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Again.
chapter twenty-eight
Connelly made himself scarce over the next few nights. He was still there when she needed him, still slept beside her in bed every night, but he avoided touching her, and the distance between them grew wider each day. The silence grew more deafening. He claimed he was distracted by his book, consumed with wrapping up the plot threads and polishing the manuscript for his agent, but she had to wonder if that was the truth or just another excuse to evade the minefield that lay between them.
She knew he was embarrassed and hurt. She knew she’d reacted wrong to his confession of love. It had taken her off-guard, and her initial reaction—as always—had been panic. She had spent most of her adult life erecting barriers around herself, walls so thick and high they seemed impossible for even the most determined to scale. And yet, somehow, Connelly had burrowed under them. He’d found the weak spots, those tiny cracks where a bit of her soul peeked out, and he’d gently but persistently worked his way inside her heart. And she’d let him. Because it was Connelly. Because he’d always been there for her, even when she hadn’t particularly wanted him to be.
She loved him. She knew that deep down. But saying it out loud, admitting these feelings to another person, was another matter altogether. She had hidden behind her trauma for so long, had used the assault as a shield against vulnerability, and she didn’t know how to let her guard down anymore. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Connelly— she couldn’t think of anyone else she trusted more. But her fears and insecurities had become an integral part of her identity. What remained of her if she let them fall away? And would he still love that version of her?
By Friday afternoon, she couldn’t stand the tension between them any longer.
She needed to talk to him. If not for the sake of their dying relationship, then for her own sanity.
He’d taken over the kitchen table as his makeshift office, papers strewn across the top. A cup of forgotten coffee, now cold, sat precariously close to the edge. He was absorbed in his computer, typing with an intensity that made her hesitate.
Maybe she should try again later…
No. She steeled her resolve. They needed to talk this out now before she lost him completely.
She cleared her throat, causing him to jump and spin around in his chair.
“Jesus, Vee.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s... fine.” He quickly gathered the papers and stuffed them into his laptop bag as if he didn’t want her to see them. Then he closed his computer, but not before she saw a crime scene report.
“What’s that?”
“Research.” He shoved the computer into his bag with the papers.
He was lying. She could always tell, but she let it go for now.
“Okay.” She hesitated. Drew a fortifying breath. It was now or never. “Can we talk?”
He exhaled and rubbed his temples as if he’d been expecting this. “I don’t know what else there is to say. You know how I feel. You don’t reciprocate, and that’s fine. That’s my problem, not yours.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I was overwhelmed. Having sex with you... that was a huge step, one I didn’t know I could ever take with anyone again, and then to have you—” She broke off as the words caught in her throat. “I know it’s selfish, but I can’t... I’m not ready to deal with this… thing between us.”
His eyes flashed in a rare show of temper. “It’s more than a thing, Vee.”
“I know!” The words came out louder than she intended, but it felt cathartic, like the release of air from a too-full balloon about to pop. “I know it’s more. I know because I feel it, too. But that’s how I need to think of it for now. Just a... thing. Because—surprise, surprise—I’m scared, Connelly.”
As fast as the temper appeared, it vanished. “Of me?” His voice was soft, hesitant.
“Not of you.” She reached out to touch his arm but pulled back at the last moment. “Of what this means for us. Of how much I stand to lose if we mess it up. I’m terrified because you’re not just an abstract someone I’m scared to let in.” She swallowed hard. “You’re you. You’re my rock. My... everything.”
He stared at her for a moment, his gaze intense and probing. “So what if we don’t mess it up?”
She opened her mouth but found she had no response. She exhaled slowly and tried again. “If we do, we can’t just go back to being friends like nothing happened.”
“No, we can’t,” he agreed softly. He stood up, leaving his bag and its contents forgotten on the chair. He moved toward her slowly, not in any rush to break the thick tension. When he finally stood before her, his presence filled the room, blocking out everything else.
“But we can’t stay like this either.” His eyes held a mix of emotions: frustration, anger, sadness, and beneath it all, a burning desire that mirrored her own. “I’m scared too. Don’t think for a second that I’m not. This isn’t easy for me either. Risking our friendship, potentially losing you...” He reached out to touch her cheek, and she didn’t pull away this time. His fingertips were warm against her skin, and she leaned into his touch. “But I also can’t ignore these feelings anymore. We’ve been dancing around each other for too long. So it’s a risk I’m willing to take because the alternative is so much worse. The thought of never having you, never knowing what we could be... that scares me more than anything else.”
Silence fell between them, but this time, it felt different. It wasn’t the tense and uncomfortable silence they’d been nursing for the past week— this was a silence of anticipation, a pause in a conversation neither of them quite knew how to finish.
She stared at the man before her. Her best friend, her confidant. He was the only person who had seen every bit of her— the good, the bad, and the ugly— and still chose to stand by her side.
