Page 26

LENNOX

T he meeting ended with a polite chorus of “Take care, Lennox,” and smiles.

The screen faded to black, leaving nothing but my reflection staring back at me, faint and worn-out in the gloss of the laptop.

I closed it slowly, letting my fingers linger like the weight of everything I hadn’t said was trapped under the lid.

Jevon’s smile had been tight the entire time. Ever since that night at my place, things between us had shifted. But I didn’t care in the least, especially not when my thoughts were full of another man. Omir. That man was in my bloodstream. I couldn’t shake him if I tried. And God, I’d tried.

I stood and began pacing the guest bedroom as the loop began playing in my head.

The night we met. The intensity. Our first night together.

Our last moments. Finding out he’s engaged.

Missing him. Wanting to feel him again. Seeing him.

Him in the kitchen with my mother. Laughing.

Hugging me. Kissing me. Everything hit me.

The way I’d stood in his presence but hadn’t said a damn word that mattered.

I was leaving for Chicago the day after tomorrow.

My perfectly structured life. But here I was, spinning, spiraling, stuck.

Could I really just leave without saying it?

I stopped mid-step, ran both hands through my hair, and whispered, “No.” But I wasn’t the kind of woman who begged.

I didn’t chase. I didn’t show up at no man’s door, spilling feelings like a broken faucet.

Except, . . . maybe I did. Because I couldn’t not say it. Not now. Not after everything.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbed my phone, and stared at Omir’s name in my recent Instagram messages. My thumb hovered over the screen as I typed:

Can you meet me tonight? I need to talk to you. It’s important and can’t wait.

My heart pounded as I stared at the message. Sent. And then came the wait. I stood. I sat. I stood again. I told myself I was being ridiculous. That he probably wouldn’t even respond. That maybe he’d moved on for real this time.

But then my phone lit up.

ODaGoat: Where do you wanna meet?

My breath hitched. I typed back quickly:

The park by the ABH lake. 9 p.m.

No reply at first. Doubt crept in like smoke under a door.

Then. . .

ODaGoat: Cool. See you there.

I pressed the phone to my chest, eyes closing as I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

This was happening.

I showered, took my time getting dressed.

Nothing overdone—just a black long-sleeve knit dress that hugged me right at the waist, paired with a cropped jean jacket and ankle boots.

My makeup was soft but flawless, lips glossy, lashes curled, brows sharp.

I pulled my hair into a sleek ponytail, checked the mirror twice, then three more times.

My eyes looked tired. Haunted. But I was still me. And I needed to do this. No matter how it ended.

I headed downstairs to find my mom sitting in the kitchen with a mug of tea and that look on her face. The one that said she knew something was off without asking. “You’re dressed like you’re meeting somebody,” she said, sipping slowly.

I gave her a small smile. “I am.”

She didn’t press at first. Just nodded. “Omir?” I paused, then nodded.

Tears stung the backs of my eyes before I could stop them.

I looked away. “Oh, baby. . .” she said, her voice soft and knowing.

“You can leave a city, Lennox. You can leave a job. Hell, you can even leave a man’s house.

But when somebody’s in your heart like that?

Time don’t undo it. Distance don’t fix it. Only truth does.”

I looked back at her, finally letting a tear fall. “I’m scared, Mom.”

“Of what?”

“Of being rejected. I literally pushed him away. What am I even doing?”

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You speak your truth anyway. Because what’s worse, getting your heart broken or living your whole life wondering what would’ve happened if you’d just opened your mouth?”

The gravel crunched beneath my tires as I pulled into the small lot by the lake, the moon hanging low, silver and solemn over the water. The city felt miles away out here, even though it wasn’t. The sounds were different—quiet, still, like everything had paused just for us.

I spotted his car immediately parked crooked like he got there fast and didn’t care about lines.

He was leaning against the hood, one boot crossed over the other, hands shoved into the pockets of his black hoodie.

His beard was scruffy. Eyes low. His head tilted when he saw me approach, that same unreadable look in his eyes that had always driven me crazy. God, he was fine.

He always had been. But this was different. This was a man hardened by loss and sharpened by silence. Still grieving. Still standing. And every damn part of me wanted to run into his arms and tell him I never should’ve let him go.

I stepped out of the car, my boots crunching softly against the gravel. He didn’t move.

“Hey,” I said, voice soft.

“Hey.” His tone matched mine—quiet, careful—but his eyes never left mine.

We walked side by side toward the water, toward that familiar bench. Neither of us said anything, not at first. The breeze off the lake was cool and smelled like pine and memory. My heart thundered so loud I was sure he could hear it.

He stared at the lake. I stared at him. “So,” he said finally. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait?”

I took a shaky breath. “Omir. . . I need to be honest with you.”

He turned to me, jaw tight. “Alright. Be honest.”

“I love you.”

His body went still, but his face didn’t move. “Don’t.”

“I mean it,” I whispered. “I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you. I just?—”

“Don’t do that, Lennox.” His voice was firmer now. “Don’t drop this shit on me like it’s supposed to fix anything.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “I’m not trying to fix anything. I just. . . I couldn’t leave again without telling you. I had to?—”

“What? Ease your conscience?”

“No!” I snapped, heat rising in my chest. “This isn’t about guilt. This is about truth. I’m standing here trying to own something. Something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

He laughed, low and bitter, shaking his head. “You wanna talk about time? Where the hell was all this truth when I was telling you what it was from jump? When I was fucked up in silence after you left without so much as a fight?”

“I didn’t know how to stay!” I shot back. “I didn’t know how to choose my career and something new! I was scared, Omir!”

He stood up, pacing now. The moonlight lit up his expression—his anger, his pain, the way his fists clenched as he fought to stay calm.

“You think I wasn’t scared? You think I didn’t have doubts?

Hell, I don’t even believe in love at first sight type shit, but with you, I felt it. I knew what the fuck it was.”

I stood too. “I’m not here asking you to erase everything. I’m not asking you to take me back. I’m asking you to see me. Right now.”

He turned to face me fully, his chest rising and falling with each breath. “And what the hell am I supposed to do with this, Lennox? I’m engaged. I’m getting fucking married.” That sliced through me like glass.

“I know,” I said, barely able to breathe through the ache. “And I hate that I’m saying all of this now, when it’s probably too late. But if I didn’t, I’d regret it for the rest of my life. You deserve to know. Whether you can forgive me or not. Whether you want me or not, I had to say it.”

He stared at me, and for a second—just one second—I saw it. That flicker. That thing that had always lived between us. Raw and unspoken. It was still there. And then it was gone.

His voice was low when he said, “You don’t get to show up with the truth when it’s convenient. You don’t get to light a match and walk away from a fire you started, then come back later, talking about love. That’s selfish as fuck of you.”

Tears slid down my cheeks. Silent. Hot. “I’m sorry, Omir,” I whispered.

“So am I,” he said, and his voice broke just slightly. “Because I never stopped loving you.” I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to hold the pieces together. “But I don’t know how to let you back in without breaking everything I’ve built in your absence,” he finished.

I nodded, even though it shattered me. “I understand.” We stood there, inches apart, the lake reflecting every ache neither of us could say. “I, uh. . . I leave tomorrow,” I said, voice thick.

He looked like he wanted to say something. Maybe to stop me. Maybe to walk away first. But he just nodded. And I turned. Walked back to my car with every step tearing something inside me. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. Because loving him meant letting him go this time. For real.