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“It’s late.”
“I don’t care.”
“So, becauseyoudon’t care, I’m not allowed to?”
“Fuck,” he curses softly. “That came out wrong.”
“Yeah. It did. I think we should both get some sleep and talk tomorrow.”
“I’m not leaving this, Amelia. And I do care that you need your sleep, that you’re tired, that you’re still feeling the burn of this, but I heard you today. I heard how you looked at me like I could hurt you. And I hated that I did that to you. Because I never want to be a man you flinch from. Let me come over so we can talk.”
“See, this is it, Gage. You’re not hearing me now. I’m telling you I need a minute and you’re not giving it to me.”
He turns silent for a long moment, and I hear the clink of ice that tells me he’s drinking whiskey.
When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, like I’m dragging him through hell. “Okay.”
That’s all he says, but he doesn’t disconnect the call.
He stays on the line.
And so do I.
Because this ache is too hard to handle alone.
My tears begin a minute into the silence.
I try to keep them quiet, to myself, but fail.
Gage curses softly but doesn’t say anything. And I just know that’s killing him. And yet, I can’t bring myself to sayplease come over and make this all better and fix my nervous system while you’re at it.
I cry for a good five minutes. Not sobs, just gentle tears. I think they’re years-deep and have never had the space to release. But also, there are new tears too. The ones I’m crying over not being able to move past my fears.
I love Gage.
I just don’t know if love is enough when a person’s still learning how to feel safe.
And maybe that’s what hurts the most. This isn’t about him failing me. It’s about me still repairing what someone else broke.
It’s about the part of me that hears raised voices and cold tones and checks for sharp edges.
Maybe I needed more time before diving into something this intense.
Maybe I should have waited until my body could tell the difference between a man raising his voice and a man raising a red flag.
I don’t want to lose him. God, Idon’t.
But I think I need to find my own center before I can meet him at his.
I stay on the line for another ten minutes, and then I whisper through my tears, “I’ll come to you in the morning.”
“Whatever you need, Amelia. I’ll do it.”
31
Gage
Love is the sharpest blade I’ve ever known. And right now, it’s pressed hard to my throat. I’ve survived high-stakes deals, blackmail, and betrayal. But one sleepless night without Amelia? I’m on my fucking knees.