"Gabriel," she said. "I—"
"Don't." My voice was sharper than I'd intended. "Don't say anything. Not yet."
I closed the door behind me. Leaned against it. Looked at her—this woman I'd loved from the first moment I saw her, this woman who had let me touch her, kiss her, hold her in the dark.
This woman who had gone to my brother the moment my father was gone.
"Tell me," I said. "Tell me it's not true."
She opened her mouth. Closed it. The silence was answer enough.
"Gabriel, I'm so sorry—"
"Sorry." I laughed. It was an ugly sound, nothing like my usual laugh. "You're sorry. That's what you have to say to me?"
"What else can I say? What else would make this better?"
"Nothing." I pushed off from the door and walked toward her. She flinched, and that hurt more than anything—the way she flinched, like she expected me to hit her. "Nothing you say will ever make this better."
"Gabriel—"
"My father." I stopped in front of her, looking down at her face. "My brother. Is there anyone left? Anyone you haven't been with?"
"It's not like that. It's not—"
"Then what is it like?" I crouched down, bringing myself to her eye level. "Explain it to me. Explain how you could let mekiss you, touch you, tell you things I've never told anyone—and then go to him. To Nathan. My brother."
"Because he was there. Because you weren't. Because I'm broken, Gabriel. I'm broken and I don't know how to fix myself and every time someone touches me, I think maybe this time it will make me whole."
"That's not love. That's desperation."
"I know." A tear slid down her cheek. "I know it's not love. I know I'm using you. All of you. I know I'm a terrible person."
"Then why do I still want you?"
The words came out before I could stop them. I stared at her, my heart pounding, my chest aching with the weight of everything I felt.
"Because I'm the one who's desperate," I said. "Not you. Me. I've been desperate since the first night I saw you through the diner window. Desperate to be near you. Desperate to be seen by you. Desperate to be the one you choose."
"I didn't plan any of this."
"That's the problem." I reached out and touched her face. She leaned into my palm, her eyes closing, her breath hitching. "You don't plan. You just... happen. And we all fall into you."
"Gabriel..."
"I love you, Monika. I've loved you since the first moment you poured me coffee and asked about my classes. I've loved you through every conversation, every touch, every moment we've shared. And I will never stop loving you. Even if you choose someone else. Even if you choose no one. I will never stop."
She opened her eyes. They were wet, full of tears and something else—something I couldn't name.
"Say something," I said. "Please. Say anything."
She kissed me.
It was not a gentle kiss. It was not a tender kiss. It was a desperate kiss, full of all the things she couldn't say. I kissed herback with the same desperation, my hands in her hair, her body pressed against mine.
We cried. I don't know who started first—her, me, both of us. The tears mingled on our cheeks, salt and sorrow and something that might have been hope.
"I can't promise I'll be better," she said. "I can't promise I won't hurt you again. I'm a mess, Gabriel. I'm so broken."
