Kirsten stares at me for a long moment. When she speaks, her voice is softer but still edged with frustration.
“That’s the most backward logic I’ve ever heard.”
“I know.”
“You can’t protect me by pushing me away. You realize that, right? If Jovan wants to find me, he will. Whether I’m in your apartment, this hotel room, or some random city across the country. Being apart from you doesn’t make me safer. It just makes me alone.”
“I know that now.”
“Do you?” She steps closer. “Because it seems like you’re still trying to control everything. Still trying to manage every variable. Still treating me like a problem to be solved instead of a person to be with.”
“That’s not—”
“It is.” She cuts me off. “You made this decision without me, just like our entire marriage. You set up a whole new life for me without asking what I wanted. You decided that the best way to keep me safe was to remove yourself from the equation, and you never once stopped to think that maybe I’d rather face the danger with you than face a safe life without you.”
I don’t have a response to that. She’s right. I hate that she’s right, but she is.
“I was trying to protect you.” It sounds weak even to my own ears.
“I don’t need you to protect me. I need you to trust me.” She jabs a finger at my chest. “I survived being kidnapped. I survived being thrown in the back of a van and dragged to a warehouse and held by men who were probably going to kill me. I survived all of that, and you know what got me throughit? The belief that you would come for me. That no matter what happened, you would find me.”
“I did find you.”
“Yes. You did.” Her voice breaks again. “And then, two weeks later, you tried to send me away like none of it mattered.”
“It mattered. It all mattered.”
“Then why?” She’s crying now, tears streaming down her face. “Why would you do this to me? Why would you make me feel like I was finally home somewhere, and then rip it away?”
I reach for her, but she steps back.
“Don’t.” She wipes her face with the back of her hand. “Don’t touch me right now. I’m too angry.”
“Kirsten—”
“You don’t get to show up here and say all the right things and expect everything to be okay.” She’s pacing now, with her arms wrapped around herself. “You hurt me, Menlow. You made me feel like I was disposable. Like everything we shared was just… temporary. A convenience.”
“That’s not how I see you.”
“Then how do you see me? Because right now, I have no idea. One minute you’re holding my hand in the hospital and reading to me when I can’t sleep, and the next you’re handing me a new life and telling me to pack my bags. Which one is real? Which version of you am I supposed to believe?”
“Both of them.” I step toward her, and this time she doesn’t retreat. “The man who held your hand is the same man who tried to send you away. Both of those things came from the same place.”
“Fear.”
“Yes.” I hold her gaze. “I’ve never been afraid of anything the way I’m afraid of losing you. And I handled it badly. I made the wrong choice. I see that now.”
“Seeing it and fixing it are two different things.”
“I know. But I’m trying.” I reach out again, slowly this time, and cup her face in my hands. She lets me. “I’m trying, Kirsten. I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never… I’ve never felt this way about anyone. And it scares the hell out of me.”
She searches my face for a long moment. “You still haven’t said why you really came here.”
“I came because I couldn’t stand another minute without knowing you were okay. I came because when I walked into that bedroom and saw your things gone, I thought I was going to lose my mind.” I brush a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “I came because you’re not just some obligation or responsibility. You’re everything. And I was too stupid and too scared to tell you that before I ruined it.”
Her lip trembles. “That’s still not enough.”
“I know.”
