Page 116 of Monochrome Without You
“You worked so hard for this,” Sarge continues, gesturing around the coffee shop. “This dream. You built it from nothing. You made a life for yourself and Tate. And if he’s coming back in… I just need to know you’re okay. That you know what you’re doing.”
I set the rag down, my fingers trembling slightly. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Sarge.” I meet his gaze, unflinching. “But I know I don’t want to make decisions out of fear. I don’t want to keep him away just because I’m scared to get hurt again. And… he’s different now.”
Sarge studies me for a long moment, then nods, though his jaw is tight. “If you say he’s different, I’ll trust you. But Jules…”He leans in, his voice low but firm. “If he hurts you again, I’ll be the one he’ll have to answer to.”
A soft laugh escapes me, but there’s a lump in my throat. “I know.”
“And for what it’s worth,” he adds, softer now, “I get it. I get why you’d want to give him another chance. You’ve always loved him.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, blinking back tears. “I have.”
He reaches over and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Just… don’t forget to protect that heart of yours, okay? It’s a good one. You deserve someone who treats it right.”
I nod, gripping his hand a little tighter. “Thank you.”
He lets me go, straightening with a soft smile. “Come on. Let me make you a cup of coffee. Big brothers get to do that much, right?”
“Yeah,” I say with a watery smile. “I’d like that.”
***
“Sarge stopped by,” I say quietly into the phone as I curl deeper into bed, still wrapped up in Corbin’s flannel like it’s armor.
Corbin’s voice softens on the other end. “How did that go?”
I sink farther under the covers, tucking the phone close to my ear as though it might close the distance between us. “He’s worried,” I admit, my fingers absently brushing over the worn fabric at the sleeve.
“About us?” Corbin asks, his tone careful.
“You. More specifically,” I whisper.
There’s a long sigh on his end. “Maybe we should just tell Tate.”
My heart skips, my pulse picking up speed. “I don’t know…” I hesitate. “Do you think this is… do you think we’re really doing this? I mean—us?”
Corbin is quiet for a beat before answering, steady and sure. “Sarge knows, Jules. And if he knows, what happens if he lets it slip around Tate? I don’t want our son hearing it from anyone but us.”
I chew on my lower lip, conflicted. “I didn’t tell him,” I say softly. “He figured it out… I was wearing your shirt and he justknew.”
“I’m not mad about that,” Corbin rushes to reassure me, his voice gentle. “I just think maybe Tate should’ve been the first one to know. He deserves that much.”
I close my eyes, sighing as the weight of it all presses on my chest. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I just—” I swallow. “Can I sleep on it? I want to be sure… before we say anything.”
“Yeah,” Corbin says softly, though I hear the weariness in his voice. He yawns, and I smile despite myself.
“You’re exhausted,” I murmur.
“I’m fine,” he lies. Badly.
“How long has Tate been asleep?” I ask, mostly to keep him on the line a little longer, needing the sound of his voice.
“About an hour now,” he says, another yawn stretching the words.
“You need to get some sleep.”
“Not if it means getting off the phone with you,” he murmurs, and my heart aches in that sweet, sharp way it always does when he says things like that.
“I’ll call you in the morning when I get up?” I offer gently, though neither of us seems quite ready to hang up.
