Page 124 of Caden & Theo
His mouth opens, then shuts, his eyes shining in the low light.
I press on, softer now. “Theo, I forgave you a long time ago, and I want you to forgive yourself too. You don’t need to keep bleeding for me. I don’t want that.”
Heavy, fragile silence holds between us. His thumb shifts under mine, the smallest brush of a movement. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. For every year I didn’t call. For hiding and not fighting. For not being strong enough.”
My throat closes around a lump. “Me too. I should’ve reached out. Should’ve told you I still needed you, even when I didn’t know how to trust myself.”
The words burn in me, too long unsaid, and I finally let them out. “And I should’ve told you why I stayed away. I told myself I was protecting you. That if I cut you off, you’d move on, build a life without me dragging you back into the wreckage. I thought leaving you behind was the only way you’d be okay.” I swallow hard, voice low. “But the truth is, I was protecting myself too. I was a coward. And I’m sorry for that. You didn’t deserve it.”
Theo’s gaze sharpens, wet and fierce. His voice is rough when it comes: “You don’t get to decide for me. You don’t get to choose what I can or can’t carry.”
I nod, the weight of it crashing over me. “I know. And I’ll spend however long it takes proving I know that now.”
The air feels electric now, charged with everything we’re finally letting loose. I let the words sit, sink, and then I take a breath. “We can’t undo what happened. But we can decide what comes next.”
Theo swallows hard. “Yeah. That’s the question, isn’t it? What comes next?”
The waiter drifts by, leaving two glasses of water, but neither of us touches them.
Theo leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes dark and intense. “You’re here. Your life’s here. And mine’s in Gomillion. My team. My kids. My… everything except for you.” He laughs, low and bitter, shaking his head. “And all I can think is, how the hell does this work?”
I let out a heavy breath. “It works if we make it work. That’s the only answer I’ve got.”
His mouth pulls tight. “Long-distance.”
“For now,” I say.
He studies me for a long moment. Then he leans back, dragging both hands over his face. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You won’t.” My voice is steady, though my chest feels like it might crack open.
The silence stretches. He’s staring at me like he’s trying to memorize every line of my face. Then, slowly, he says, “I’d give up Gomillion for you.”
The words punch through me like a live current.
He doesn’t stop there, though. “I would. I will. But I think we should give it a year. Let me see this through. The team, the kids. They need me. And we—we need time. Time to figure out the men we are now. To learn each other again. Not just what we want in bed or at a reunion dance. All of it.”
My throat is too tight to speak. I nod once, hard, clutching his hand tighter.
He exhales, shakily but sure. “I’ll spend every school break here. And if you can spare the time, you come out too. We make the distance work until it’s not distance anymore. And then—we decide. Together.”
I let out a laugh that’s half a sob. “God, Theo.”
“What?” His smile is crooked, pained and hopeful at once.
“I’m already in love with you,” I say. “I’ve been in love with you. The idea that I get to fall even harder for you? That’s more than okay with me.”
His eyes soften, unguarded and wide open. He grasps my hand firmly back.
Around us, the restaurant hums quietly as we eat our meal together. Empty tables, low music, the occasional clink ofsilverware. But in our booth, the world has narrowed to this moment, to the fragile, fierce hope that maybe—just maybe—we can rewrite the story we thought was finished.
When we step back into the night, Theo takes my hand again without hesitation. And this time, I don’t just hold it back—I squeeze, hard enough to say,Yes, we’re doing this, all of it.The city moves around us, a blur of cars and people and streetlights, and every step we take feels like a vow.
By the time we reach my house, my chest is tight with everything I can’t say yet. With the relief of his words. With the terror of wanting so much. I fumble the key at the lock because he’s right there, heat at my side, eyes on me like I’m something worth looking at.
Inside, the quiet wraps around us. My house has never felt lonely, but tonight it feels alive. It feels likeours.
Theo presses me gently against the door before I can even set the keys down. His kiss is soft at first, like he knows the weight of the words we left at the table. Then his groans turn low and rough, and the sound deepens. His tongue slides against mine, his hand gripping my jaw, and suddenly there’s nothing gentle about it.
