Chapter 23
COVERING THE INSIDE: DEFENDING PRIMARY OVERTAKING LINE
My brain, which usually fills stillness with analysis, solutions, and patterns, comes up with nothing to explain the way my heart is pounding. Nothing but him, that is.
I lean back against the mirrored wall in the elevator, arms crossing loosely as I study my own reflection. If someone were to step into the elevator, they’d find me composed. Unaffected. Except I know better.
Especially after a conversation like the one we just had.
The doors slide open onto my floor. I step out, my rubber-soled flats squeaking softly against the polished tile. My mind is consumed with thoughts of Leo, and I can’t shake them.
By the time I reach my room, I’ve already started the process of breaking down our evening into parts that make sense. Tonight, a skill I’ve honed refuses to cooperate.
The door to my room closes behind me with a quiet click just before I drop my keycard in the slot designed to activate the room’s electronics.
The light by my bedside illuminates the room with a soft glow.
But I don’t move. Instead, I stand inside the dim space like I expect a knock at my door if I wait a few seconds.
It doesn’t happen.
“Get it together,” I tell myself. I hop on one foot at a time as I cross the room, yanking off my flats with the intention of flinging them into a corner. Instead, I place them down with deliberate care to prove to myself I can have control.
At least over some things.
My calm lasts until I’ve put my pajamas back on. But the second I stop having something to do, my night with Leo starts to replay. I brace my hands on the edge of the dresser, inhaling and exhaling. “Okay, Christin. Walk through it.”
The first thing that comes to mind is the absolute despair in his voice when he said, “My father is the Earl of Hawthorne.” Leo, in all our time together, hadn’t given me even the slightest inkling as to why he wasn’t in contact with his family. At least, not before tonight.
Analyzing the night the way I do everything, I consider that he wanted to be with me; just me. The effort he put in to make the evening as comfortable as possible was evident.
He also didn’t deflect from the hard topics. Not once. Not when I asked follow-up questions. I murmur aloud, “He named what he did because he lived it. Vitriol. Dismissal. They were his words, not mine.”
But the biggest sticking point of the night is that he didn’t ask for forgiveness.
Didn’t expect us to pick up from where we left off.
That one surprised me because I fully expected him to want to resume our relationship before he blew it up.
But to know that he agrees we can’t return to what we had after what happened?
That matters.
Because most people do after a betrayal. They sincerely apologize with expectations attached. A check-the-box remorse already mapped out in their heads.
Leo didn’t. He asked for a chance.
As sincere as I know he was, it doesn’t erase what he said. It doesn’t erase the way every memory I had in my family home shifted. It doesn’t undo the way I felt standing there, realizing I had miscalculated him completely. “Tonight was good, but I’m allowed to be cautiously optimistic.”
My head falls forward. “After all, emotions are far less predictable than code.” My words breathe in the quiet of the room, like naming the problem might make it easier to solve.
It doesn’t.
Because there is no clean solution here. No series of steps I can follow to guarantee a stable outcome. No patch I can deploy to correct what broke between us.
Just variables. Too many of them.
I push away from the dresser, pacing once across the room before stopping near the windows. The city stretches out below me, all light and structure—everything appearing ordered from a distance. Bahrain at night is deceptive. It looks calm. Predictable. It’s none of those things.
Kind of like this situation.
I exhale slowly, resting my forehead briefly against the glass before saying softly, “He made a huge effort because of me.”
And that’s the crux of it. He’s Leo Hawthorne. He could have walked away from what happened between us and found a new person to be by his side. He didn’t. He’s putting forth the effort to redeem himself in my eyes.
My arms fold loosely across my stomach, fingers pressing lightly into my sides as if I can hold everything in place. “There’s something still between us because he hasn’t stopped trying and I can’t let go.”
That’s the part I keep circling back to.
Walking away would be easier. Instead, Leo opened himself up to let me see everything I wasn’t privy to before, including a lifelong pattern of neglect that infuriates me.
