Page 220 of Sage Haven
Desperate and disbelieving.
I shook my head, slow at first, then faster, as if motion alone could erase the moment. "You can’t just push me away. Reich."
Reich dragged a hand through his hair, pacing like a man at war with himself.
Like someone who’d already lost. "My carelessness led to this—twice now," he ground out. His voice was rough. Strained. "If it happens again…" He trailed off, his breath hitching before he forced the rest of it out. "I won’t let it happen again. That’s why you need to leave."
"So that’s it?" The words cracked in my throat, hollow and small. "You’re just throwing me away?"
He said nothing and that silence was worse than any answer he could’ve given me.
Fury surged, wild and hot but that heartbreak bled through it, turning everything jagged and raw.
I surged forward, shoving him.
Slamming my fists against his chest like I could break through the wall he was building between us.
"Say something!" I demanded, voice splintering. "Feel something! Anything!"
He absorbed every hit. Every broken plea.
But he didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t break.
Only I did.
"Tell me it wasn’t real," I begged. The words scraped against my throat, painful, "Tell me. So, I can walk away."
His hands clenched at his sides. His breath came too fast, too shallow. He was unraveling.
And still, I was sure he wouldn’t say it. Wouldn’t give me the lie I needed to let go.
"Sage—"
"Tell me!" I choked. "Say it didn’t matter! That I didn’t matter!"
And then— A whisper. Wrecked and raw came from his lips, "I can’t."
The words shattered me. My knees buckled. Tears burned hot trails down my face, blurring everything until he was just a smear of color in front of me.
"You know what?" My voice broke open like a wound. "Fuck you, Reich." It came out like a sob. A battle cry. "Fuck you for putting me back together just to break me all over again."
His walls trembled and I saw it: The fracture in his mask he wore so pristinely.
But it wasn’t enough.
They didn’t fall and neither did he.
"I’m practically Hell’s gatekeeper," he said hoarsely. "One day, I won’t come back. I’ll be dragged under. Six feet down. And you’ll be left wondering if you were the reason." His voice cracked, deep and hollow. "Or worse, you’ll end up right there with me."
He lifted his eyes to mine, and for the first time, I saw it—the rawness. The fear. The man behind the monster.
"Is that the life you want?" he asked. "A life of worry and fear?"
"Yes." I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t flinch.
His head snapped up at the word, something breaking behind his gaze.
"Yes," I said again, louder this time. "If it means a life with you, then yes. I accept."
