Page 101 of Through the Storm

That’s the thing. Idoknow. He’s not trying to control me. He’s not panicking. He’s just… showing up. Fully. Earnestly. Like he always does. HeknowsI like plans.

But I can’t let him do this anymore.

“I’ve been thinking,” I continue, choosing my words carefully. “About us.”

Something shifts in his posture. He straightens slightly, his attention sharpening.

“Okay,” he says.

“I think we need to slow down.”

The silence that follows is immediate and heavy.

“Slow down?” he repeats.

“Yes.” I rush the words. “Just… take a step back. Create some space.”

His mouth opens, then closes. “What?”

“I rushed into this. We both did. And I don’t want you making choices out of obligation.”

“I’m not,” he says, a little firmer now.

“I know you think that. But you’re entering the draft next year, Ben. Your life is about to change. You shouldn’t be rearranging everything because of me.”

His eyes darken. “I’m not rearranging my life. I’m including you in it.”

The words almost break me.

Almost.

“I don’t want to be the reason you compromise. Or miss out. Or feel stuck.”

“I don’t feel stuck,” he says. “I feel?—”

“Please,” I interrupt quietly.

That stops him.

He looks at me for a long moment. Something moves across his face—not anger, not hurt yet, just a searching patience, like he’s trying to find the real sentence underneath the one I just said.

I step closer, lowering my voice. “I need to do this on my own.”

The sentence hangs between us, sharp and final. He stares at me like I’ve just spoken a language he doesn’t understand.

“On your own,” he repeats.

“Yes.”

“What does that even mean?” he asks. “Because I don’t want you to be on your own. I want to do this with you.”

I swallow. “I don’t think you should.”

The hurt flashes across his face before he can stop it. Quick. Raw. Gone just as fast.

“Katy,” he says slowly, “what is this really about? Because a week ago you were fine, and now you’re—” He stops, running a hand through his hair. “Talk to me. Tell me what actually happened.”

And for one terrible second, I almost do.