Page 145 of The Jaded Notes

He studies me with those dark eyes, but he doesn’t try to fill the gap with empty reassurances or platitudes about how I’m stronger than I think. He just nods, understanding passing between us like an electric current that makes my skin tingle.

His reaction to my answer makes me brave enough to push deeper. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done to someone you love?”

“I disappeared.” He faces the fire and stares into the space before him as if reliving something. “When going after them would have put them in more danger, I vanished and let everyone think I was as good as dead.”

The agony in his admission makes my chest ache. The image of him walking away from someone he loved to keep them safe paints him in shades of tragedy that explain so much about the bricks he keeps around his heart. Maybe that’s why he’s kept me at arm’s length all this time.

Will he retreat from my life when things get too intense?

Or what if somehow I fuck up and take something from him? Something like I took from Callum or my parents? What if I’m not done hurting the people I love to the point they can never fully forgive me?

“Your turn,mon trésor.What’s the worst thing you’ve done to someone you love?”

I swallow and give a half-truth. “You already know what I did. It’s what my entire business is built on.”

He sits with that for a moment, then sighs. “Let’s make this more enjoyable. What’s your favorite song?”

My heart shrinks, but I answer as honestly as I can. “I have more than one, but if I don’t say something from my brother’s band, I’m a terrible sister.”

He laughs, and the mood shifts in an instant. We continue the game for a bit as we fold the laundry he pulled from the dryer.

I smooth out wrinkles from our bedding while he tells me about the first business he ever invested in, a food truck that failed spectacularly when he was only eighteen.

I tell him about the first dress I ever sketched. It was a disaster of tulle and sequins that my mother diplomatically called “ambitious.”

He tells me about losing his childhood dog when he was five and how he still carries the plastic collar tag in his wallet like a talisman.

I tell him about the scar on my chin, how I got it falling off my bike when I was seven and how my mom was more worried about how it would photograph than whether I was hurt.

The conversation flows like wine, each revelation bringing us closer. Not the physical kind we’ve mastered in his bedroom but the emotional variety that leaves you naked in ways that have nothing to do with clothes.

Eventually, exhaustion creeps up on me like fog rolling infrom the ocean. My eyelids grow heavy, and my head finds its way to his shoulder.

The steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his body lull me into that drowsy space between wake and sleep where everything is soft around the edges.

I let my breathing slow and even out, almost drifting off while staying conscious enough to savor the feeling of being held without expectation. Without the need to perform, please, or be anything other than exactly what I am in this moment.

I close my eyes and melt into his arms, ready to fall asleep. His voice wisps over me like he’s sharing a secret with the darkness.

“You don’t have to be strong with me, Livianna.” His lips press against the top of my head and the words vibrate through his chest where my cheek rests. “Because I’d burn the world down for you and more. I’ll protect you always, and anything you need to be happy is yours no matter what the cost.”

My breath catches in my throat, but I force myself to remain still, to let him think I’m sleeping so he won’t take back the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. The raw honesty in his voice makes my heart race against my ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage.

In this moment, something shifts between us. Something fundamental and terrifying and perfect all at once. He’s the only man who has never made me feel like I have to hold it all together.

And maybe...that’s what love actually is.

I only hope he feels the same because when I tell him tomorrow night I’m in love with him and if he doesn’t respond how I want, I’ll be shattered into a million bloody pieces, never able to recover from the loss.

Chapter Thirty-Two

LIVIANNA/LILY

April - One & A Half Weeks From Now

Crushing Calls & Relentless Rockstars

Some stages collapse the moment love becomes the encore.