Page 68 of You've Got The Love
“But only if you want me, too,” I add softly. “I can’t be the only one fighting.”
His gaze darkens, the doubt settling in. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know if I can let go of her. You deserve someone who can give you their everything.”
The name doesn’t have to be spoken. It’s there in the air between us—Marieke.
“You won’t hurt me,” I say, firmer now. “But I need you to want this. To want me. Because I want you.”
He swallows, the movement in his throat tight, deliberate. “I want you. I do. But sometimes I wonder if I deserve you.”
That pulls something deep in my chest. I lift my hand to brush hair from his forehead, letting my fingers linger just long enough to make the point.
“You do,” I tell him. “We all have ghosts, Bas. What matters is if we choose to face them.”
His eyes close briefly, and when they open again, there’s a rawness there that makes me want to hold him even tighter.
“I’m afraid, Amber,” he breathes again, quieter now, as though lowering his voice might make the truth hurt less. “Afraid that if I love you, I’ll lose you too. And I don’t know if I can survive that.”
I shift closer until my thigh rests against his, my head finding its place on his shoulder. His scent—sandalwood, smoke, that faint soap he uses—wraps around me, grounding me.
“Then we fight the fear,” I whisper. “Together.”
His arm comes around me slowly, like he’s not sure it’s allowed, but when it settles, it’s solid. I rest my palm against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath my hand.
We stay like that for a while, the fire’s crackle filling the silence.
Later, he tells me a story about something ridiculous Sander once did, and I laugh—not because it’s that funny, but because the sound of it feels like a rebellion against the heaviness of the day. For a few minutes, the wall between us thins.
Then the quiet returns, softer but still present.
I slide my hand into his where it rests on the sofa, my fingers threading through his. I squeeze gently—not demanding anything, not offering empty comfort, just letting him know I’m still here.
He squeezes back, slow but sure.
We don’t have all the answers. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. But tonight, his hand is in mine, and neither of us lets go.
And for now, that’s enough.
Chapter 37
Amber
The following night settles over the cabin like a heavy blanket, pressing in on all sides. The wind snakes through the pines outside, carrying a restless whisper that makes me feel like the forest knows more than it should. The fire’s just a low glow now, the heat not quite enough to push back the chill that’s crept into the room—or into Bas.
He’s right beside me on the worn couch, but it feels like he’s miles away. His arm is still around me, but loose now, not that solid grounding hold he had earlier. I glance up at him in the flickering light. His jaw is tight, eyes shadowed, carrying a weight he hasn’t let me see all the way.
“Bas,” I say softly, breaking the quiet before it swallows me whole. “You’re pulling away again. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
He shifts forward, elbows on his knees, eyes on the floor. His hands are clasped so tightly I can see thestrain in his knuckles. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, like the words scrape on the way out.
“Last night… the dream came back.Marieke. She was there, like she’d never been gone. I could almost touch her.”
I slide my hand into his, feel the tension buzzing under his skin. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, because what else do you say when the ghost of someone’s past love has come to visit them?
He exhales, long and uneven, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s not just missing her. It’s this guilt… it sticks to me, no matter what I do. Every time I close my eyes, it’s like I’m right back there—losing her all over again. And now… I’m terrified that’ll happen with you.”
My chest aches. I squeeze his hand,hard, as if I can press the fear out of him. “You won’t lose me. Not unless you let the fear win.”
His eyes finally find mine, and for a second, I see him—the man who’s both solid and breakable at once. “I want to believe that,” he says, voice quiet. “I’m trying.God, I’m fighting like hell for this… for you. But sometimes it’s like the past gets its hands around my throat and won’t let go.”
