“Everything with you seems to be temporary.”
The observation stung because it was true. I'd spent my whole adult life treating everything like it was temporary, never committing to anything long enough for it to hurt when it inevitably ended.
“What do you want, Elias?”
He set his suitcase down by the door, a gesture that suggested he wasn't planning to leave anytime soon. “To tell you the truth.”
“About what?”
“About why I ended things. About what really happened.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in directions that would have been charming if I wasn't so angry. “Victor gave me an ultimatum. Pictures, threats, promises to destroy your reputation if I didn't stay away from you.”
The words hit like a slap, sudden and disorienting. “What kind of pictures?”
“Surveillance photos. You walking around Harbor's End, going into bars, leaving with men. He'd been watching you, documenting everything, building a case against you that he could release whenever he wanted.”
My stomach clenched as the implications sank in. “And you believed him?”
“I believed he could hurt you. And I couldn't let that happen.”
“So you decided to hurt me yourself instead.”
The accusation hung between us, raw and immediate. Because that's what it had felt like, wasn't it? Like he'd taken everything fragile and hopeful that had been building between us and smashed it against the wall just to watch it break.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“From what? From having feelings? From making my own choices about what risks I was willing to take?”
“From being destroyed by people who would use your sexuality and your grief as weapons against you.” His voice was getting rougher, more desperate. “From having your future poisoned by association with someone like me.”
“Someone like you?”
“Someone that deserves you more than I do.”
The self-loathing in his voice was painful to hear, but it didn't excuse what he'd done. “That wasn't your choice to make.”
“I know that now.”
“Do you? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you made the same choice Victor would have made. You decided what was best for me without asking what I wanted.”
He flinched like I'd hit him, but didn't deny it. “You're right.”
“I don't need your protection, Elias. I needed you. I needed someone who would trust me enough to let me make my own mistakes.”
The words came out rougher than I'd intended, scraped raw by a week of trying not to think about what we'd almost had. Because that was the worst part, wasn't it? Not that he'd hurt me, but that he'd thrown away something real because he was too afraid to fight for it.
“I know.”
“Then why didn't you just tell me? Why didn't you trust me enough to handle the truth?”
“Because I was scared.” The admission came out quietly, like he was confessing to a crime. “Because I'd already lost one person I loved, and the thought of losing you too, of watching you be destroyed because of me...”
“So you destroyed us yourself instead.”
“Yes.”
The simple honesty of it took the wind out of my anger, leaving behind something rawer and more painful. Because I could understand the fear, could see the twisted logic that had led him to choose certain pain over uncertain hope.
“I don't know if I can forgive you for that.”