and careful distance.
She’s going to choose Damon.
The realization should destroy me. But underneath the pain, clarity surfaces.
She doesn’t trust I’ll stay. She doesn’t need promises or words. She needs proof. And the only proof that matters is action.
If I fight her choice, I prove I don’t respect her judgment. But if I leave, would that only prove her point? Just watching her with another man, even so much as the thought of it, is unbearable. Leaving for that reason would only prove her fears right.
Maybe the only way to break the cycle is to stay. To respect her choice and hope she comes back on her own. To be present every day, even when it’s torture, until she realizes I’m not going anywhere.
Fuck.
Keeping my distance was already torture enough. But now that I’ve had her under me—touched her, smelled her skin, heard her laugh—I can’t fathom letting someone else, Damon, touch what’s mine.
Losing her once was torture. Losing her again, and probably for good if that happens, is worse than any agony.
Five minutes pass. Ten. Silence stretches like an open wound.
“You’re going to choose him,” I say. That’s not me demanding. It’s just fact.
Her shoulders tense, but she doesn’t turn. “I don’t know.”
“You will.” I keep my voice level despite the clawing in my chest. “Because he’s never left you. And I have.”
“Scott—”
“I’m not asking you to change your mind.” The words burn. “But I need you to hear this. You’re going to choose him. Anything to make you feel safe.”
She finally looks at me— Eyes wide, a tear spills.
“But I’m staying,” I say. “If you choose him. If he kisses you on camera. Even if you’re in his bed. I’m still going to be here.”
“Why would you?—”
“You need to know if you can trust me to not abandon you.” I hold her gaze. “So here it is. Push me away. Test me. Do what you have to in order to get the answers you need.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Maybe I have.
“You’re terrified the past will repeat.” I lean closer to her. Her eyes are filled with trepidation. “This is me saying it won’t.”
The skids touch down. She unbuckles fast and climbs out without waiting.
I watch her disappear into the swarm of women—hugs, questions, laughter.
And I know with devastating certainty what I’ve just set in motion.
Lyla
Every time I close my eyes, I see Scott’s face. The raw pain when he spoke about his father’s threats, the crack in his voice when he said leaving me was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Vincent Bennett threatened to destroy my family if Scott didn’t end us.
The truth has looped in my head since I woke up on his chest this morning. It changes everything. He didn’t leave because he got bored with me or thought the grass would be greener on the other side. He left to protect me.
