Page 63 of The Grumpy Defenseman
“Yes,” I said.
He nodded once, like he deserved that. Like he needed the truth of it to stay in the room.
“I used it because I was scared,” he said. “Seattle had called. The number was real. The trade was real. Everything I thought I had under control started moving under my feet, and I did what I always do when I can’t find a place for the weight. I made myself colder. Then I aimed it at the person closest to me.”
His eyes held mine.
“That was you.”
I did not look away.
“And it was not your fault,” he said. “You were not the problem. You were never the problem. You saw something good in me and gave it a name, and I took that name and made it hurt because I did not know how to admit I needed you.”
My chest tightened.
He kept going.
No defensive nonsense. No apology version. The truth with both hands.
“I am sorry,” he said. “But I know sorry is not enough. I know you do not owe me comfort because I finally figured out where the wound is. I do not want you to fix me. I do not want you to carry this because I was too late to handle it correctly.”
The room hummed.
HVAC. Iron. The sound of both of us breathing.
“What do you want?” I asked.
His answer came without calculation.
“To be honest with you before I touch you.”
Oh.
That was the sentence.
Not the romantic one. Not the easy one. The one my body had been waiting for before my brain knew how to ask.
I stepped closer.
“Then be honest.”
He drew a slow breath.
“I want you. I want San Antonio. I want a life that does not make me choose between the thing I built and the person who made me realize I had built it too small.” His voice tightened under the strain of saying it. “I do not know what happens with Seattle. I do not know what Walsh does. I do not know whether I can keep all of it. But I know I do not want to lie to you, or push you away, or pretend you are not already in the middle of it.”
The words settled between us.
Heavy.
Costly.
Enough.
Not everything. Not forever. Not a clean answer tied with a ribbon and handed over for my approval.
But enough for this moment.
Enough for me to choose what came next.
