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His expression softens, and somehow that makes it worse.
“Tessa,” he says gently, “you don’t have to decide anything right now.”
But that’s exactly what terrifies me.
Because if I don’t decide, I might keep choosing him. Again and again. Without thinking. Without accounting for the cost.
I take a step back.
Then another.
Nash straightens, sensing the shift. “Where are you going?”
“I need…” My breath stutters. “I need space.”
The word feels inadequate. I need distance. I need clarity. I need my spine back where it belongs instead of tilted toward him like gravity rewrote itself.
He nods once, even though I can see how much it costs him. “Okay.”
I hate him a little for making it so easy.
I hate myself more.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for anymore.
He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Finally, he says, “You don’t have to run.”
But I already am.
I turn before he can say anything else. Before I can change my mind. Before I can lean back into him and let this become something I can’t undo.
The cold bites as I move down the lane, boots slipping slightly on the packed snow, heart hammering like I’ve just fled a crime scene.
I don’t look back.
If I do, I might stop.
And I don’t trust myself to do anything except keep running, away from the man I just let inside every wall I’ve spent my life building.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Nash
February 2nd
I wake up alone.
That’s the first thing I register. Instead of the gray light leaking through the curtains and the ache behind my eyes or the dull weight in my chest. Just the absence beside me, loud as a slammed door.
The bed is cold where she should be.
Where, after last night, I guess a part of me thought she would be.
I lie there for a minute longer than necessary, staring at the ceiling, hoping everything might rearrange itself into a different outcome if I give it enough time. Last night might rewind if I don’t move.
It doesn’t.
My phone is on the nightstand, face down. I don’t flip it over. I already know what’s waiting for me.
