“But I’m also not disappearing into your life like it’s easier than dealing with mine,” I continue. “I need both.”
His gaze sharpens slightly.
“Then we figure out how to make that work.”
The simplicity of it catches me off guard.
“You make that sound easy.”
“It’s not,” he says. “But it’s possible.”
I search his face for a second, looking for doubt, for hesitation, for anything that tells me he’s saying what I want to hear instead of what he actually believes. I don’t find it. And that might be the most dangerous thing of all because it makes me want to believe him.
I step closer without fully deciding to. He doesn’t move. But the space between us shifts anyway, narrowing in a way that feels inevitable now.
“I almost lost you tonight,” I say softly.
His jaw tightens slightly.
“But you didn’t.”
“That’s not the point.”
His gaze meets mine fully.
“What is?”
I swallow.
“The point is… I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t think about the inn. Or my plans. Or any of the reasons I shouldn’t be here,” I continue. “I just—”
My voice falters for half a second. This is the part that matters. The part I can’t take back once I say it.
“I chose you.”
The words hit softer than I expected, but they don’t feel fragile. They feel… certain.
His expression shifts, just slightly, but it’s enough. Enough to see something break through the control he’s been holding on to since the fire.
“I keep trying to tell myself it’s just timing,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “Or circumstance. Or everything happening too fast to make sense of it.”
I shake my head.
“But it’s not.”
The truth settles deeper with every word.
“It’s you.”
Silence falls between us again.
“I’m in this because of you,” I say, holding his gaze now, not looking away. “And I don’t think I know how to step back from that anymore.”
For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. His hand comes up, slower this time, more deliberate than it’s ever been before, like he’s making a choice just as much as I am.
“You don’t have to,” he says quietly.
My breath catches slightly. His thumb brushes lightly along my jaw, grounding, steady, careful in a way that feels like the opposite of everything we just came out of.
