“I don’t want to mess this up,” I said quietly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
He took a small step closer. Not crowding me. Just there.
“You’re not,” he said.
The surety in his voice almost broke me.
I looked up at him then, really looked at him. The man who had just achieved his lifelong dream, who still smelled faintly of chlorine, whose eyes were searching mine like the answer mattered more than the medals or the headlines or the future everyone else wanted from him.
And I realized something else.
If I didn’t say it now, I never would.
“Yes,” I said finally. “It was true.”
The words landed heavy between us.
“All of it,” I added quickly, before I could lose my nerve. My pulse raced, but I forced myself to keep going. “And if I’m being completely honest …” I swallowed. “I don’t want temporary with you.”
His breath hitched—just barely, but I heard it.
“I don’t want careful or fake or convenient,” I continued, my voice shaking now. “I want something real. And that scares me more than anything else I’ve said today.” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Because wanting you like this means I could lose you. And I don’tknow if you’re in a place where you want to try—or if you even should.”
Silence stretched again, taut and fragile.
“But I know this,” I said. “I don’t want to walk away just because that was the plan. And I don’t want to keep pretending this is just a story we’re selling.”
Ledger exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath for a long time.
“I don’t either,” he said quietly.
“You don’t what?” I asked, my chest tight, needing him to be specific. Needing the certainty.
“I don’t know what happens next,” he admitted. “I don’t have a plan. And that usually terrifies me.” His gaze softened. “But I know I don’t want to keep faking this either,” he said. “I want to see what happens when we stop pretending. When we let ourselves try—without the excuses.”
Relief hit me so hard, my knees almost buckled.
Standing there in the aftermath of his biggest victory, I realized something else, too.
That maybe wanting more didn’t mean losing everything.
Sometimes, it meant finally choosing it.
CHAPTER 24
LEDGER
Ishould’ve been floating.
I’d just made Worlds. The thing I’d been chasing since I was a kid with chlorine-burned eyes and a stopwatch permanently burned into my brain. The thing that had defined my entire adult life.
But the moment that kept replaying in my head wasn’t the touch on the wall or the roar of the crowd.
It was Roxie’s voice in this hallway.
He’s not an accessory. He’s not a headline or a paycheck.
I hadn’t meant to overhear her. I’d stepped out of the locker room still half dazed, towel around my neck, phone in my hand—and then I’d heard my name. Her tone. Sharp. Protective. Real.
