Page 119 of Across the Boards

“No!” The vehemence of her denial is reassuring. “That’s not... I do want this. Us. But not at the cost of destroying your life.”

“The only thing that would destroy my life is watching you leave because you think it’s protecting me,” I say simply. “I’m a grown man, Elliot. I can fight my own battles. And this one—us, what we’re building together—is worth fighting for.”

Her resolve is wavering; I can see it in the slight trembling of her lips, the uncertainty in her eyes. But she’s stubborn, my Elliot, and pride won’t let her concede so easily.

“I need time to think,” she says finally. “This isn’t a decision I can make impulsively.”

“Of course not,” I agree, relief flooding through me at even this small victory. “That would be very out of character for you. Take all the time you need. But promise me something?”

“What?”

“Don’t make any more decisions based on fear. Or on what you think is best for me without actually asking me.” I squeeze her hand gently. “We’re supposed to be partners in this. That means facing problems together, not you sacrificing yourself for some misguided idea of protecting me.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, then nods slowly. “I promise to think about it. Really think, not just react.”

It’s not a complete victory, not a promise to stay or to choose me over Seattle. But it’s something—a crack in the wall of certainty she’d built around her decision, a willingness to reconsider.

“That’s all I ask,” I say, then add, unable to help myself, “Well, that and maybe a kiss? I’ve missed you.”

A small smile finally breaks through her serious expression. “Pushing your luck, Carter.”

“Always.” I grin, feeling hope resurge. “Is it working?”

Instead of answering, she rises on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine—a brief kiss, but one that conveys more than words could. When she pulls back, some of the strained tension has left her face.

“I should go,” I say reluctantly. “Give you that thinking time. But Elliot? Whatever you decide, about the job or us or anything else, I’m not giving up. Not on you, not on us. Just so we’re clear.”

“I understand,” she says, and though her expression is still conflicted, there’s a warmth in her eyes that wasn’t there when I arrived. “Goodnight, Brody.”

“Goodnight, Elliot.”

As I walk back to my own townhouse, I feel simultaneously exhausted and energized. The battle isn’t won—Elliot is still considering the Seattle job, still worried about Jason’s threats—but I’ve given her something to think about, planted seeds of doubt in her certainty that leaving is the answer.

And for now, that will have to be enough.

28

ELLIOT

Decisions should be made with clear heads, not racing hearts.

This has been my mantra since childhood—a guiding principle that served me well through college, career choices, and eventually, the aftermath of my divorce. Emotions cloud judgment. Logic illuminates the path forward.

So why, after three days of meticulous pro-con lists, rational analysis, and careful consideration, does the “logical” decision to take the Seattle job feel so devastatingly wrong?

I stare at the unsigned contract sitting on my kitchen counter, Catherine Porter’s business card beside it. The offer is exceptional—higher salary, creative control, respected company. Seattle is beautiful—temperate climate, vibrant culture. The smart choice is obvious.

Yet here I am at 2 AM, unable to sleep, heart and mind at war.

My phone buzzes with a text. Brody, of course. Who else would text at this hour?

I know you’re still up. Overthinking. Making lists. Second-guessing. Just remember: some decisions can’t be made purely with logic. Some require listening to your heart too.

How does he know me so well after such a short time? It’s unsettling. Comforting. Terrifying.

Go to sleep, Carter. You have practice in the morning.

So do you. Practice choosing happiness over fear.

---