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“Do what?” He knew what she meant, but he needed her to say it out loud.
“This,” she said, gesturing around her. “Being stuck in this house. Being afraid to leave. Being afraid to live.”
She buried her face in Alfie’s fur and let out a long, shuddering breath. Then she looked up and there—there was his Veronica. There was a spark of the fierce, determined woman he’d always loved. He reached out again, this time slowly, giving her the choice to accept or reject his touch.
She hesitated for a moment, then tentatively placed her hand in his. “I’m going to leave the house.”
His heart soared as he closed his fingers around hers and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Are you sure?”
“It’s time.”
* * *
Leaving the house proved to be easier said than done. It shouldn’t have been that difficult. Her mind was made up, and she was determined to conquer her fears.
But when Connelly held open the door, her feet grew roots. Her mouth went desert dry. Her lungs seized up. The thought of being out in the open, vulnerable to the world...
She couldn’t do it.
After a long moment, Conn shut the door. His expression was all sympathetic, but she saw the sorrow in his eyes. He was struggling to understand something that she couldn’t explain because she didn’t understand it herself.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “We’ll start slow and work our way up.”
She hated the tears burning in her eyes. She hated that he was there to see them. “I think you should leave.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
But he had to leave. She couldn’t breathe with him here.
Connelly moved towards her. His every step felt like an assault on her senses. She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed him to leave, and she needed him to leave now.
“Please, Conn.” Her voice broke on his name. “I can’t do this right now.”
He stopped in his tracks, his eyes searching hers. She couldn’t begin to wonder what he was looking for. The strong, independent woman she used to be? Or maybe the girl who used to stand up to his bullies before he grew enough to fight them off himself? Whatever he hoped to see there, he wouldn’t find it. She didn’t even know who she was anymore.
She watched as his shoulders slumped, and he let out a sigh full of resignation.
“Okay,” he said, taking a step back and holding up his hands. “I won’t push you.”
The relief was palpable. She felt guilty for not being able to do what she had promised. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” His tone was gentle, understanding, and somehow that made it all worse. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”
She dreaded it.
“Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”
She shook her head and turned her back to him, her hands trembling. “Take the dogs with you.”
He hesitated. “Both of them?”
“Yes.”
He was silent for a beat. Then she heard him move, and the front door clicked shut.
She pressed her hands over her mouth to muffle her sob as a wave of loneliness washed over her.
Alone again.
