third finger, and he held his breath for this one. “You’re not saying you don’t love me.”
At that, her eyes flew to his, stricken and damp. But she still said nothing. Not one word. With her silence, the tightness in his chest loosened, if only slightly.
Love couldn’t solve everything, but without love, there was nothing to solve.
The fourth and final finger. “And you’re not saying you think you’ll grow tired of me or consider me a burden during the school year. You’re not saying you think you’ll stop loving or wanting me if we live in the same place.”
Her lips, which she’d bitten raw at some point today, opened. Closed again.
He leaned in close, holding her gaze. Refusing to let her hide. “In theory, then, all your objections, all those practical concerns—and they’re valid, don’t misunderstand me, and I should have prepared to address them before talking to you tonight—are about me. My needs. My happiness. My future.” With a quick glance downward, he confirmed what he’d seen in his peripheral vision. Her fingers, wrung bone-white. Still, he didn’t relent. “But I need you to explain something to me, älskling.”
She waited wordlessly.
“When exactly did you become responsible for all those things?” He tilted his head in mock inquiry. “At what point did I stop being the expert on my own wants and needs and dreams for the future? That’s condescending as hell, Tess, and I expected better from you.”
At that, she flinched. “I didn’t mean to discount—”
“You told me I wouldn’t want the life you lead during the school year, and I wouldn’t want you outside of this island.” He raised his brows. “As you rightly pointed out, you met me less than two weeks ago. So how can you possibly know that? How can you possibly claim to know better than I do how I’d feel?”
Her mouth worked, her eyes shining with tears, but he made himself finish. Stopped himself from reaching for her and cutting short an argument they needed to have, however painful it was for both of them.
He spoke slowly. Clearly. “Even if I’m wrong and you’re right, and I did regret the move, the decision would be mine to make and mine to regret. You’re older than me, but you’re not my mother, and you’re not my assistant principal.”
“But it would be mine to regret too!” She jumped to her feet, her voice near a shout. “How can you—”
Her rational façade had shattered, and it hurt to watch. Her pain nauseated him, even though he’d deliberately provoked her. Deliberately swung at her protective veneer in hopes of fissuring it and getting at the truth.
Her tears spilled over then, trailing down her blotchy cheeks, and he silently handed her a tissue. “I-if you moved to Marysburg, and we were together for months, and I lived with you, and you decided you didn’t want me—”
She sobbed, bent over at the waist from the force of her pain, the sound from her throat rough and loud and heartrending.
He wasn’t done, but he also couldn’t stand to watch from a distance any longer.
In two steps, he was at her side, and within a breath he was cradling her in his arms, letting her hide her face against his chest.
He spoke into her hair. “That brings us to the central issue, I think.”
Her shoulders were shaking, and he rubbed her back soothingly.
“Earlier tonight, you said you trusted me. I believe you, Tess. You trust me.” He kissed the crown of her head, resting his cheek there. “I don’t think you trust yourself.”
Her arms were wound so tightly around his waist, he could barely breathe. Or maybe that was his own emotion, his own grief and anxiety.
“All that pragmatism, älskling. All that rational doubt, covering all that fear.” She made a wounded sound, thin and shaken, and his own sight blurred. “You’re enough for me, Tess. You’re worth a risk. But I can’t convince you of that if you won’t let me.”
His t-shirt was wet over his chest now, as if his heart were bleeding.
“Shhhh.” He stroked her hair, resting a supportive hand on her neck as she slowly calmed. “I’m done now. I’m done. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”
The exercise, one he’d practiced using biofeedback and deployed during fraught matches, helped both of them.
Eventually, she spoke against his chest, her voice small and choked. “That’d be easier if I could actually breathe through my nose.”
Leaning to his side, he snagged another tissue and handed it