“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He had to leave the city. There’s some… personal stuff happening. And I can’t be there for him and I don’t know what’s going on and—” I stopped, aware I was saying too much.
Petrov was quiet for a moment.
“You called him?” he asked.
“No. I don’t want to intrude.”
“That is stupid,” he said, flat and matter-of-fact. “If he matter to you, you call. He can decide to pick up or not.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Always complicated.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “But you are not useful to anyone—him or the team—if you walk around like zombie. Talk to him. Or at least sleep.”
He walked away to grab more weights, leaving me standing there with my phone burning a hole in my pocket.
I shouldn’t even have it on me. Thomas would lose his mind if he saw it—phones weren’t allowed on the floor, no exceptions. But what if Théo needed me?
Petrov’s words rattled around in my head.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe I should just call.
???
I didn’t call. And neither did he. I wrote and deleted numerous text messages before ending the night refreshing X and Reddit and every ugly corner of the internet. I fell asleep with the iPad on my pillow.
When I woke, I was disoriented. The room was dark, the iPad screen long since gone black. A slightly chilled body was pulling toward me, sliding under the covers.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Théo?” I blinked, still half asleep, my brain struggling to catch up. “You’re back. You’re here.”
“I just got in an hour ago. Took the Blue Line straight from O’Hare.” His voice was small in the darkness. “I couldn’t go back to Avery’s. He’d want to talk about it and I can’t—I’m not ready to—” He stopped, took a shaky breath. “Is it okay that I’m here?”
“Yes, baby, of course.” I pulled him closer, wrapping my arms around him. His skin was cold from the chill settling over the city, his body trembling slightly against mine. “Are you okay?”
“Not really,” he admitted.
The honesty of it startled me. This was Théo—guarded, deflecting, prickly Théo who would rather make a joke than admit he was hurting. Who would rather run than let someone see him vulnerable.
But he’d come here. To me. In the middle of the night.
“I had to face Nico after everything that went down between us,” he continued, his voice muffled against my chest. “He’s in bad shape. Really bad. And I know it’s not entirely my fault but I can’t help but feel partially responsible. Like maybe if I’d handled things differently or stayed in touch or—”
“Hey.” I pressed my lips to his hair. “You can’t carry that.”
“I know. Logically, I know.” He pulled back just enough to look at me and even in the dim light I could see the redness around his eyes, the exhaustion etched into his features. “But seeing him in that hospital bed, looking like a ghost of the person he used to be… all I could think about was every time I wasn’t there. Every time I chose myself over him. Every time I ran away instead of staying to fight.”
“You had to leave Toronto,” I said gently. “You told me yourself—staying would have destroyed you.”
“It would have.” He swallowed hard. “But maybe I destroyed him instead.”
“That’s not how it works.” I cupped his face in my hands, tilting it so he had to look at me. “You’re not responsible for someone else’s choices. Even someone you love. You can care about someone deeply and still not be the thing that fixes them.” I brushed my thumb across his cheek. “And choosing yourself isn’t the same as abandoning someone. You were drowning too. You had to get out.”
His eyes filled with tears. He blinked them back, jaw tight, fighting it.
“You don’t have to hold it together,” I said softly. “Not with me.”
