Page 198 of Catch Me
He flinched, but his eyes stayed on mine. “Does it?”
“Of course. I know I’ve said it already, but you ran, Roman. You fucking ran, and I—” I stopped and looked away. “I can’t shake this fear that you’ll do that again.”
He didn’t say anything for a second. He just sat there, keeping his hands flat on the table like he was bracing himself. “I won’t. I swear I won’t.”
“You swore a lot of things,” I shot back, sharper than I intended. His face crumpled, just for a second, and guilt twisted in my gut. But I didn’t take it back.
The food came then, breaking the silence. We both started eating like we were pretending this was normal. I stabbed at the noodles, even though my appetite was gone, while he cut into his meat like he could find some sort of answers inside.
He set his fork down after a bite. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I know I fucked up. I just... I need you to see I’m trying.”
“I do,” I admitted, hating how small it sounded. “But trying’s not enough if you—” I stopped, shoving a forkful of pasta in my mouth to shut myself up.
“If I what?” His eyes were wide, searching, and it made me want to look away.
“If you break me again,” I said, barely above a whisper. I didn’t mean to say it, didn’t want him to know how deep that cut went. But there it was, hanging between us, raw and ugly.
He froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, then set it down again. “Travis, I’d rather die than do that to you.”
I laughed humorlessly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’m not.” He reached across the table, his hand hovering over mine, then pulled back when I didn’t move. “Not this time. Believe me. If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t be doing this.”
Thinking about my dad’s story, I wondered if one of them had felt this level of despair at some point. When he came to pick her up every day, did it piss her off? Did she want to scream at him but also want to run into his arms? I couldn’t imagine that, but I could hear the wound in my dad’s voice even when he’d told it to me.
“What do you want?” I asked.
His expression was firm, his resolve seemingly unwavering. “I’m here. I’m staying. You can hate me, yell at me, whatever. Just don’t shut me out.”
I stared at his hand, then up at his face. He looked wrecked. His eyes glistened, like he was one word away from falling apart. And fuck, it got to me. It always did.
“I don’t hate you,” I said. “That’s the problem. It has been this whole time.”
His breath hitched, and he nodded, like that was enough for now. Maybe it was. We ate in silence after that, and I wondered what would come next.
When the check came, I grabbed it before he could. “I got it.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I invited you, remember?” I met his eyes, holding them. “Let me.”
He nodded, even though he looked uncertain. We walked out together, the night air cool against my skin as I looked up at the clouds. The fairy lights glowed above us, and I caught him glancing at them, then at me.
“What?” I asked, keeping my hands in my pockets.
“Nothing,” he said, but his voice was contemplative, like he’d thought of drawing it. “Just... thanks.”
“For what?”
“Not walking away.”
I stopped, looking at him—really looking. The way his hair fell in soft waves and his shoulders hunched like he was waiting for me to flee. And I realized I didn’t want to. Not tonight.
I started to walk again. “It’s still a work in progress.”
He fell into step beside me, close enough that our arms brushed. “Good. As long as there’s progress, I guess I can breathe.”
Under the stars and the fairy lights, I let myself take his hand, and I threaded our fingers. It was as if that simple touch created a world of magic that complimented the scenery around us.
