Page 124 of The Beast

Bella looked at him, her eyes searching his face as if for cracks. For any sign that this was just another pretty speech.

He let her look. He had nothing left to hide.

“I want to believe you,” she finally said.

“But?”

“But I’ve heard a lot of promises from a lot of men that weren’t worth a dime. My father. David. Even you—you promised to come back from Aspen, and then you were gone for five years. You were right here. Right under my nose, and I never had a clue.”

She pulled her hand gently from his. “I need more than words, Gabe. I need time.”

“Time.” The word tasted sour and felt like a slamming door.

“Time to think. Time to figure out if loving each other is enough.” She wrapped her arms around herself again, pulling away. “I hear what you’re saying. And I believe you want to mean it. But wanting and doing are different things.”

“Bella.”

“Please.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Please just let me sleep on it. Let me figure out what I need.”

Every instinct screamed at him to stay. To argue. To hold her until she believed him, until the wall between them crumbled and they were back in bed, tangled together like this morning had never happened.

But that wasn’t what she was asking for. And if he was really going to be different—really going to choose her better angels over his demons—then this was where it started.

“Okay,” he said.

She blinked. “Okay? Really? Okay?”

“You need time. I’ll give you time.” He stepped back, putting distance between them even though each inch made his heart ache more.

“Oh.”

He heard the surprise in her voice and almost laughed.

“Gabe. Thank you.”

“I love you.” He said it simply, without expectation. “I’ll love you tomorrow, and the day after, and every day until you tell me to stop. And I’ll keep loving you then, too, because stopping’s impossible. But I’ll be quieter about it.”

She smiled, and the sight of it squeezed his heart. “Seriously. Take whatever time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

He made himself turn. Made himself walk back through the penthouse, past the expensive furniture and the stunning views and all the trappings of the Grimm empire that suddenly meant nothing.

At the elevator, he paused and looked back.

She was still on the balcony, silhouetted against the city lights, small and alone.

He wanted to go back to her. Wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything.

Instead, he pressed the button and stepped into the elevator.

The doors closed, and Gabriel Grimm did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life.

He let her go.