Page 72 of You've Got The Love
I never got to say goodbye.
And now here I am, looking at Amber across the room and knowing I’m on the edge of another split.
She doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve to sit in a cabin waiting for boots in the snow to come back. She doesn’t deserve the constant risk of loving someone who’s already lost this much—because I know, deep down, if I lose her too, I’ll break in a way I can’t be put back together.
I stand up because sitting still makes my chest feel tighter. I pace the small space between the fire and the table, trying to burn off the restless energy. My hands keep flexing, like they’re looking for something to hold on to.
If I keep her close, I keep her in this circle of grief with me. If I let her go… at least she’sclear of it.
The thought feels like a knife in my ribs, but it’s solid.Unavoidable.
I drop onto the couch and stare at the fire. The warmth hits my skin, but it doesn’t touch the cold sitting deep in me.
Later, when the flames have burned down and the shadows in the room have stretched longer, Amber leaves the chair and sits beside me. The edge of her blanket brushes against my leg, and I can feel her warmth even through the fabric.
“You’re quiet,” she says softly.
“I’m thinking,” I tell her. My voice sounds strange to my own ears.
She tilts her head, eyes searching mine. “About earlier?”
“About…everything.” I hesitate, then add, “About us.”
Her brows pull together, and she leans in, resting her hand against my cheek. “Talk to me, Bas.”
I close my eyes for a moment, letting her touch sink in. Then I pull back, because if I stay there too long, I’ll lose the nerve to say what I have to.
“Amber… I care about you. More than I thought I’d be able to care about anyone again.”
Her lips part, but I keep going before she can speak.
“But tonight… it showed me something I’ve been trying not to admit. How close you are to being taken from me. How easy it could be. And I—” My throat closes for a second. “I can’t go through that again.”
She blinks at me. “This isn’t the same as?—”
“I know it’s not,” I say quickly. “But it feels the same in here.” I press my hand flat over my chest. “That feeling that the moment you love someone, the clock starts ticking. I’ve lived it once, and it was enough.”
Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Bas, you can’t live your life like that. You can’t keep everyone at arm’s length just because something might happen.”
I shake my head. “It’s not about arm’s length. It’s about knowing myself. I haven’t moved on from Marieke—not completely. And maybe I never will. It’s better a broken heart now, early on… than for you to be destroyed later, when you’ve given me everything and I still can’t give you all of me back.”
Her eyes widen, hurt flashing sharply. “So…what? Everything we’ve done means nothing to you? The time we’ve spent together… all of it? Does that not matter?”
“Of course it matters,” I say quickly, my chest tightening. “Every second of it matters. More than I can explain. But that’s the problem, Amber. You mattertoomuch. And if I can’t love you the way you deserve, the way you need, then keeping you close isn’t fair to either of us.”
Her voice cracks. “You think walking away is fair?”
“No,” I say. “It’s just the only way I know to stop myself from hurting you worse later.”
Her eyes glisten. “You’re deciding for both of us.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “But if the end result is you standing there one day, realising I could never truly leave the past behind… I’d rather you hate me for walking away now than have to live through that.”
She squeezes my hand. “You’re the strongest man I know.”
“Strong doesn’t mean I can keep you safe,” I tell her. “And you deserve safe.”
Her lips press together, like she’s trying to hold something in.
