Page 47

I move closer, feeling oddly shy despite everything. “Thanks,” I say softly. “For everything. It meant more with you here.”
The broom stills in his hands. His green eyes lift to mine, steady, warm. And my pulse stumbles.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The air shifts, thickens, charged with something neither of us is willing to name. He’s close enough that I catch his scent, cedar and salt air, grounding, familiar. A warmth I haven’t let myself lean into for years. Too close.
I need to pull back. But instead, I step forward. And before I can overthink it, I hug him. It’s instinct, a rush of gratitude, of emotion too big to hold in. I expect him to stiffen, to hesitate. For one agonizing second, he does.
Then he exhales, his arms coming around me. His body is warm, solid, the press of him against me sending a wave of hot memories crashing through my defenses. He smells the same, feels the same, and for a fleeting second, it’s like nothing has changed.
Except everything has. We pull apart slowly. My breath is unsteady, my heart knocking hard against my ribs.
“Sorry,” I murmur, voice unsteady. “I just… I got emotional. You’ve supported me from the start of this, and I…”
Bryan shakes his head, cutting me off. “Don’t apologize. Besides, I've not done much.”
His voice is lower now, rougher. There’s something unreadable in his eyes, something too much.
I look away, needing space, needing air. “You don’t have to do anything else,” I tell him, stepping back. “You’ve done more than enough these past few weeks.”
Bryan exhales, raking a hand through his hair. “I still have a donation to give.”
I blink. “Bryan…”
“We had a deal,” he reminds me. “If the fundraiser didn’t work, I’d step in. It did work. But I still want to contribute.”
I shake my head, heart twisting. “You’ve already done so much.”
“Not enough,” he says simply. His voice is so calm, so certain, that it steals the argument right from my lips.
I try again. “Bryan…”
“I believe in you, Emma.” My breath catches.
He steps closer, his gaze locked on mine, unwavering. “Your dreams. This clinic. I believe in it. And I’m going to support you every step of the way.”
His words knock the air from my lungs. For a second, I forget how to speak. The intensity in his voice, the raw truth behind it, it’s everything.
It’s the words I never thought I’d hear from him again. The kind of faith I had lost after leaving him years ago. My throat tightens. I should say something. Thank you, I appreciate it, I’m grateful. But my lips part and nothing comes out.
Because this? This means something. This means everything. Then, my phone buzzes. The moment shatters like glass hitting pavement.
I blink, reality crashing back into place. My fingers tremble as I dig the phone out of my pocket and glance at the screen. My stomach plummets. The message is short, clipped, and enough to ruin everything. Your deadline is up. We expect payment by tomorrow. No extensions.
Cold washes through me, drowning out the warmth from moments ago. No, no, no. I had more time. I was supposed to have more time. I swallow hard, forcing my face into something neutral as I shove the phone back into my pocket.
Bryan frowns, immediately noticing my shift. “What’s wrong?”
Everything.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, stepping back. “I just…” My voice catches. I exhale. “I have to go.”
Bryan watches me, eyes narrowing slightly. He doesn’t believe me. He never did when I lied.
But right now? I can’t talk about it. Not when the walls I’ve spent weeks rebuilding are threatening to crumble. Not when the weight of everything suddenly feels unbearable.
So, I turn before he can press, forcing my feet to move, forcing myself away from the man who somehow still sees too much.
And for the first time today, I feel utterly alone.