Page 92 of Triple Play
“I’ve spent two years watching you from a distance. Two years telling myself I made the right choice. That keeping you at arm’s length was protecting both of us.” I look directly at Elise now. “But I was just protecting myself. And hurting you in the process.”
A tear slips down her cheek. I want to reach out, wipe it away, but I don’t have that right anymore.
“Last night I heard you. With them. And I wanted to break down that door and—” I stop. Take a breath. “I wanted to report all of you to housing. Make you choose between this and your future. Blow it all up because I was hurting.”
“Grant—” Elise starts.
“But I didn’t. Because I’m done letting my fear dictate my life. I’m done punishing myself for surviving. I’m done pushing away the one person who makes me want to be better.”
I look at Jordie and Wyatt now. “You make her happy. I can see that. And maybe that’s enough. Maybe I’ve lost my chance and this is just me getting to say what I should have said two years ago.”
“But if there’s any part of you—” I focus on Elise again, pouring everything I have into this “—that still wants me. That can forgive me for being a coward. Then I’m here. I’m all in. I’m done running.”
The silence stretches. Heavy. Loaded.
Then Elise steps forward, extracting herself from Jordie and Wyatt, and stands in front of me with her arms crossed.
“You’re an asshole,” she says quietly.
“I know.”
“You broke my heart. Twice.”
“I know.”
“You called me a mistake. You slut-shamed me. You made me feel like wanting you was something to be ashamed of.”
Each word is a knife but I take it. Deserve it. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Elise.”
She’s looking at me with those hazel eyes that see everything. Then: “Why now? Why tell me this now instead of two years ago? Or two weeks ago?”
“Because I thought I could watch you move on. Thought I could handle it.” I laugh, bitter. “Turns out I can’t. Turns out watching you be happy without me is worse than any guilt I’ve been carrying.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” I step closer. Close enough to touch her but I don’t. “The real reason is Mason. If he were here, he’d tell me I’m being an idiot. He’d tell me life’s too short to waste on fear. He’d tell me to stop using his death as an excuse to not live my own life.”
My voice drops lower. “He’d tell me that the girl I love is standing right in front of me and if I don’t fight for her, I’m the dumbest son of a bitch who ever lived.”
Elise’s breath catches.
“So that’s what I’m doing. Fighting for you. Even if I’m too late. Even if you choose them and not me. At least you’ll know. At least I’ll have tried.”
She’s staring at me. Not speaking. Just staring.
Jordie and Wyatt haven’t moved. They’re watching this play out with careful neutrality, letting Elise take the lead.
“I don’t know what to say,” she finally whispers.
“You don’t have to say anything right now.” I step back. Give her space. “Think about it. Take your time. I’ll be here. And ifyou decide you don’t want me, I’ll accept that. But I needed you to know the truth first.”
I turn to leave, my chest tight with everything unsaid, my hands shaking with adrenaline and exhaustion and fear.
Then her hand catches mine.
“Grant.”
I stop. Turn back.
