Page 111 of Cross Check Hearts

I blink, confusion momentarily dwarfing my concern. “Can’t do what?”

“This.” Her voice is strained as she gestures between with a shaky hand. Ralph, already clearly off-balance by seeing her human so upset, meows softly from where she landed on the floor. “Us. I can’t do us anymore.”

Hannah’s words don’t register at first. They hang in the air, impossible and wrong, like hearing a foreign language that I’m somehow expected to understand. My brain scrambles to make sense of them, to find another interpretation.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my voice eerily steady despite the sudden rush of blood in my ears. My heartbeat pounds so loudly that I’m sure she must be able to hear it, a desperate drumming against my ribs.

“It’ll be better for both of us if we just end this now.” Fresh tears spill down her cheeks, carving shiny paths down her flushed skin, but her jaw is set, determination clear in her features despite her obvious distress. Her fingers twist together in her lap, her knuckles white with tension.

The room seems to tilt sideways, the floor shifting beneath me. I blink, trying to ground myself, to make sense of what’s happening. This morning, everything between us was fine. Better than fine. And now…

“Where is this coming from?” My voice sounds distant to my own ears. I lean forward, trying to bridge the gulf she’s created between us. “Hummingbird, whatever is wrong, we can work through it. Just talk to me. Please.”

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is.” She wraps her arms around herself as if trying to hold something in, fingers digging into her sides. Her gaze drops to the floor, as if she’s unable or unwilling to meet my eyes. “I just can’t.”

“Can’t what?” I move closer, desperation rising inside me. The scent of her jasmine and orange blossom shampoo hits me as I shift, making this surreal conversation even more painful. “I don’t understand. What changed between yesterday and today? Did someone say something to you? Is your dad really that pissed about us dating?”

She shakes her head, her plush lips pressed tightly together as tears cling to her eyelashes. “Nothing changed. This is just… this is just how it has to be.”

“That’s bullshit.” The words escape before I can stop them, my voice sharper than I intended. I shove a hand through my hair, struggling to understand, to find a some kind of steady footing in this conversation that’s rapidly slipping away from me. “Hannah, look at me. Whatever this is about—your dad, school, Aaron—we can handle it together. That’s what couples do.”

“It’s not about any of that.” Her voice is hollow, emptied of the warmth and life that usually fills it. A tear slips down her cheek, but she doesn’t move to wipe it away. “Please, Declan. Just go.”

“No.” The panic surging through my chest is almost enough to choke me, closing my throat and making each breath a struggle. My heart crashes painfully against my ribs like it’s trying to escape, to break out of my body and find a way back to the woman who’s claimed it. “Not until you tell me why. You owe me that much.”

She flinches, sucking in a quiet breath as her shoulders curve inward. Her fingers twist around the hem of her shirt as her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I don’t… I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“What I deserve?” I repeat, shaking my head. I reach for her hand, then stop midway through the gesture when she shrinks back. I freeze, lowering my voice as raw truth pours from my lips. “Hannah, all I want is you. Just you.”

A sob escapes her, soft and broken. It rips through the room like a physical force, the only sound in the eerily quiet space. She presses a hand to her mouth as if trying to force it back in, closing her eyes and taking a shuddering breath. “Don’t say that. Please.”

Something desperate takes over. I slide from the couch, my knees hitting the carpet as I kneel before her. I take her cold hands in mine, feeling the slight tremble in her fingers. Her skin is ice-cold despite the warmth of the apartment, and I wish like hell that I could fix whatever did this to her.

“Please don’t do this.” My voice is a hoarse rasp. “Whatever you’re afraid of, whatever you’re going through—let me help you. Let me be there for you.”

When she tries to pull away, I tighten my grip, clasping her hand between both of mine. “Hannah, please. Talk to me.”

“I can’t,” she whispers brokenly. Tears drip from her chin onto our joined hands. “I’m so sorry, Declan. I’m so sorry.”

The finality in her voice cuts through me like a knife. An awful feeling of numbness begins to spread from my chest outward, as if my body is shutting down in self-defense. I wrap my arms around her waist, burying my face against her lap. Her jeans are soft against my cheek, and I can feel the warmth of her body radiating into mine. Her delicate frame is wracked by silent sobs, but her hands remain still at her sides, not stroking my hair or reaching for me the way they usually would.

“Please,” I whisper against her thigh, my voice hoarse. “Please don’t do this. Whatever it is, we can handle it together.”

For what feels like hours, we remain frozen like that—me clinging to her as she cries silently above me. The only sounds in the room are our ragged breaths and Ralph’s occasional meow from the kitchen doorway, as if the cat senses something irreparably broken.

But gradually, even though I don’t want it to, the reality sinks in. She’s not going to change her mind about this, no matter what I say.

Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

Feeling drained and hollowed out, I finally pull back and push to my feet. My knees ache from kneeling for so long on the hard floor, but the physical discomfort is nothing compared to the emptiness that sits inside my chest, a cavernous space that makes it feel like I’m missing a part of myself.

She won’t meet my eyes, her gaze fixed on something in the middle distance, and I don’t trust my voice to speak without breaking completely.

I walk to the door as if I’m slogging through mud, each step requiring conscious effort. When I grip the doorknob, my hand feels disconnected from the rest of my body, as if I’m watching someone else go through these motions.

At the threshold, I pause, looking back at her small form on the couch. Ralph has returned to her side, pressing against her leg as if trying to comfort her. The sight sends a fresh wave of pain through me. How many nights have I spent here, with Hannah curled against me and Ralph purring on her lap? How could all of that just… end?

I want to say something—that I’ll wait for her, that I won’t give up on what we have, that this isn’t the end for us. But the words die in my throat, stuck behind a lump that makes it painful to swallow. I slip out the door, closing it quietly behind me, although the soft click of the latch hits my ears like a gunshot.

---