Her words should make it easier. They should give me an out.
But they don’t.
Because the way she says it, the way her voice dips slightly at the end, tells me she doesn’t really believe it’s okay.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, close but not too close. She watches me warily, like she doesn’t know what I’m about to do. Fuck, I don’t know what I’m about to do.
“I told you things tonight I haven’t told anyone,” I say quietly. “Not because I wanted to unload my shit onto you, but because I . . .” I trail off, searching for the right words. “Because you listen. It’s easy to just speak. It feels like you see me. The real me. And I don’t think anyone ever has. But I shouldn’t want it.”
She exhales, the sound uneven, like she wasn’t expecting this—like it caught her off guard. There’s a pause between us. She watches me and then lets out a soft, almost breathless laugh. “That’s not exactly a grand declaration, Hopper.”
I shake my head. “It’s more than you think.”
Her gaze softens. “You’re allowed to want things, you know.”
I exhale sharply. “I don’t know how to want something that doesn’t come with an expiration date.”
She looks at me for a long time. Then, finally, she shifts closer. Just enough that I can feel the warmth of her, even though we’re not touching.
“We’re all temporary,” she murmurs. “You should learn that. Things happen and your life changes. It’s terrifying but all we can do is adapt.”
I close my eyes for half a second. When I open them, she’s still looking at me, and suddenly, it’s not just about what I want.
It’s about her.
What she deserves.
And it’s not this.
It’s definitely not me.
Not me, half in, half out, constantly pulling away.
I reach up, cupping her jaw lightly, my thumb brushing over her cheek. She leans into it, just barely, like she’s testing the weight of the moment.
Like she’s testing me.
I could kiss her.
I could give in to the pull that’s been there since the moment she showed up on my land.
But I don’t.
I drop my hand and stand.
She watches me, something unreadable in her expression. “Hopper.”
I shake my head. “I can’t, Nysa.”
She swallows hard, nodding slowly. “Okay.”
But it’s not.
It’s not okay.
I turn and walk out of the room, shutting the door behind me.
And as I lay awake in my bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I know one thing for certain.
