We sit on her couch around the coffee table, and I place the food on it. It sits there untouched. She talks through logistics. The program and why it’d be the best move for her. I listen, nodding, asking the right questions, the supportive ones.
“You obviously need to go, check if it’s everything it’s hyped up to be.”
“And when it is?”
“When it is, you take the job. You don’t make yourself smaller.”Not for me or anybody.
There’s an intensity in her eyes, the gold ring expanding until it takes up half her irises, assessing.
“I mean it, I really do.” I fight the impulse to swallow it down and pretend my own fears aren’t waking up. We needed to talk more, so I lead the way. “Just… And what about us?”
She doesn’t have an answer—maybe she’s as afraid as I am.
I press on, my fingers curling into my knee. “There are—” I stop, reset. “If and when… we could do different things.” I draw in a slow breath. “I moved once. I’d do it again and?—”
“Nate, stop.” She holds her fingers tenderly around my wrist. “It’s a rural, small community. They’re not going to build what you’ve dreamed of designing.”
I shake my head. “My dreams are simpler now.”
“But—”
I lift my hand up to cut her off, then gather her hands between both of mine. “I’m serious. But…” I tip my head, conceding there is one. “You’ve seen who I am now.” I lift my eyes to hers. “I’m better than I was. I think I’ve shown you it would be different this time.” It hurts to say it out loud. “I’d show you I can follow through on what I’m promising.” I pause, forcing myself to finish. “These past few months, I’ve loved you, as you once put it, the best way I know how. And if what you’ve seen isn’t what you want—then I won’t impose myself on you again.”
Her eyes shine, but she doesn’t look away. “I can’t ask you to move.”
“You’re not, I’m offering.”
“I don’t even know if I’m taking it,” she says.
I smile at her. “Yes, you do.”
“It’s the farmlands, Nate,” she whispers. “What will you do?”
“I’d figure it out.”
Silence stretches. Not sharp or angry, just loaded.
“I love you, Nate.” Her voice trembles, and she doesn’t need to add anything.
The hollow in my chest I’ve been carrying finally dislodges. However, the break lines aren’t ragged; they’re clean. Without rage or shrapnel—it comes out as a big, giant piece of myself that Robyn will forever own.I gave it my best, and there’s peace to the thought. We’re not fighting—this isn’t a misalignment of how we’relovingeach other. I rewired myself so I could be the best version of myself, someone she could love again. And she does, but my best just isn’t enough. Or maybe just too much. Time to bow out.
“I love you too, Robyn,” I say.
She slides on the couch until she closes the space between us and cups my face, her thumbs warm along my jaw, playing with a thick beard. I lean my forehead into her without thinking, savoring the last crumbs of her touch.
When her gaze meets mine, it seeks permission and forgiveness with equal desperation. She doesn’t need either because now, and maybe forever, I am hers.
“A lifetime with you,” I breathe against her skin, “wouldn’t be enough.”
“Nate—”
“It’s okay.”
It has to be. She may be holding me right now as if she’d never let go, but truth is, she’s already gone.
“When do you leave for the tour?” I say against her lips.
“I’ll call her back tomorrow. Leave next Thursday.”
