Chapter Thirty-Five
THE DOORS SLID open behind me with a dull mechanical sound that felt louder than it should have, the air outside colder than I expected as I stepped onto the sidewalk, my body still running on something thin and frayed after hours under fluorescent lights and questions I didn’t have the energy to answer anymore.
For a second, I kept my gaze fixed anywhere but him, not wanting to see, not wanting to think, but the moment I finally looked up, he was there.
Gatsby sat on his bike just off to the side of the lot, the engine running low beneath him, steady and familiar in a way nothing else had been all night, his posture still, his head angled just enough that I knew he’d been watching those doors the whole time, waiting.
He was waiting for me, and something in my chest shifted hard enough to knock loose everything I’d been barely holding together as I stood there too long just looking at him, needing to be sure he was real, while he didn’t wave or call out or move, only watched like it was my choice.
I crossed the distance before I could talk myself out of it, slower than I should have been but steady, my hand finding the back of the bike as I swung on behind him, my hands sliding to his sides and gripping tighter than I meant to, like letting go wasn’t something I trusted myself to do yet.
Neither of us said a word, and for a second neither of us moved, until the engine shifted under us and he pulled out without looking back, like whatever was behind us didn’t matter anymore.
***
THE ENGINE CUT in front of my house, the sudden quiet hitting harder than the ride, and I stayed there a second too long with my hands still locked around him, like I hadn’t caught up to the fact that we’d stopped, that we were here, that everything I’d been holding back the whole way was waiting right on the other side of it.
He didn’t move right away, didn’t turn around, just sat there solid under me like he was giving me space, but not distance.
I let go slow, my fingers dragging a little as I pulled back, stepping off the bike, the ground feeling unsteady under my feet as my eyes lifted to the house, needing to see it, to make sure it was still mine, still there.
I heard the shift of movement, boots hitting pavement, and I walked to the door already knowing he’d follow.
Inside, the house felt too still, the kind of quiet that pressed in, making every sound louder, the door shutting, the lock clicking, the weight of him stepping in behind me, and I didn’t turn around yet because I didn’t trust what would happen if I did.
I stood there breathing, trying to get my head back on straight, when his voice finally came, low and rough like it had been held back too long.
“You good?”
A breath left me that almost sounded like a laugh, even though nothing about this was funny. “No,” I said, honest because there wasn’t any point in lying anymore. “Not even a little.”
Silence settled heavy between us, thick with everything we hadn’t said, and when I finally turned, he was already watching me like he’d been waiting for it, waiting for me.
“You found me,” I said, because it was easier than everything else sitting behind it.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low, rough, like it scraped on the way out.
I nodded once, arms crossing without thinking. “I’m sorry.”
His jaw ticked, something sharp flashing before he reined it in. “Yeah… you should be.”
That hit harder than anything else had. “I was scared,” I said, stepping closer without realizing it. “I wanted to tell you—but Kane said he’d kill you. All of you.”
His head dropped, a rough breath leaving him before he looked back up, something darker sitting behind his eyes now.
“You don’t get to carry that alone,” he said, voice tight. “You don’t get to decide I don’t get a say.”
“That’s how it felt,” I shot back, closer now, the space between us gone without either of us really choosing it.
That landed.
Hard.
He dragged a hand over his neck, pacing once like he needed to burn something off before stopping in front of me again.
“You almost died,” he said, slower now, rough in a different way. “You get that? You were in danger and I wasn’t there.”
“I would’ve rather died than let him hurt you because of me.”
His head snapped up. “Don’t.”
The word cracked, sharp enough to cut through everything.
“Don’t ever say that shit again,” he added, quieter but worse, like it came from somewhere deeper than anger.
Silence hit hard after that.
“I care about you,” he went on, voice lower now, steadier but no less intense. “More than I should. More than’s smart. More than I ever planned on.”
His gaze locked on mine, and for a second, just a second, there was something there that looked dangerously close to breaking.
“Fuck, Evie…” he exhaled, like the words cost him something. “I love you.”
That cracked something open in me. “I love you, too,” I said, softer, but just as real.
He held my gaze, searching it like he needed proof, then nodded once “Then we do this right,” he said. “No more lies. No more shutting me out. You got something, you bring it to me. I don’t care how bad it is, I’d rather take it head-on than almost lose you again.”
A shaky breath left me. “Okay.”
He stepped closer then, slower this time, like he was holding himself back on purpose, like he didn’t trust what would happen if he didn’t.
His hand came up, rough fingers brushing my jaw, and that was it.
I moved into him.
My hands fisted in his shirt as I pulled him in, and whatever control he’d been holding onto snapped clean, his hand locking at my waist as his mouth crashed into mine hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
It wasn’t soft. It was everything we hadn’t said, everything we hadn’t let happen, everything we almost lost, colliding all at once with nowhere to go but here.
I leaned into him, into the solid heat of him, into the fact that he was here, and I felt the shift in him instantly, something darker breaking loose under the surface as his grip tightened, like letting me go wasn’t something he trusted himself to do anymore.
His hand slid into my hair, pulling just enough to tip my head back before his mouth found mine again, deeper this time, slower but heavier, like he was grounding himself in it, like he needed to feel that I was real.
A breath broke between us, thin, unsteady, before I closed it again, not letting the distance stay, my hands sliding under his jacket, needing more, needing him, and he reacted instantly, backing me up without breaking the kiss.
One step. Then another.
Until my back hit the wall.
The impact didn’t slow anything, it heightened it.
His body pressed into mine, firm, controlled, like he was holding himself right on the edge, and I could feel it, the restraint, the tension, the part of him that wanted to take more and the part that refused to push me too far.
My hands stayed on him, gripping, anchoring, feeling every bit of that control as his mouth moved against mine again, slower now, deliberate, like he was memorizing it—like he wasn’t risking losing it again.
When we finally broke, it wasn’t clean.
It dragged.
His forehead dropped to mine, breath rough, uneven, his hand still locked at my waist like letting go wasn’t something he trusted yet.
And for a second, just a second, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, and I felt it then, the crack under everything, the part of him that hadn’t caught up yet, that was still somewhere back there thinking he’d lost me.
“You scared the hell outta me,” he muttered finally, so low it almost didn’t make it out.
“You’re here,” I whispered, the words catching because it still didn’t feel real.
His grip tightened, just enough to ground it. “Yeah,” he said, rough, calmer now, but not by much. “I’m here.”
His thumb pressed into my side, like he needed the contact, like he needed to feel me there. “You’re mine to protect, Evie… don’t take that choice away from me again.”