“You don’t need to prove anything,” Callaway says.
“I’m not trying to prove anything.”But my voice wavers.Just a fraction.I hate how easy it is to fall apart in front of them.
They both give me worried looks.
“I know you think you’re helping.”My voice lifts and breaks, not loud but loud enough.“You think if you buy a safer house, hire a team, control every detail, you can protect me.”
Callaway’s mouth tightens.Monty doesn’t move, but something inside him does—like a fault line shifting.
“But I’m not crystal,” I say, throat pulling tight.“I’m not something you pack away because you’re afraid I’ll break.”
Monty flinches.Not visibly.But I see it.
“I love you,” I say, eyes bouncing between them, trying not to drown in how exposed I feel.“Both of you.And I’m here.I’m choosing this.Choosing us.”
Callaway takes a step forward like he wants to wrap me in his arms and never let go.
“No,” I stop him.I lift my hand from the water, droplets falling like punctuation.“You don’t get to interrupt me when I’m finally saying the shit I never say.”
His eyes drop to my fingers, tracking the way they glisten.His jaw flexes again, but he nods.
“And you,” I say, locking eyes with Monty.“Don’t stand there like you’re the only one who’s ever been scared to lose something that matters.We’re all fucking scared.”
Monty doesn’t answer.
“I’ll agree to security.But I’m not a dependent.I want a voice.If I can’t contribute to the mortgage, fine.But I’ll pay expenses.I want to build this lifewithyou.Not be tucked away in it.”
Callaway’s gaze softens, but Monty’s mouth is a firm line.
“We’re trying to take care of you,” Monty says.
“I know.But I’m not a porcelain doll.”I laugh without humor.“I’m already cracked.But you don’t fix people by smothering them.”
Silence.
Then I shift, swimming to the edge of the pool and bracing myself against the side.
“There’s more.”
Callaway’s breath catches.Monty doesn’t move.
“If you’re jealous,” I say slowly, “say jealous.If you’re scared, say scared.Don’t punish me with silence because you don’t want to fight in front of the girl as if you were in the middle of an ice rink.”
They look at each other.
Callaway smirks.“We are literally hockey players.”
I roll my eyes but continue.“And stop talking through me.You’re not teenagers using their friend as a go-between.You speak.To each other.”
Monty’s brow twitches.Callaway actually salutes me.
“And if we’re doing this,” I say, quieter now.“Then we don’t pretend.We don’t lie.We don’t turn things into secrets because we’re scared of what happens if we say them out loud.”
Callaway’s voice drops.“Okay.”
Monty’s answer is delayed.Barely a whisper.“Okay.”
There’s a pause.
