Page 190 of Silent Shadows

I laugh once. “I was emotionally unstable.”

“You color-coded it.”

“Why shouldn’t coping look beautiful?”

His mouth twitches. Small. God, I missed that. I missed him. The stupid dry humor. The quiet earnestness. The impossible softness he hides under obsession.

I knew it when Marissa and I decided to build the imprint. But I feel it in my bones now—I choose them. Choose him.

For once, I’m not taking something apart for content. I’m building something that keeps it safe and whole.

Our eyes meet, full of everything unsaid.

“You said I care in a way people can feel,” I say.

His expression shifts, almost confused.

“I think…” God. Why is this harder than podcast negotiations? “I think I finally figured out what to do with that.”

Silence and a smile.

The wind picks up for a moment, blowing my hair in my face. The earlier rain has washed the brush clean, the fresh smell rising in the cool night air. The whole world narrows around us.

“You came back,” he says again, eyes wide under those glasses. He’s quieter this time. Like he still can’t quite believe it.

I exhale and look down at my hands. Then make myself tell the truth.

“I left because I was scared. I thought…” I let out a shaky laugh. “Honestly? I thought if I left first, it would hurt less.”

His jaw tightens. Something pained flickering across his face.

“Daisy.”

“No, let me finish.” Before I puke or lose my nerve.

“I kept waiting for you to see through me. To get tired of my shell.” I think of my conversation with Marissa. “But I think you did see the real me. And I was scared you’d get bored of that, too.”

The words come quieter now.

“So I think…” I swallow hard. “I think I decided for you.”

He takes a step closer, slow and careful.

“I was scared too,” he says quietly.

The honesty catches me off guard.

“I go into fix-it mode when I’m scared.” He huffs a weak laugh. Humorless. “Which I’m learning can make me emotionally insufferable.”

Despite everything, I laugh and sniffle my nose.

“A little.”

His mouth tips upward, and his hand reaches out to grab mine. His thumb traces over my knuckles.

“You aren’t wrong.”

The words surprise me.