Page 116 of Golden Ruin

She blinks for longer than necessary, like my persistence is wearing on her patience. “And what am I supposed to do with that, Sterling? Change my entire plan because you’ve finally decided you’re ready to deal with me?”

My jaw ticks hearing those words leave her mouth. I’m not even sure she meant to say them. She’s always direct, but this… it cuts deep.

I lower my head, letting that sit in the middle of my chest because I deserve it. We both know it.

“I’m a lot,” she says. “No one knows that better than me, but I guess I just… I expected more.”

From me.

She expected more from me.

“I’m pissed at you,” she admits, and her eyes stay trained on me.

But even with my gut in knots, I refuse to look away. Anything that might make her think I’m withdrawing, or that I’m not staying in this with her isn’t an option.

She wipes her eyes. “I know it’s been years, and I know I should be over it, but this shit still fucks with me. I feel it every time I think about all the time we missed, or when I think about how you moved on without me, or when I see you with Jax, and I have to think about everything he would’ve had if we’d gotten our shit together. I just… I can’t bet everything on you. Not again. Not with how much it cost me before.”

I’m breathing faster, and so is she. The room feels tense and heavy, but maybe this is what it’ll take.

“Tell me what it did to you.”

She’s quiet, staring at me through the darkness. “What?”

I stand to my feet, taking steps toward her. “I’m right here. I’m listening. And if you’re ready, I want you to tell me what my leaving did to you.”

No part of me wants to hear this, but she’s been carrying it on her own for years. So, if unloading it all on me will help her heal, I’m strong enough to handle it now. For both of us.

“Tell me, Lex.”

Her eyes catch mine again, and the sight of tears in hers makes my chest tighten.

“There’s no point,” she says quietly, then turns to walk away, but I reach for her, because we can’t keep doing this, pretending our problems will just fix themselves.

She stares at my fingers looped around her wrist, then her gaze slowly rises to meet mine.

“What do you want me to say?” she shrugs, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“Everything. Whatever I made you feel, whatever you’ve been holding in, I want you to say it.”

Seconds tick past, and I’m worried she thinks these are just empty words.

“You knew me,” she starts. “You knew who I was, how I was, and you still switched up on me.”

I don’t even blink as I stare at her, feeling the emotions rolling off her body, slamming into mine like waves.

“You weren’t just my boyfriend. You were my best friend. You knew me inside and out, all my flaws, my history, but none of that mattered. When you left, I thought I just lost twice–my partner, my best friend–but then I found out about Jax and realized I actually lost three times.”

She pauses to wipe her eyes, and I’m grateful for having a moment to breathe after that part.

“Honestly, it’s on me because I got comfortable,” she says. “I let myself think you were in it as deep as I was, let myself think the love was unconditional, but I got it wrong back then, and… I can’t trust that I don’t have it wrong now.”

Don’t retreat.

I see her wanting to slip away, shaking her head, feeling like she’s saying too much, so I grab both her hands, pull her back into this space.

“Keep talking,” I say quietly.

She takes another breath, and for a moment, I think she’ll leave anyway, but she stays.