Page 46 of Kylan

Was this over?

“Leon,” I tried, fighting my own tears. “Say something.”

He looked at me, defeated, and shook his head.

Kylan sobbed, turned, and ran.

And we did nothing to stop him.

He was just gone. The front door slamming behind him a loud and heartbreaking goodbye.

“Leon,” I whispered, tears spilling down my cheek. “What the fucking hell?”

He closed his eyes slowly, his face a mask of sadness. “Marek, I think we need to talk.”

I wasn’tready for that.

I wasn’t prepared for Leon’s words. To think, for one moment, since the day I’d met him that I might ever doubt our love.

I felt cold and clammy, wooden and heavy.

“What?” I managed, merely a breath. “What do you mean?”

“We need to talk,” he said again, tone flat.

Defeated.

“About us,” he went on. “About this. About him. About... us.”

He looked up at me then and tears welled in his eyes.

My insides felt wrong.

Twisted and strung too tight, hot and burning, cold as ice.

“Leon?”

He held out his hand for me, and I took it. I always would. It was habit, instinct.

“What are you about to tell me?” I murmured. “Because that”—I gestured to where Kylan had stood—“was terrible and awful, and my heart is breaking, but Leon, you’re scaring me.”

I didn’t realise how much I was trembling until he took my hand.

“I love you,” he said. “I always have. I always will. From the moment I laid eyes upon you. The day you said yes to marrying me was the happiest day of my life, second only to the day you said, ‘I do.’”

I couldn’t stop the tears. “I love you too.”

“But . . .”

“But what?”

“But this isn’t working.”

I sobbed and pulled my hand free. “What?”

He snatched my hand back. “Not us, Marek. I mean with him. It was different with him from day one and we both knew it. He was...” Leon’s chin wobbled and he sniffled. “I think we should let him go.”

I shook my head.

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