It fucking means everything. I keep my face neutral. Does she want it to mean something? Because it means everything to me.
But if I say that, if I tell her it means we’re good, back on solid ground, and that she owns my fucking heart, will she freak out and push me away?
Fuck. I don’t want to brush it off as a one-night thing. We’re so far past that. But what’s the right answer here?
“What do you want it to mean?” My voice is calm, though every muscle in my body is taut.
Cecilia inhales sharply and takes a small step back. I can see her walls going up. She’s retreating again, pulling away.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
What did I say wrong?
"I don’t want to keep doing this," she says, her voice a little stronger now, but there’s an edge to it. "Every time we get close, something happens. We mess it up."
Her words gut me, but I keep my face steady. She’s been through hell, and I don’t want to add to her burden. But god, I want to shake her and tell her I can’t go backwards. That I need her in my life—fully, completely. But what if pushing her sends her running? What if I mess this up before it even begins?
I feel the shift. She’s slipping, distancing herself. Before I can respond, she steps back completely, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield.
“We’re stuck in this loop,” she continues, pacing a few steps toward the sink. “I don’t know how to break it. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to try right now.”
Her words cut deeper than I expected. I can practically feel my chest squeezing tighter. She’s scared, running like she always does when things get complicated.
“So what are you saying?” My voice is tense, frustration leaking through.
“I don’t know.” She turns to face me, her voice shaking. “I don’t know what I’m saying, Gabriel. I just know that … last night …” She holds her arms tighter around herself, like she’strying to build a barrier between us. “I don’t know where we stand and not knowing, it’s messing me all up inside.”
My stomach twists painfully. "I don’t know where we stand, either," I tell her.
What I don’t say is that I know exactly where I want us to be standing. That she’s my girl. The only place she belongs is by my side, but for some goddamn reason, I can’t get the words out.
Because what if she doesn’t want to hear it?
She stares out the window, sunlight casting her in a soft glow. It makes her look almost untouchable. Several seconds pass in silence, and I fight the urge to fill it.
When she finally turns my way, her expression is tired but resolute.
“I need to know what this is,” she says, but her voice wavers. “I don’t know if I’m ready for—”she motions the space between us, ”—whatever this is. But I do know that I need boundaries and labels and just … I need to know, Gabriel. I need to know what you want from me? Where you see this going if it’s going anywhere at all? I just need to know.”
I step forward, closing the distance between us, my hands itching to pull her close. Every instinct screams at me to hold her. "It’s whatever you want it to be," I tell her, my voice soft but firm. "Whatever you’re ready for. That’s what this is. It’s you and me, and yeah, baby, we’re a thing. But we’re moving at your pace. This is all on your timeline, okay? I’m not going to rush you, but I’m here. I’m in this."
Her lip trembles, and for a second, I think she’ll let me in. But then she steps back, crossing her arms again. The warmth between us fades as quickly as it came.
“My life is a mess right now, Gabriel. I can’t tell up from down, and with the trial stuff coming up … I don’t see things settling down anytime soon.”
A wave of frustration builds in my chest, crawling beneath my skin. “I know. But, you’re not in this alone. All you have to do is let me in.”
She stays silent for a beat, the smell of coffee filling the air, her eyes flicking between mine as if trying to decide how much to let me see.
“It’s just really bad timing,” she says, almost pleading.
I nod, jaw clenched, heart sinking. "Right." The word tastes bitter, but I swallow it down.
The coffee machine beeps, breaking the tension. I pour us both a cup, watching as she adds a splash of creamer. She takes a tentative sip, a small smile passing over her lips.
"So, friends?" I ask, raising a brow, trying to keep things light. Even though it fucking kills me to say it. My chest tightens at the thought, but if that’s what she needs, I’ll take it.
Her smile falters, her eyes dimming.
