The silence that follows is thick, broken only by the steady stream of water. I turn it off, dry my hands, then frame her face with my palms.
“That’s who I was,” I say. “It’s not who I am now.”
Luna nods, her expression thoughtful, her hands coming up to rest on my wrists. “I get that. I’m not the same woman I was with Hollis, either. I barely recognize her or how I let myself shrink into the version he expected of me. His cheating was a blessing. It woke me the fuck up,” she says, her voice grounded in hard-won clarity. “I’ve spent the last year learning how to take up space again. How to love and respect myself. How to never settle for a man who’s less than I deserve.”
“Yeah. You did that,” I say with admiration. It glows all around her—in her confidence, in the conviction behind every move, in the way she holds herself like she doesn’t just know her worth now… she owns it.
“You deserve a man who uplifts you. Who puts you first. Who knows you can stand on your own, but is there so you don’t always have to.” I hold her gaze, emotion arcing between us. “I want to be that man for you, Luna. I’m not perfect. I’m stillworking through my shit. But I promise, you won’t be second to anything. You’ll be at the center. Just give me the chance to prove it.”
“You have nothing to prove.” Her hands cover mine. “I love how you show up for me. I love what we’re building. But you said some things about the way you were that scare me a little. I need to understand how you got from there to become the man you are now.”
“Let’s go for a walk,” I say, resolved to tell her everything and hope she can see me as the man who’s worthy of her.
We step out into the late morning sky. Clear blue, no clouds, with a warm, strong breeze skipping off the lake. It tugs at Luna’s curls. She tightens the band around her bun, then interlaces her fingers through mine as we walk along the shoreline, our steps falling in tandem, sinking into the damp sand.
“I’m grappling with the words,” I say, filling the silence.
“It’s not a speech, DK.” She squeezes my fingers. “I’m not looking for something tidy or practiced. I want what’s real.”
I nod, gathering my bearings. “I told you work was my priority,” I start, my eyes fixed on the horizon where the water meets the sky. “But it wasn’t just long hours. It was endless.”
She stops walking. I can feel her gaze on the side of my face, but I keep moving, gently pulling her along. If I stop, I might not finish.
“I got high on the friction, the chaos—strategizing, moving the pieces like a game of chess that I was playing alone, competing with my own self. I thought I was in control. I thought nothing could ever touch me. They called me Iron Man. My bosses didn’t know how I got it all done… and didn’t care, as long as I delivered.
“I wore that like a badge. Existing on coffee, Red Bull, and caffeine pills, just to function. It messed up my sleep. I was often too wired, so I’d crash with sleeping pills, then pick myself back up by overdosing on caffeine. I didn’t listen when my friends and family told me to slow down. It was like the more I achieved, the more I needed it. Don—my therapist—later explained I’d tied my identity and self-worth to productivity. That’s why I kept pushing myself harder. And harder. Until everything just… shut down.”
I finally look at her. The sun is bright, but the memory is dark. “I was rushed to the hospital with my kidneys failing and my heart red-lining.”
She gasps, her eyes shimmering with shock.
I look away and finish it.
“I woke up five days later in the ICU. Doctors called it acomplete systemic collapse. I managed every outcome—except this. I was thirty-one, and the pace I thought I couldn’t live without… had almost killed me. And that wasn’t even the worst part,” I say, my voice cracking.
“It was waking up in the middle of the night to find my father—the most stoic person I know—at my bedside, sobbing. That’s what did it for me. I didn’t want to be that man anymore. A man who drove himself to the brink. Who hurt people I love.”
“DK,” she whispers, forcing my eyes to hers. No judgment, just care. She wraps her arms around my back and pulls me in, leaving no space between us. Her bun brushes under my chin, her heart beats wildly, a deep echo through my chest.
I knew—especially after last night—that she’d meet me with softness. But what she says next still brings me to my knees.
“Surviving that… wasn’t just a physical feat. It shows how strong you are. How resilient. How much you love your family. Breaking that pattern… I can’t even imagine how hard that would have been. I’m so amazed by you.”
I pull her down into the sand with me, my knees hitting the wet earth, still locked in the circle of her arms. Something in my chest—the part I’ve kept steel-armored and bolted shut—breaks wide open. The tears come hard, a violent release of everything I’d never given myself permission to feel out loud.
I let it all spill out—the guilt I’ve carried, the weight I held so my family wouldn’t have to, the chilling fear of how close I came to dying.
My body shakes with it, and Luna just holds me tighter—absorbing it all as the rippling of the lake drifts in and laps against us.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rayne
His grief is the most honest thing I’ve ever felt. I cry too—for him, for me. Cleansing tears, washing away the fears Hollis left behind, making room in my heart for every part of DK.
It all makes sense now. His rigid schedules, the unwavering boundaries he sets around his work—it isn’t just a personality trait. It’s the scaffolding he built to keep himself from sliding back into a death trap. It’s etched in the lines of his tattoo.
What he shared explains why he so easily accepted me learning how to trust my judgment again. We both know what it feels like to let ourselves down.
