If I said too much, it became real. If I said nothing, it would keep eating at me.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I started, voice low. “It’s supposed to be simple. We have rules. Boundaries. This thing has an expiration date.”
Talon didn’t interrupt. Neither did Ridge. That somehow made it worse.
I swallowed. “But lately it doesn’t feel like pretending anymore. And that scares me.”
The words hung there, heavier than I’d meant them to be. I shook my head once, like I could physically shake off the thought, then exhaled hard.
“I almost kissed her,” I admitted, looking away because I wasn’t ready to see their expressions yet.
The truth was, I hadn’t almost kissed her because it was late or because we’d been out having fun or because the night felt exhilarating.
I’d almost kissed her because Iwantedto.
And that was the part I didn’t know how to outrun.
Silence followed my admission. The silence was so long and loud, I finally turned to look at them.
Ridge’s eyebrows were about to hit his hairline, and Talon’s expression was one of understanding, which just annoyed me.
“Almost?” Talon asked carefully.
“Yeah.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “It just … happened. Or, almost happened.”
Ridge let out a low whistle. “Dang.”
“That’s … not part of the plan,” Talon said.
I gave him a glare. “Yeah, I know that.”
Another long silence filled the space.
Finally, I let out a long sigh, my shoulders dropping. “I think I like her,” I said quietly. “For real.”
I’d said it. The truth I’d been circling for weeks without letting myself touch it.
Ridge leaned against one of the blocks. “And like you said, that scares you.”
I nodded, staring down at my hands. They were still damp from the pool, fingers trembling just slightly. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, not like that. Not so plainly. But once the words were out, something in me burst open.
“Because it’s fake,” I continued, my voice rougher now. “Because it’s supposed to be temporary. Because the last time I thought someone loved me, she walked away the second she decided I wasn’t enough.”
Talon crouched in front of me. “Ledger?—”
But I didn’t stop him because I didn’t want comfort.I didn’t even want advice. I just needed the truth out of my chest before it suffocated me.
I hadn’t planned on saying any of this. It wasn’t some rehearsed confession I’d been carrying around. It was just there. Pressing against my ribs until it spilled out, dragging everything else with it. And the worst part was realizing how long it had been building. How deep it already ran.
“Amelia said swimming wasn’t a career.” The old ache flared sharp and familiar. “Said potential didn’t pay bills. That she needed more.” I swallowed hard. “I’ve been running from debt my whole life, man. Still am—even now, when things are finally starting to look up.”
I dragged a hand through my hair, a bitter laugh escaping. “And Roxie—” I shook my head. “She comes from money. From security. From a world where the floor doesn’t fall out if you miss one paycheck.”
A sharp pain stabbed through my chest.
“What happens,” I asked quietly, “when she realizes I’m not enough either?”
The words sounded exposed. Too honest. I hated how small they made me feel, but at the same time, there was a strange relief in finally saying them out loud, like naming the fear took a little of its power away.
