Page 176 of Seven Lost Summers
“I remembered her every day,” I murmur against her skin, “but I should’ve thought about you too. You mattered, Quinn. You always did.”
When I lift my head, her eyes are glassy, and I know it’s not enough to fix the years we lost, but perhaps this is a start.
My mouth’s dry. I want to crack a joke, turn the moment into something stupid and harmless, but pressure builds in my chest and won’t let me go. It’s sitting there like a fist, squeezing tighter every second, and I know if I don’t speak now the words will choke me.
I drag in a breath that doesn’t do shit to steady me. She stands in front of me, eyes seeing more than I ever want anyone to see. I’ve spent years perfecting the art of being untouchable—loud, reckless, always moving, making jokes before anyone can get close enough to spot the cracks. And somehow, Quinn has always been the one staring straight into them, as if they’re the only parts of me worth looking at.
My fingers twitch on her wrist. I want to grab her, pull her in and hold her, anything to close this distance. But I don’t. Not yet.
“I’ve told a girl I loved her before.” I swallow hard. “Bianca. With her it was easy. The words fell out of my mouth without thought, as if they’d been waiting the whole time for me to catch up and finally say them.”
I glance away for a second because looking at her is too much. She’s got a stillness about her now.
“With you…” I take a breath before lifting my gaze back to hers. “This is different. Harder. Not because I don’t already know it’s there—fuck, I do. The weight is real. And it’s because I know what comes after.”
The memories come quick and sharp. The funeral flowers, Nate’s silence, the way music stopped sounding like music. The kind of ache you don’t walk away from.
“I hate that you went through the worst alone,” I tell her. My voice drops, emotion edging every word, but I push through. “I hate that I let you. That I wasn’t beside you when the grief cracked you open and turned you quieter. You’re not the same Quinn I used to know. But under all that…” I take a step closer. “…you’re still you. The girl who called me out on my shit without blinking. The one who could make Bianca laugh so hard her muscles ached for days. The one who made me believe I wasn’t some walking mistake.”
Her throat works like she’s swallowing something down, but she doesn’t say a word.
“And I love you for that,” I go on, because if I stop now, I’ll never start again. “God, I fucking love you for that, Quinn.”
The silence that follows is thick enough to touch.
I reach up and cup the side of her face. My pulse roars in my ears.
“I’ve tried to be the guy who never says those words again,” I admit, voice low, rough. “The guy who keeps things light, stays loud, stays sarcastic. The one always cracking a joke before anyone can spot the cracks. Because if I hand you this part of me, there’s no taking it back.
Her eyes drop for a moment and then glance back up.
“I have no fucking idea how to do this,” I confess. “I don’t know how to stand here and not hide. But every time you look at me, I feel it. The way you see me. The way you don’t flinch at the fucking mess I am. I’ve been a hurricane my whole life, Quinn, and you…” My throat chokes up, but I force the words out. “You were one of the few who ever walked straight into the storm instead of running.”
Her eyes soften, but that doesn’t make standing here with my chest cracked open any easier.
“You’ve got to understand something,” I say, my voice low, the words spilling before I can catch them. “Every joke, every smart-ass line—they’ve all been armour, and you already know that. My way of keeping the world from touching what matters. But you…”
I swallow hard, my thumb brushing her cheekbone as if letting go would erase her from the moment. “You’ve been slipping past my walls since the first time we talked at those parties. And I’ve fought against this, Quinn. Christ, I’ve resisted with everything in me, because loving someone this much is terrifying. It means standing here stripped down to the bone and praying you don’t turn away.”
My grip on her wrist tightens, slightly. “But if you asked me right now to be that guy—the one who risks everything for you—I’d do it without hesitation. Because I love you in the way storms love the sea. Wild. Relentless. The kind that doesn’t end because the world tells it to.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her skin until I can feel the shiver run through her. She’s caught in the same undertow that’s been dragging me under for months.
“I fucking love you, Quinn,” I whisper, barely more than breath, but every syllable wrecked and real. “Not the version I show the world. Not the one who makes people laugh to keep them from seeing too much. You’ve got the version no one ever sees. The one who doesn’t hide when everything hurts.”
I shift closer, until no air remains between us.
“I’m yours,” I say. “Every fucked-up, broken part of me. If you want me… I’m already yours.”
She lifts her hand, resting her palm over my chest. I don’t pull back. I let her touch the pieces I’ve spent years pretending didn’t exist.
“You think you’ve been hiding,” she says softly, voice brushing against the cracks in me, “but I’ve seen you since day one.”
The ground turns unsteady, but she’s still holding me.
“You mean everything to me, Theo. You always have. And I’ve watched how your jokes light up everyone’s world even when you’re hurting. You make people laugh like it costs you nothing, but I understand it costs you everything. And still, you hold space for everyone else when no one ever did for you.”
Her thumb drags over my chest, right where the beat of my heart stutters beneath her palm.
