Page 119 of Dark Knight

My footsteps are sharp against the floor, and my heart — I’m amazed it hasn’t burst from my chest yet. Callum didn’t exactly give his blessing, but he didn’t threaten to rip my hands off, either. That’s as good as it’s going to get.

His daughter, on the other hand? The jury’s still out.

But the other barriers have fallen. What he said broke through the doubt I’ve carried for so long. Too long. It was one thing to get a lecture from Becky – and all the lectures I received from Tatum as well about being open to life and all that shit. But it was Callum who brought the point home. He put everything in focus.

The way I’m living right now isn’t a life. If there’s one thing being with Tatum taught me, it’s that I want more.

It’s no surprise her door is locked when I reach it. “Tatum. Open up. I need to talk to you.”

“Get away from that door.”

At least she’s talking to me. “Not until I say a few things.”

“Do you think I give a shit about anything you have to say now?” Her voice gets louder. She’s walking toward the door. “You had your chance.”

“I fucked up. I know I did.”

“Finally. You’re right about something.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgive me, but I wish you would. I’ve already wasted enough time telling myself we couldn’t be together. I don’t want to waste another minute of my life without you. Please open the door so we can talk.”

“What, Dad gave you permission? Did your master tell you it was allowed?”

I deserve that. Fuck, I’ve made so many mistakes. “It doesn’t have to do with him. It has to do with us. Open the goddamn door before I kick it down.”

“Oh. I’m so scared.” Still, the lock clicks. She doesn’t open it, though – she’ll oblige me, but only so much.

Right now, I’ll take whatever I can get. I ease the door open and am greeted by the sight of her packing. It seems random how she’s tossing items into boxes and bags.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“What does it look like? Knitting a sweater, obviously.” She has her back to me, but I notice the hand she drags under her eyes.

“Could you stop for a second so we can talk?”

“Why can’t you talk while I’m doing this? You might as well save your breath, anyway. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say tonight.”

“You’ve always been braver than me.”

She snorts before throwing a cold look my way. “Wow. Was that supposed to make me fall into your arms?”

“It’s a fact. You’re braver than I am. You walk straight into things. You make a decision, then you go for it. You had the balls to stand up to your father and tell him you… love me.”

She snorts. “Yeah. Not exactly sure what I was thinking with that one.”

“You were lying?”

She slows and finally comes to a stop, her head hanging low. “I almost wish I was.”

“I deserve that.”

She whirls on me, teeth bared, and for a second we’re back where we started. With her at my throat, ready to draw blood. “You’re goddamn right, you do. And you’re right about being a fucking coward, too. You’re afraid to feel things. You’re afraid to live.”

“I might have been,” I admit. It’s not easy to say, but pride is useless at a time like this. Look where it’s gotten me so far. “But I’m trying. And for what it’s worth – though you might think you hate me right now – I love you. I do love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I even knew I did.”

She lifts her chin, and I see the fresh tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s pretty convenient, figuring it out now.”

“You’re saying it doesn’t matter?”

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