Page 61 of Fumbling Forward
“I don’t need protection. I need you.”
She closes her eyes, fresh tears spilling over. “I can’t be what you need right now. Not when I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
The admission guts me. I want to argue, to fight, to make her see we’re stronger together. But looking at her now, at how broken, exhausted and barely holding herself together she is, I realize that pushing will only make things worse.
So, I do the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I step back.
“Okay,” I say, even though the word feels like swallowing glass. “If you need space, I’ll give you space.”
Hope flickers in her eyes. “You will?”
“But I’m not giving up on us, Olivia.” I hold her gaze. “Take your time. Figure out what you need. But know that I’ll be here when you’re ready. Because I love you. And that’s not going to change.”
She sobs, covering her face with her hands. I want to pull her into my arms, to comfort her, but I know it’s not what she needs right now.
So, I do the only thing I can.
I walk to her door and open it.
“I’m here,” I say one more time. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Then I leave, closing the door softly behind me.
And as I walk down the pathway, my chest feels like it’s caving in. Because I just lost the woman I love for the second time.
And this time, I don’t know if I’m going to get her back.
My phone buzzes as I reach my truck. Derek.
Saw the news. You okay?
I stare at the message for a long moment before typing back.
No.
Three dots appear immediately.
Need company?
Need a drink.
On my way to your place. I’ll bring the good stuff.
I climb into my truck and sit there for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to process everything that just happened.
This morning, I woke up with Olivia in my arms, thinking we could face anything together.
Now, I’m alone, and she’s asking for space.
And I have no idea how to fix any of it.
My phone buzzes again. This time it’s an email from Mark.
Meeting tomorrow. 9 AM. We need to discuss your statement to the press.
I delete it without responding.
