Chapter 23 #2
"I'm not asking you to make some public statement," I say quietly. "I'm not asking for attention or headlines or whatever disaster scenario you've built in your head."
Calder's jaw tightens hard. Because he knows exactly what I'm about to say before I say it.
"I just don't want to feel hidden anymore."
The words settle softly between us. Still devastating.
Calder looks like I physically hit him. His body shifts toward me before he can stop it.
That instinct again. His hand even twitching slightly at his side before fear catches him halfway through the movement.
Again. The sight nearly breaks my heart this time.
Because suddenly I realize I can't keep surviving on almosts.
Almost touches. Almost openness. Almost choosing me publicly.
I love him too much for this to keep feeling this small.
"You think you're protecting us," I whisper.
Calder exhales sharply. "I am." The certainty in his voice hurts more than hesitation would have. Because he truly believes it. He genuinely thinks pulling me into smaller and smaller private spaces is responsibility instead of fear. Tears burn unexpectedly behind my eyes. Quiet and exhausted.
"So what happens if this keeps getting bigger?" I ask softly. "Worlds. Playoffs. More articles. More attention."
Calder says nothing. And the silence gives me the answer anyway. More hiding. More control. More fear. Because Calder is waiting for a version of love that doesn't threaten his control. And I don't think that version exists.
"I can't keep making myself smaller so this feels safer for you."
The words come out shaking slightly. From grief more than uncertainty.
Because this isn't what I wanted. God, I wanted this to work.
I wanted him. I still do — that's the worst part.
Calder finally steps toward me properly then, panic cracking visibly through the restraint now. "Arabella, that's not what I'm asking."
But it is. Not intentionally. Not cruelly.
Still enough. Because every compromise he wants moves in the same direction.
Smaller. Quieter. Less visible. Less risky.
Less. The emotional exhaustion of that nearly pulls the breath from my lungs.
"I shouldn't have to earn being acknowledged by the person who loves me," I say softly.
The sentence lands like devastation between us.
Calder's entire face changes. Too late, he finally understands the full shape of what he's done.
Not one big betrayal. A thousand tiny moments where fear mattered more than instinct.
And standing there in the cold while heartbreak settles quietly through both of us, this isn't me punishing Calder for being afraid.
It's me finally refusing to disappear inside that fear with him.
For a few seconds Calder just stares at me. Like he genuinely cannot process how we got here this fast. The panic on his face is unbearable now. No restraint left. No careful control. Just fear finally realizing it waited too long to stop this.
"Arabella," he says again. My name breaks apart slightly in the middle.
The sound nearly destroys me. Because this is still him. Still the man who held ice against my ankle after bad practices. Who memorized my routines. Who looked for me in crowded arenas like breathing. Nothing about this feels clean enough to hate him for. That's what makes it so painful.
Tears finally slip loose before I can stop them. Exhausted tears sliding warm down my face while I stand there trying to hold myself together.
Calder moves instantly. His body reacts before fear can. His hand catches gently against my jaw. The touch wrecks me. Because there he is again. The real version of him. The one that loves me naturally. Calder wipes carefully at my cheek with his thumb. His own breathing sounds uneven now.
"Don't do this," he says quietly, not angry but terrified.
The plea settles into my chest. I close my eyes briefly against the feeling of his hand on my face. This is what makes it impossible. If he were colder, this would hurt less. Instead he touches me like letting go physically hurts him too.
"I don't know how to keep doing this," I whisper.
The words shake slightly coming out. Calder's forehead drops briefly against mine without thinking.
Another unconscious movement. Another almost. And suddenly the grief of that nearly crushes me.
Because even now, even while we're falling apart, our bodies still reach for each other without permission.
"I can fix it," Calder says roughly. The sentence comes too fast. Desperate. Like he's trying to grab onto the relationship before it disappears completely. But underneath the panic, I still hear it. Fix it. Survive it. Keep it from becoming something dangerous enough to destroy us both.
I pull back just enough to look at him. Calder's eyes look wrecked now. Fear. Love. Regret. Everything exposed completely for the first time tonight. Too late.
"I don't want to be something you manage," I say quietly.
Calder physically flinches. The reaction almost makes me take it back because hurting him still feels unbearable even now. But the truth already exists between us. I feel Calder's hand tighten slightly against my face like some reflex inside him refuses to let go fully.
"I love you." The words leave him rough. Uncontrolled.
Everything inside me stops. Because this is the first time he's actually said it.
Not implied it. Not almost said it. Said it.
And somehow it comes at exactly the wrong time.
A broken sound escapes me before I can stop it.
Not because I don't believe him. Because I do.
Completely. That's the tragedy of this. I love him too.
Enough that hearing it almost makes me stay despite everything.
Calder's forehead stays pressed against mine while both of us breathe unevenly into the cold night air.
Neither of us fully pulling away. Neither of us able to hold on properly either.
"I know," I whisper finally. The words sound like heartbreak.
Calder closes his eyes hard. Too bad it happened after the damage was already done. My fingers catch briefly around the sleeve of his shirt. One final unconscious hold. Then slowly, painfully, I let go.
And standing there beneath the city lights with tears drying cold against my skin, some heartbreaks happen loudly. This one happens softly. Two people loving each other completely while still failing anyway.