Page 108 of When We Are Falling

I turn to look at him then, really look at him. His face is bathed in moonlight, catching the stubble on his strong jaw. He’s watching me, waiting for me to say something.

He’s still here.

He’s still waiting, even after everything. Even after I told him I wasn’t ready for a relationship, after I pushed him away. He’s still right here beside me, patient, not pushing, just... being there in every way I need him.

He shifts beside me and then reaches out. His hand finds mine in the space between us, his fingers brushing against mine,gentle and unassuming. There’s no pressure, no expectation—just a quiet offer.

I shift to hold his hand and his fingers slowly entwine with mine, his grip firm but so tender and treasuring it makes my chest tighten. And somehow, in the simplicity of that gesture, in the quiet certainty of his touch, inthisplace, our Secret Spot, I finally hear what he’s been saying.

He’s not going to leave.He’ll really wait as long as I need, and for the first time, I believe him. Because he’s already shown me.

What’s that Bible verse they read at every wedding? Love is patient, love is kind.

They also say time heals all wounds, and maybe that’s another truth.

Something shifts, like the fog I’ve been walking through for months finally lifts, and I see it all clearly for the very first time. The way Ethan has been there the way I need—not just physically, but emotionally, in all the ways that matters.

He’s been telling me for so long that I’m not alone, that he’s not going anywhere. And he was right about my moms, too. Even though they’re getting divorced and going through their own stuff, they still love me and always will.

A year ago, I wouldn’t have been able to believe that I’m loved no matter what, that I don’t have to carry every burden alone, that I can rely on people and they’re not going to leave. It’s a thought that feels so foreign and yet, so natural now. He’s changed me in ways I hadn’t noticed until this moment. He’s helped me trust—trust him, trust myself, trust the people I love.

He made mistakes. We both have. But his love, the way I’m everything to him, has been steady through it all. It’s so strong, so pure, and for the first time, my walls come all the way down. And to my surprise, I don’t feel like I’m standing out in the open, waiting to be left all alone.

I feel strong. I feel supported.

It’s like the light he’s brought into my life has seeped through every crack, every break, every part of me I thought was broken, illuminating me from the inside out, highlighting my true, authentic self.

Which he loves anyway.

I glance at Ethan again, my heart swelling. He’s been patient, waiting for me to figure things out, and now... now I finally have.

With my walls down, I see so far and so openly for the first time in my life. I’ve got perspective. Clarity. Truth: I’m not broken. I’m just an imperfect person, like Ethan. And the two of us are stronger together.

I’m finally ready to let him in. All the way.

He leans toward me, just enough that I can feel his warmth, but he doesn’t get in my space. His voice is low, and he shakes his head, still holding my hand: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that about starting again. I know you said you don’t want a relationship. And I didn’t bring you here to convince you of anything. I’m happy spending time together as friends. But I meant it when I said I’ll wait as long as you need.”

He pauses, swallows. “But I just wanted to say that you are the single most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You’re perfect, and—”

I sit up, looking directly at him. “Shut up. Just stop talking.”

He stares at me, looking a little shocked, until I grin and lean in, closing the distance between us. The air between us shifts, crackling with energy.

His eyes search mine, wide and surprised. For a second, we just sit there, the tension building, pulling us closer without either of us moving.

Heat radiates off him, the faint scent of his cologne—something warm and familiar, like cedar and the sea—fills thespace between us. His breath hitches, just barely, and I swear I can feel the air thicken between us.

I lean in, my pulse racing, closing the small gap between us. His breath brushes my cheek, warm and steady, just before my lips meet his, and as soon as we touch, it feels like everything falls into place.

Ethan freezes for a split second, but then he responds, his mouth pressing against mine with the same intensity I’m feeling, like he’s been wanting me his entire life. His hand finds its way to my face, cupping my cheek gently, and I lean into his touch, my skin tingling where his thumb grazes my jaw.

The kiss deepens, slowly at first, his lips moving against mine in a way that’s both tender and insistent, like he’s savoring every second.

My hand reaches up, tangling in his dark hair, and I pull him closer, needing more, and his other hand moves to my waist, sliding over my side. There’s strength in his touch, but there’s fire there, too, every nerve ending lighting up as his hands move over my body.

Every brush of his lips, every small movement, sends a spark shooting through me. The kiss shifts, growing more intense, more urgent. His grip on my waist tightens, pulling me closer to him, and I move into him, pressing against him. My hands slide down to his chest, over the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, and heat between us builds, every kiss drawing us deeper into each other.

The kiss is everything—hot, electric, like we’ve both been starving for this. It’s all the things we’ve held back, all the emotions that have been building since I ended things, finally spilling over. His hand slides down my back and my body arches into him.

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