Page 88 of When We Are Complete

Snow piles against our legs as we trudge forward, the frigid air biting through my gloves, my coat. I pull her close, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. Snow stings my eyes, freezing against my lashes, and I blink it away, focusing on the rough outline of the lighthouse.

Finally, we make it. The door to the lighthouse is locked, but I throw my shoulder into it, and then again. It takes a few tries, but finally, with a heavy crack, it gives, and we stumbleinside, leaving the howling storm outside as I slam it shut again, pushing a metal rubbish bin up against it to keep it closed.

We stand there, catching our breath, snow melting off us in puddles of wet slush. I take her hand again, and without a word, we start up the stairs, the narrow steps creaking. She’s quiet, her shoulders hunched, still shivering.

When we reach the top, I push open the door and we step into the small lantern room, the glass windows giving a 360-degree view of the storm raging outside. Snow whirls, hammering against the glass, rattling it, but here, we’re cocooned, safe from the elements.

I turn to look at her, searching her face. She’s staring out at the storm, her expression caught between shock at the intensity of it all and exhaustion. She’s shivering, holding her arms around herself.

“Here,” I say, setting down my EDC bag and taking one of the blankets. I shake off the snow and help her remove her jacket and gloves, before draping it around her shoulders, wrapping it snugly before guiding her to sit on the floor, where I’ve spread a second blanket. “Let me take care of you, then we can talk.”

I reach into the bag, pulling out a few more essentials. A small emergency thermal blanket and some hand warmers. I kneel in front of her, shaking the hand warmers before slipping them into her palms, then tucking the thermal blanket around her shoulders over the other blanket. “Squeeze these. They’ll help get your circulation going.”

She wraps her hands around them, giving me a small look of gratitude, but she’s still shivering. I shed my own wet jacket and sit beside her on the floor under the blankets, pulling her close, tucking her firmly into my side, sharing my body heat.

Without a word, I rub her arms through the blanket, and she slowly relaxes as I try to chase away the cold. “You don’t have to be so strong right now. Just breathe, and let yourself rest.”

She leans into me, letting out a soft, shuddering breath. It’s a win just having her here, letting her finally accept the comfort I’m trying to give, but that doesn’t mean everything between us is okay. It’s her heart, her fears—the things she’s holding back—that I need to reach.

The storm rages around us as my focus narrows. All I can hear is the sound of Kelly’s breathing, her body pressed to mine.

I swallow. “Are you doing a little better?”

“I am. God, I’m so stupid. Thank you for coming for me.”

“I’ll never not be there for you,” I reply. Silence stretches between us, and I glance down at her face. Even with snow-chapped skin, she’s still the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Look, I need you to know that maybe I’ll never be that guy who knows exactly how to make things better. The right thing to say. But I do know this—” I pause, pulling her gaze to mine, holding it. “I love you. I always have, ever since we were teenagers.”

She looks away and shifts slightly, putting that careful space between us. “I appreciate you coming back for me. I do. But I just can’t be with you right now. I’m literally falling apart, and you don’tget itbecause you’re just not built that way. Youneverfall apart.”

She’s got herself turned slightly away from me. She’s already putting up walls, bracing for my reaction. Out of nowhere, a memory crashes into me—my mother, standing at the kitchen sink, shoulders slumped, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter as my dad walked away from her, leaving her tears unanswered, her pain ignored.

I was just a kid, but that look on her face, the silence after he left, I’ve never forgotten it.

For so long I’ve thought being there meant fixing things, giving the people I love stability, being the steady provider. Butwith my new found realization, I know none of that is what she needs. I see it, as clear as if someone ripped off a blindfold.

I clear my throat, my voice rough. “I’ve spent so much of my life believing that the only thing that mattered was how well I could provide. Growing up, we didn’t have much. My dad worked himself to the bone, but it was never enough. The bills kept coming, piling up, and after that storm wrecked our house, we were drowning. I remember thinking that if I could be what he wasn’t, if I could keep everyone safe and secure, maybe things would be different. Maybe I would be different.”

My voice wavers, but I push forward, needing her to hear it all. “I tied my worth to that. To being the guy who fixes things, who keeps everyone from falling apart. And I thought that was what I was doing for you too. But now I see that’s not what you needed. Not really. And I should have known that. I should have listened.”

Her face softens, her gaze flicking up to meet mine. For a second, there’s something in her eyes, a quiet understanding, maybe.

I push on, the words pouring out, raw and honest. “I may not be built that way right now, Kelly. I may not be the guy who’s great at sitting with pain and messy emotions. But I want to try. I want to be the man who’s not just there for the good stuff, who doesn’t just patch up the rough spots and move on. I want to be the man who stays, who’s there beside you for all of it—even the hard, painful parts.”

My voice grows thick, but I don’t hold back. Ineedher to understand. “You’re worth it, Kelly. No matter what you might think, you’re wortheverything. I love you, and I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be. And if you need me to just listen, to sit with you in whatever you’re feeling about the festival, I’ll do that.”

She’s silent, her eyes locked on mine. And there’s something there. She’s seeing me in a way she never has before. Her lips part slightly, but no words come, and the silence stretches out between us, filled with a quiet that is as heavy as the truth we’re finally facing.

Snow pelts the windows, the wind howling outside, but here, in this space between us, there’s a stillness that’s almost sacred. I reach out and take her hand, and she lets me.

Chapter 51

Kelly

The storm rages outside,the wind howling and battering the glass, a dark, relentless force pressing against the walls of the lighthouse. But here, beside Jake, with his hand wrapped around mine, there’s a quiet—a fragile, impossible quiet that somehow cuts through the blizzard.

I stare down at our intertwined fingers, at his warmth, steady and solid. His words echo in my mind, prying open walls I’ve held up for so long. But the fear, that awful, gnawing fear, keeps clawing back.

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