Still, I caution myself, “Understanding why he said what he did doesn’t change the fact that it happened. ”
It doesn’t change the impact of how quickly something I trusted shifted into something I had to defend my heart against. “But…knowing matters.”
Tonight mattered.
The way he sat there and didn’t try to pass blame matters.
The way he gave me insight into the parts of him he clearly doesn’t show just anyone.
The way he didn’t simply try to charm his way around discussing difficult things.
Truthfully, the honesty of it was jarring.
That’s not nothing, and I recognize the emotional toll it must have taken on him, even though I wish it had happened before we imploded.
I move toward the bed, sit and lean forward—elbows braced on my knees, hands loosely clasped together. If my heart was a system, I’d monitor behavior over time. Look for consistency and perform regression testing. Assess whether the change is real or temporary.
My lips press together, forming a tight line, before I murmur, “That’s what he is asking for—a period where I can observe whether he’s changed.”
It seems so simple, yet it’s everything.
The idea settles into place more easily than anything else has tonight because I can understand that. Leo knows he’s not getting immediate access to my heart. He’s letting me set the boundaries.
The only thing he’s asked for is another chance to show me he’s not the man I overheard. I told him I’d consider it.
My fingers loosen, resting against my knees as I lean back slightly. “His request refuses to let me ignore what I feel.”
That’s the other side of it. The part I’d prefer to minimize. Because when I’m around Leo, my own emotions are out of control. My pulse thrums harder against my skin. I mutter, “You’re not helping yourself, Christin.”
But it’s the truth, and pretending I don’t feel that way would be a whole different mistake. I glance toward the door, the memory of him patiently asking me out for dinner clear. Not pushing for anything more. Just waiting and hoping.
That’s when I realize what I need more than anything. “Consistency.”
I don’t need restaurants shut down or gifts. I need him to rebuild the foundation he cracked. And that won’t happen in one night or with one conversation. In spite of how beautiful tonight was, I’m stuck in a loop of “wait and see.”
I reach for the lamp beside the bed and switch it off, the room slipping back into shadow. Better, less distracting. As it is, I feel exposed as I think about the reasons I accepted his invitation and listened to his explanations.
Clarity doesn’t always come from more light. Sometimes it comes from sitting in the dark with heavy thoughts.
Time passes while I’m curled up in my bed. My mind drifts to the end of the night. The kiss on my cheek before I got on the elevator. The way he stared at me as the elevator doors shut between us. My fingers brush lightly against my cheek where his lips barely grazed. It really wasn’t a kiss.
Not like some of the ones we’ve shared.
Still, it felt more intimate than any other embrace we’ve shared. Careful in a way I didn’t expect. Treating me and the moment as if we were precious.
The way he communicated both intent and regret with his eyes. He didn’t push. Didn’t try to manipulate me into giving more than I was ready for.
He asked if it was a possibility and accepted the answer I gave.
I know I’ve written off people who have hurt my friends and me.
Case in point, Amy’s boyfriend Brennan has finally moved from being Public Enemy Number One to someone I’m almost ready to trust with her heart.
My lips curve when I think about how horrified he’ll be when he realizes we plan to head down to their small Oklahoma town for a few days over spring break in April, while the circuit is on break.
As for people who have already proven they can hurt me? I usually don’t hesitate to cut them out of my life when necessary. The problem is, Leo’s never truly left my heart.
I rest against the pillows and stare sightlessly upward. This is where logic fails.
There’s no clean calculation for emotions.
Still, there is one thing I do know for certain. “If I don’t give him a real chance, I’m going to regret it.”
I know that if we’re going to work, then he has to show me he can be trusted without reverting to the version of himself that broke us in the first place.
I exhale slowly, something quieter settling beneath everything else. Then, I plead aloud, “Don’t make me regret this.”
It isn’t just directed at Leo.
It’s directed toward myself and the decision I subconsciously made when I didn’t walk away from dinner tonight.