Chapter 27 #2
The words punched the air out of my lungs.
“Not because I think he’s a bad person, but because the situation isn’t fair. He’s older. You’re living under his roof. Whether he means to or not, that gives him power.”
I closed my eyes.
Fuck.
“I don’t think Theo sees how much influence he has over you.
And I won’t let you get hurt because of that.
” A sharp exhale. “So if he contacts you, or tries to explain himself, be careful. That’s all I’m saying.
” A final beat. “I know this drops you in the shit for somewhere to stay, but… I’m doing this because I care about you. ”
The voicemail ended.
The flat felt even emptier than before.
My heart pounded as the pieces slammed together.
Theo didn’t leave because he stopped loving me.
He left because someone told him he was dangerous.
Because my brother took care and twisted it into harm. Because he made Theo believe staying was selfish and leaving was protection.
My fingers shook as I typed a message to Gary, doing my best to keep a lid on my rage.
How dare you? How DARE you? And don’t bother replying to this. I won’t answer. I am *beyond* pissed. You had no fucking right.
Once I’d sent it, I forced myself to breathe. I pulled up the portrait of Theo on my phone and stared at it.
“He told you to stay away from me,” I whispered into the quiet room. “So you vanished.”
This isn’t about you.
Theo thought he was doing the right thing.
That knowledge didn’t soften the blow—it sharpened it.
Because I would have chosen him anyway.
I stared at my phone, Theo’s name glowing at the top of my messages. The last exchange stupidly normal. A pizza emoji. A joke.
My thumb hovered.
Just call him.
This is a misunderstanding. You can fix misunderstandings.
I imagined him answering, his voice careful, controlled, already bracing.
I need space.
This isn’t about you.
I’m trying to do the right thing.
And that was exactly why I couldn’t call.
If I called now, Theo would hear obligation. Pressure. A reason to explain himself instead of listening to what he actually felt.
And worse?
He would come back because I asked. Because he didn’t want to hurt me.
Gary’s words echoed again, ugly and persistent.
You’re living under his roof. That gives him power.
If I called him now, Theo would hear confirmation of his worst fear.
I hurt you. I need to fix this by leaving less.
I wouldn’t do that to him.
I wouldn’t let love turn into duty.
Instead, I scrolled back through our messages. Theo reminding me to eat. Theo sending rehearsal times with a heart as if it slipped out accidentally. Theo asking, You okay?—and meaning it every single time.
Theo hadn’t disappeared because he didn’t care.
He’d disappeared because he cared too much and didn’t trust himself to stay.
My jaw tightened.
If I called him now, I’d steal the choice.
Theo had to come back because he wanted to, not because I pulled him there with my hurt.
I set the phone down carefully as though it might break, and leaned back against the sofa, my eyes burning.
This was the hardest thing, not chasing him, not fixing this. Not rescuing him.
I have to trust the man I love to find his way back.
Because if Theo couldn’t choose to stay, I wouldn’t build a future on guilt.
My phone buzzed and my heart leapt, except it wasn’t Theo, just the group chat.
I swallowed hard.
“Okay,” I whispered to the empty room. “I’ll wait.” Not forever, but long enough.
I picked up the note again, smoothing the crease with my thumb.
This isn’t about you.
“I know,” I said quietly. “But I wish you’d let me stand with you.”
Loving Theo meant not saving him from himself.
Realisation hurt like hell, and this was the bravest thing I’d ever done.
It was then it hit me.
I’m not falling in love with Theo—I already love him.
Theo
I didn’t sleep.
Sleep would have required stillness, and my body refused to stop vibrating with everything I’d buried.
Max’s sofa was too short, the cushions too thin, the ceiling too close. Every time I closed my eyes, Gary’s voice slammed back into me—You don’t realise how much power you have—followed immediately by Cameron’s face, open and trusting in a way that felt like a wound now.
I rolled onto my side, then onto my back. I sat up, elbows on my knees, breathing as though I’d just run up six flights of stairs.
This is what panic feels like when it has nowhere to go.
I dragged my hands through my hair, my palms slick with sweat. My chest felt tight, as if something inside me was trying to claw its way out and I was still trying to keep the door shut.
The worst part?
Gary was right.
Not about Cameron being young or living under my roof, or even about power, but
about me.
I do pull away.
I do disappear when things stop being manageable.
I do leave before I can be left.
I pressed my fist against my mouth to keep the sound inside me.
All this time I’d been telling myself I was careful, ethical, a responsible adult, but the truth came for me anyway, sharp and undeniable.
I wasn’t protecting Cameron—I was protecting myself from being chosen, from being wanted in a way that wasn’t abstract or theoretical, from someone looking at me and saying, I see all of you—and I’m still here.
Because that’s the risk I’ve never learned how to survive.
My chest ached as Cameron’s voice surfaced in my head, patient, steady, not pleading, not demanding.
He hadn’t needed me to be perfect. He hadn’t asked me to be smaller.
He’d just stayed.
And I ran.
The realisation hit so hard it stole my breath.
I bent forward, my forearms braced on my thighs, staring at the floor as if it might collapse under the weight of everything I carried.
“God,” I whispered. “I don’t want to be this man anymore.”
The words trembled in the dark, sounding raw and unfamiliar.
For years, change had felt like a threat, a loss of structure, but now—terrifyingly—it didn’t feel impossible.
Now it felt necessary.
The thought of Cameron coming home to an empty flat made my stomach twist violently. Of him reading those lines—those lies—and believing he wasn’t enough to make me stay.
I should go back. No rules, no control, just honesty.
Because if I don’t go back and tell him the truth—about my fear, my shame, the way love still feels like a loaded weapon in my hands—I will lose him.
Not because I wasn’t good enough, but because I refused to risk being known.
I stood abruptly, heart hammering, the decision crashing into place with startling clarity.
Running had cost me enough. This time, if I was going to fall—
I would fall towards him.
I closed my eyes, breath shuddering out of me, and let the truth settle where it belonged.
Morning couldn’t come fast enough.