“I saw it. That wasn’t nothing.”
“It’s Marcus being dramatic.” Her laugh is brittle. “Patricia’s handling it.”
“By letting him harass you?” I move closer, and she steps back. “How many messages have you gotten from him today? Ten? Twenty?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been counting.”
“I have. Thirty-seven. Thirty-seven times your phone has buzzed since this morning.” My voice is rising despite my effort to stay calm. “That’s not ‘handling it,’ Ember. That’s clearly harassment.”
“I know what it is!” She snaps. “And I’m dealing with it.”
“How? By jumping every time your phone makes a sound? By not sleeping? By losing weight because you’re too stressed to eat?” I can’t keep the frustration out of my voice. “This isn’t dealing with it. This is suffering through it.”
“What do you want me to do, Ryan?” Tears shine in her eyes now. “Block him and let him think he’s won? Report him and make everything worse? He has lawyers, connections, money?—”
“And you have me.” The words burst out. “You have someone who cares about you, who wants to help, but you won’t let me.”
“Because this isn’t your fight!”
“It is when it’s hurting someone I love!”
The words hang in the air between us.
Her face goes pale. “What?”
Fuck. I didn’t mean to say it like that. Didn’t mean to say it at all, not now, not like this. But it’s out there, and I won’t take it back.
“I love you,” I say again. “And watching you go through this alone is killing me.”
She’s crying now, silent tears streaming down her face. “Ryan, you can’t—we’ve only known each other two weeks?—”
“I don’t care, I know what I feel.” I step closer, and this time she doesn’t back away. “I love you, Ember. And I need you to let me help.”
“I can’t.” Her voice breaks. “I can’t be another woman who needs saving. I need to prove—to myself, to everyone—that I can handle this. I have a plan with Patricia, this is all being logged.” She picks up her phone.
“Even if it destroys you in the process?”
“It won’t.” She swipes at her tears. “Because if I can’t do this, if I can’t stand up to Marcus on my own, then what was the point of any of it? The business, starting over—all of it was supposed to prove I’m strong enough to make it without relying on someone else.”
“Being strong doesn’t mean doing everything alone.”
“For me it does.” Her phone buzzes again, and we both flinch. “I need space, Ryan. Not me handling things my way under your roof. In your bed. I need actual distance.”
The words hit like a physical blow. “Ember, you don’t have to leave?—”
“Yes, I do.” She’s already gathering her things. “The repairs are done at the Inn. I should have moved back days ago. I—” Her voice catches, “I got too comfortable. Started to depend on you. And that’s exactly what I can’t do.”
“So, you’re leaving? Just like that?”
She won’t look at me. “I’ll see you at the fundraiser. Everything’s on track. The event will be perfect.”
“I don’t give a damn about the fundraiser!” My voice echoes in the empty conference room. “I care about you.”
“I know.” Fresh tears spill over. “And that terrifies me. Because every time I start to depend on someone, they either use me or leave me or prove I was right not to trust them in the first place. And I can’t—with you.”
“I would never?—”
“You already are.” She meets my eyes. “You’re trying to rescue me again. And maybe I do need rescuing, but I can’t let you be the one to do it. Because if you save me now, I’ll never know if I could have saved myself.”
