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“Sweetheart, I already know.”
“Please,” Wren whispers. “If something happens today—if one of you gets hurt, or caught, or . . .” She doesn’t finish that last part, which is probably for the best. “I need to say it. I need you to hear it.”
But I don’t think I can say it back.
My throat is closing in on itself, and my skin is on fire, but I don’t show it. The last time we went on a job without her, she almost died. I won’t take this from her if she needs it.
Wren doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t step any closer than she already is. But she holds my gaze as she takes a deep breath.
I hold my own in anticipation.
“I love you,” she says. “I have for a while now. Maybe before I should’ve, but I don’t care. I’ve been given the chance to be loved by one of the most caring, strong, and fiercely loyal men I’ve ever met. You make me feel seen, Rhett. AndI see you.I see your struggles. I see your heart. And every time you reveal a new part of yourself, I fall more deeply in love with you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop, and I don’t want to.”
“Wren.” Her name sounds wrong on my lips. My voice is broken. Distressed. A far cry from the joy and reciprocation she deserves.
“I don’t want you to say it back.”
A weight is lifted from my chest at the same time a new one crashes down on me. I have to grip the back of my chair to keep from losing my balance. “But—”
“Don’t. Not until you can say it without it making you uncomfortable. Without it making you think of him.”
“And if I never reach that point?” I rasp.
She smiles, even if it’s small. “I know anyway.”
“You deserve better than that,” I grit out.
“And you deserve to be loved the way you need to be loved. You deserve patience and understanding. You deserve to be told that you’re loved simply because it’s true. Not because I’m expecting you to say it back.”
“Wren—”
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
No.No.This can’t happen like this. It can’t. It can’t, it can’t, it can’t. But I can’t bring myself to say the words.
Partly because ofhim,but also because she doesn’t want me to. Not like this.
My vision blurs. It’s like I’m stuck. Suspended between who I am and who I want to be. Between the darkness of my past and the love and safety of my present. My future.
Don’t let him win.
Fight for her—even if your best is what you wish was your worst.
There’s no possible way I can say the words. Wren deserves better than them being forced, anyway. But I have to do something.Anything.Anything other than standing here while she stares at me with such care, such understanding, even though I’m probably breaking her heart.
When I step toward Wren, she steps back. I try it again and get the same reaction. Again and again and again until she’s pressed up against one of the bookshelves.
She shakes her head. “You don’t have to touch me.”
“Ineedto touch you.”
Wren frowns.
That’s not how this should go.
She should be smiling. She should be laughing and kissing you and hearing you say it back.
“You need to?” She’s tilting her head, watching me with worry.
