Page 120 of Off-Limits as Puck

“Safe?”

“Like I don’t have to perform or be perfect or earn the right to be wanted.” She looks up at me. “Like I can just be Chelsea and that’s enough.”

“It’s more than enough. It’s everything.”

She settles back against my chest, and I hold her while she cries out months of loneliness and fear and the overwhelming relief of coming home to someone who sees all your broken pieces andwants them anyway.

“Reed?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for waiting for me to come around.”

“Thank you for coming back to me.”

I kiss the top of her head.

Outside, Boston settles into night around us. Inside, we hold each other like people who’ve found something worth keeping, something worth the cost of getting here.

Tomorrow we’ll figure out logistics—her life in Phoenix, mine in Boston, how to build something real across distance and time zones. Tomorrow we’ll face whatever complications come with choosing each other again.

Tonight, we just hold on and let ourselves believe that love might actually be enough.

That some things are worth fighting for.

That we might finally have learned how to stay.

44

“Chelsea,” he says carefully, “what happens when you go back to Phoenix?”

I was about to fall asleep, but I guess we’re having this conversation right now. Cutting straight to the chase.

“I work. You work. We figure out how to do this across time zones.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“I mean are you going back because you have to, or because you want to?”

The question I could have avoided altogether because the reality of it is too hard to face. Because the answer is complicated, layered with practical considerations and emotional truths I’m not sure I’m ready to examine.

“Both. Neither. I don’t know.”

“But?”

“I have clients who depend on me. A lease. A life I’ve spent months building.”

“You don’t have to choose. We can make this work long-distance.”

“Can we? Really?” I turn to face him fully. “Because my track record with complicated situations isn’t great. I tend to run when things get difficult.”

“So don’t run.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Do you love me?” he asks, and my gut twists at the question.

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