Page 70 of Surrender
“She said things I can’t even repeat. And I lost it. I said things I can’t take back.”
Gwen nodded faintly, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
“I don’t regret defending you. I never will.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” she whispered.
He stepped toward her. “She’s wrong, Gwen. She’ll see it eventually.”
“She’s your sister.”
“And you’re the woman I love.”
That cracked her. She looked up, eyes wet now, shimmering.
“Having a sibling by your side…” His voice shook. “It’s not always a good thing. Not when it pulls you apart from someone else you love.”
“How can you say that?” she asked, trying not to break. “You and Sophie have always been closer than I don’t know what.”
He closed the distance and gently caught her hands. “Gwen, it’s done. Sophie will come around eventually. We can still be together. She doesn’t own me.” Her hands trembled in his, her body so close he could feel the weight of everything she wasn’t saying. He could feel her slipping away. “Gwen…” His voice turned to pleading. “We’re not what we’ve lost. We’re not what’s been taken from us.”
She finally looked up, heartbreak in every line of her face. “Then what are we?”
He cupped her cheek like it might shatter if he wasn’t careful. “We’re new. We’re what’s next. Don’t surrender to your grief.”
She swallowed hard. “What should I surrender to?”
He kissed her forehead, breathing her in like it might be the last time. “Surrender to me. To this new start.”
She closed her eyes for one suspended beat of silence… and then pulled back.
“Keefe, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No.” Her voice broke. “We have to break up.”
His world tilted. This couldn’t possibly be happening.
“I won’t be the thing that rips you and your sister apart.”
“She’ll come around. She will?—”
“And if she doesn’t?” Gwen asked softly. “Could you live with that? Because I couldn’t.”
He didn’t have an answer. The silence spoke for him.
Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had lied to him once before. She wouldn’t do it again. “I love you,” she said quietly. “That’s why I have to go.”
“No. Gwen, please don’t.”
But she had already turned.
She padded down the hallway toward the bedroom, the soft creak of the floorboards echoing louder than a shout. He followed, heart thundering in his chest, but when he reached the room… it was empty.
Her bag was gone. Her sweater was missing from the back of the chair. The little mug she used every morning still on the bedside table.
He ran to the front door and threw it open.
