Page 37 of Thawed Gladiator: Quintus
beautiful, gone too fast.
Now I practice letting go,
holding nothing I can’t keep.”
The song is about me. About us. About the choice I made to walk away from something that could have been beautiful.
Tears stream down my face as I watch him through the gap between buildings. Seated on a crate, he tilts his face toward the stars, moonlight silvering his hair.
He’s not angry. He’s heartbroken.
And he’s letting me go because he thinks that’s what I need. Not because he stopped caring, but because he cares enough to respect my choice even when it’s destroying him.
The song continues, each verse more devastating than the last:
Love is not a prison wall,
it should be a field to roam.
I would give her space to breathe,
not chain her here to call it home.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but stand there crying while he sings about sacrificing his own happiness for mine. While he practices letting go of something we both want, because I believe it’s what’s best for me.
This man. He’s an incredible, self-sacrificing, beautiful man who would rather suffer in silence than make me feel guilty for my choice.
I was wrong. About everything. About him, about us, about what love is supposed to look like.
Scott’s version of love was control. Possession. But this—this is love that enhances instead of diminishes.
The song ends, and silence settles like a blanket. He sits perfectly still, lost in echoes.
I step out from behind the storage building.
“I heard your song.”
He startles, shock and maybe hope in his eyes. “Nicole.”
“I can’t let you let me go. I can’t watch you let me go when all I want is to hold on.”
He rises slowly. “You made your choice clear. I am respecting it.”
“I was wrong.” Another step closer. “About everything. About us. About what I’m strong enough to handle.”
His eyes search my face. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t want to protect myself anymore if it means losing you. I need you, Quintus. Although I don’t know what the future looks like, I know I want you in it.”
The words taste like freedom on my tongue, like I’m finally admitting what I’ve known for days—that walking away from him was the biggest mistake of my life.
Something in his posture tightens—not desire, but caution. He wants to believe me; I can see it in his eyes, but uncertainty shadows his voice.
“Nicole…” he says carefully.
“I know,” I rush out, seeing hesitation shadow his expression. “I know I hurt you. I can’t just expect you to—”
“It isn’t that simple.” His voice is careful, almost fragile. “My heart wants to say yes, but my mind remembers how easily you walked away when fear took hold.”
