Page 127 of Mending Hearts
That lands harder than I intend it to. I see it in the way his eyes shift.
“I’m not saying that to guilt you,” I add quickly. “I’m saying it because loving you has never been the safe option. That didn’t stop me then, and it’s not stopping me now.”
He exhales slowly, gaze dropping to the mattress between us.
“I left,” he says. “That’s on me.”
“Yes,” I say, because honesty is the only thing that works anymore. “You did.”
His eyes flick back up, bracing for impact.
“But I wasn’t blameless,” I continue, softer now. “I was drinking too much. I was unraveling. I was asking you to carry something you weren’t built to carry at twenty-one. Or even twenty-four. We were kids pretending we were invincible.”
I let out a quiet breath. “Sure, legally we were adults. But the pressure? The secrecy? The constant calculating? That was next-level. Looking back, I don’t think either of us knew how out of our depth we were.”
Ollie studies me like he’s trying to reconcile the version of me he remembers with the one sitting in front of him now.
“And I was so sure we could outrun it,” I add with a faint, self-aware smile. “Turns out hiding and drinking isn’t actually a long-term strategy.”
One corner of his mouth lifts despite himself. “Groundbreaking revelation.”
“I know. Someone gave me a TED Talk.”
That pulls a small laugh from him, and the sound eases the emotion gripping me.
“I don’t need you protecting me from fallout,” I say more gently. “I need you beside me in it.”
He holds my gaze, steady.
“And if a sponsor walks?” I shrug, deliberately casual. “They walk. You survive. And I’ll find some creative, mildly unhinged way to mess with them.”
His brows lift.
“I’m a petty bitch like that,” I add, deadpan.
He snorts—a real one this time—and shakes his head. “You absolutely are.”
“I won’t do anything illegal,” I clarify solemnly. “Probably.”
“Rafe.”
“I’m kidding,” I say, though I’m only half kidding. “Mostly.”
He’s still smiling, though. And that matters.
“You don’t have to go to war for me,” he says.
“Too late,” I reply lightly. “I’ve already started drafting imaginary speeches in my head.”
“Oh God.”
“Don’t worry. They’re very eloquent. Passionate. Slightly terrifying.”
Ollie laughs again, fuller this time, and the heaviness in the room shifts just enough to let us both breathe.
Then his expression softens. “You’re different,” he says quietly.
“I hope so.”
