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No response comes.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have, because suddenly I’m back in the octagon.

Fight night. The roar of the crowd. Zane across from me, golden skin gleaming under the lights, amber eyes locked on mine with that intensity that makes my blood sing.

We fight. The same fight—every clinch, every exchange, every moment our bodies collide. I feel his breath against my neck during a grapple. Feel the heat of his skin through our shorts. Feel the way his hands grip me with something that goes beyond combat.

The final bell rings.

But this time, when the officials try to separate us, Zane doesn’t let go.

He pulls me closer instead. Presses his forehead against mine. We’re both gasping for air, both bleeding, both trembling with exhaustion and something else entirely.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His voice cracks, breaks, shatters into something raw and real. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

I try to answer, but no words come out.

His eyes are wet. His hands shake where they grip my shoulders.

“I don’t know how to be brave,” he says. “I don’t know how to want you and not hate myself for it. I don’t know how to⁠—”

I kiss him.

In front of eleven thousand people. In front of every camera. In front of a world that might tear us apart for this moment of honesty.

I kiss him because I don’t have words either.

And he kisses me back like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

I wake up gasping.

My room is dark. Silent. Empty.

The space beside me is cold.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, but it doesn’t stop the burning. Doesn’t stop the wetness that leaks out anyway.

Just a dream. It was just a dream.

But the ache in my chest is real. The hollow feeling where hope used to be—that’s real too.

I lie there in the darkness, listening to my own breathing, and wonder if I can do this. If I can wait for someone who might never be ready. If I can carry this weight without being crushed.

No answers come.

Only the silence, and the memory of a kiss that changed everything, and the desperate whisper of a man who ran away before I could convince him to stay.

When you’re ready to stop running, you know where to find me.

I meant every word.

I just don’t know if he’ll ever believe it.

9

ZANE

My phone screen burns into my retinas.