Page 82 of When We Are Falling

A look of disbelief crosses her beautiful face. “Here I was thinking you apologized and meant it.”

“I did mean it! I’m sorry I hurt you. I’d never intentionally doanythingto hurt you.”

“So why are you trying to stop me from helping this woman?”

“Iwantyou to help her. Just let me come, too. I’ll sit in the car, and won't show my face at all. At least then if things turn bad, I’ll be there.” Could I be any more reasonable? Surely she can see this is the smart answer.

“You already told me you’re going to respect my boundaries, but clearly you’re incapable of that. You’re not coming—end of story. I can take care of myself.” Her gaze hardens. “Just to be clear, this is my decision, and I’m not going to back out of helping this woman just because you’re worried and being a control freak.”

The words hit me right in the chest—am I not fighting for her hard enough? Can she not see this isn’t about control, I just want to keep her safe?

I lean forward over my empty plate, shrinking the space between us further, willing her to listen and really understand: “I am worried, yes, but it’s only because I care about you morethan anything. I’ve never felt this way before, and the thought of something happening to you—especially when I could have stopped it—makes me crazy. I can’t just sit by and watch you put yourself at risk over and over.”

She crosses her arms, eyes narrowing as she looks at me. “You’re not my keeper. You can’t protect me from everything, and you definitely can’t control me.”

I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my emotions, but the words spill out before I can stop them. “This isn’t about control! I’ve thought non-stop about what happened on the boardwalk. What if David tries to hurt you and I’m not around to save you? I can’t let that happen. You need to stop seeing him. And you need to stop putting yourself in risky situations.”

She pushes her chair back, standing. “You say this isn’t about control, and then you give me an ultimatum! That’s not how real relationships work. I’ve been given ultimatums my whole life. Do this, or else. Be this, or else. You’re literally making my stomach turn—you have no idea the times I’ve had to fight just to be myself, to live on my own terms.”

Suddenly I’m standing too. “You’re talking about how real relationships work. Well, real relationshipstakework! But you seem unwilling or incapable of seeing that. Before I met you, I was afraid of being in a serious relationship. I watched my parents tear each other apart, and I swore I’d never let that happen to me. Relationships bring out the worst in people. But you’re different. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel this way. And I can’t lose you because you’re too stubborn to keep yourself safe! Too focused on being independent to compromise!”

Her gaze takes on a wild glint and it’s like she’s not even hearing me, like we’re speaking different languages. “You’ll never be in a serious relationship if you keep trying to controlthe people you’re with. I won’t let you dictate my life, Ethan. I won’t!”

We lock eyes, the emotions between us rising to a crescendo, a gathering storm. Her green eyes burn, our conflicting needs tearing us apart, the lines between love and anger blurring in the charged atmosphere.

My body tenses and heat radiates from her, filling the space between us. It’s a moment where anything can happen, the room suddenly too small, a pressure-cooker about to explode, and our silence is at once deafening and far, far too quiet.

The seconds stretch endlessly, neither of us wanting to back down or give in. But then, something shifts in her eyes—a flicker of doubt, of pain, and it hits me. What if this is the point in time where everything breaks beyond repair?

Then she gives voice to every worry coursing through me: “What are we doing? I can’t keep doing this. Fighting like this.”

Her words slice through everything else like a knife. For a moment, I’m frozen, the reality of what she’s saying hitting me hard. The fear of losing her—of this being the moment where everything unravels—comes roaring to the surface, raw and unrelenting, crashing over the anger, drowning it out.

The thought of her walking out that door and never coming back is too much. I can’t let that happen. I walk around the table, the wrap of my arms holding her like if I let go I’m going to lose her forever.

She stiffens, turning her head to the side.

“Blake, please.”

She finally turns to look at me, her eyes green and perfect like new growth in spring.

We stand there, inches apart, the air between us thick with everything we’re not saying. Her eyes search mine, and for a brief second, I see the same fear that’s clawing at me: she loves me, she does, and she doesn’t want to lose me.

Everything twists, morphing into something fierce, something desperate.

Cupping her face in my hands, I kiss her hard, pouring every ounce of my love into it. My lips press against hers, trying to remind her that this isus, that we’re stronger together, that we don’t have to break.

At first, she stays stiff, unyielding, her body a wall of resistance against mine, but then something shifts. It’s like a dam breaking, all the emotions she’s been holding back crashing over us both.

She starts kissing me back, but it’s not a surrender, just a fierce, desperate need to feel something other than the anger roiling between us. The kiss deepens, her hands clutching at my shirt like I’m the only thing keeping her afloat, but the truth is, I think we’re both being pulled under.

Her nails dig into my skin, the sting of it only fueling the fire between us. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a fight, a desperate battle to keep hold of something we’re both terrified of losing.

At this moment, nothing else exists. Just her, just us, and this fierce, raw passion that could burn the whole world down. All I can think about is making herfeelhow much I need her, how much I love her. Even if everything is falling apart around us, right here, at this moment, I’m not letting go.

My hands roam over her body, desperate to memorize every inch of her, while she grabs hold of me like she needs me, too. My hand moves over the hard pebbles of her nipples, fingers teasing, pinching, and she moans, then to the button of her jeans, fumbling with it until it finally gives way. Yanking them down, along with her panties, revealing her bare flesh to my starving gaze.

She kicks off her jeans then gasps as I shove her plate away and lift her onto the table, before working at my belt, my jeans pooling at my feet. My cock springs free, throbbing, aching forrelease. I reach down, fingers exploring her folds and finding them slick and wet.

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