Then I walk to the door, unlock it, and step out into the night before I can change my mind and beg her to stay.
Behind me, her door closes. The lock turns.
And I stand on her porch in the dark, hands shaking, already planning exactly what I'm going to say when the sun comes up.
Because Alban's right. Space isn't what she needs. She needs someone to fight for her when she's too scared to fight for herself. Someone to stand between her and the life that's killing her and say, ‘No, you're worth more than this.’
I've been patient. Been careful. Been respectful of her fear.
Tomorrow, I stop being patient.
Tomorrow, I make her choose. Me or the cage. Freedom or the familiar. The life she's been living or the one she's too terrified to reach for.
And if she chooses the cage, at least I'll know I fought.
Tomorrow, she chooses.
And I'm going to make damn sure she knows what she's choosing between.
Chapter seven
Sloane
My suitcase sits by the cabin door, packed except for the shirt I'm wearing. His shirt. The one that smells like old leather and sage and the ghost of his skin. Wearing it while preparing to leave feels like a betrayal I can't name.
It’s six a.m. My flight leaves at two. A car service is picking me up at eleven.
Zipping the suitcase should be simple. Metal teeth, straight line, done. Except my hands won't cooperate. The zipper catches on fabric, once, twice, three times, and when I finally force it closed, the laptop bag won't fit in the side pocket where it always fits. Wrong angle. Wrong pressure. My body is staging a rebellion my mind won't acknowledge.
Outside the window, the ranch yard is still dark, with no lights on in Cash's house yet. No movement by the barn, either, only the stars overhead and the weight of choice pressing against my lungs until breathing takes effort.
I step onto the porch. Dawn is breaking pink and gold over the hills, and cool air hits my face hard enough to sting.
"Going somewhere?"
The voice stops everything.
Cash stands at the bottom of the porch steps with two coffee mugs in his hands. He's wearing the same jeans from last night, same dark T-shirt, and his hair is mussed like he's been running his fingers through it for hours. The sky behind him is going from charcoal to pink, and he looks at me like I just drove a knife between his ribs and twisted.
"Cash." The word spills from my lungs like a release. "I was going to leave you a note."
"A note." He sets the mugs down on the bottom step and climbs toward me, each footfall measured. "You were going to leave without saying goodbye."
"I can't stand here and have you tell me all the reasons I should stay when we both know I have to go."
"The only person making you leave is you." He reaches the top step, and suddenly there's no space between us. Just him filling my vision, blocking the sunrise, making the whole world shrink down to the heat coming off his body and the way his teeth grind together. "And you're going to let it finish what it started because you're too scared to choose something different."
The words hit hard. I want to fall into the safety of his arms and never leave them. Instead, my spine goes rigid, shoulders pulling back in automatic defense. "You don't know what you're talking about."
He steps closer, backing me against the cabin door, palms hitting the wood on either side of my head. "Tell me you're going back because you love your job. Because it makes you happy."
"It's the life I built. It's the only thing I'm good at." My voice cracks with the lie.I’m good at thinking about you for seventeen years. I’m good at kissing you,I want to say, but the words stick in my throat.
"Bullshit." His hand cups my jaw, thumb stroking my cheekbone. "You're good at letting go when someone makes youfeel safe. You're good at being soft when you stop punishing yourself for needing rest."
"Stop." The single syllable is barely audible.
"No." He leans in until our foreheads touch, breath warm against my lips, coffee and morning and him. "I'm done being patient. I'm done pretending this is anything less than what it is. So I'm going to ask you one question, and I need you to answer honestly."
