Because we both need answers before we do this.
We both need the truth—not just me.
And I really want to know we’re standing on the same fucking ground before I risk my heart again.
“Tell. Me. No.”
But if she doesn’t—if she gives me even a second of hesitation—I know I’m not going to stop.
The moment is ripe with indecision.
I hold my breath.
Then, her hands come up, resting on my wrists.
Not pushing.
Not stopping me.
Her breath catches.
And then, she parts her plump lips.
“Please, Benji,” she whispers.
And just like that—everything I’ve been holding back?
Everything I’ve been trying to control?
Gone.
Because I already knew where this was heading the second I saw her again.
I knew I wasn’t strong enough to stop it.
Not with her.
Not when it’s always been her.
And maybe that makes me a fool.
Maybe it makes me reckless.
But right now?
I don’t give a single shit.
Because if I’m wrong? If she’s lying? If this all blows up in my face again?
At least this time?
I’m the one who made the decision.
And until then?
She’s mine to hold. Mine to protect.
Mine.
