CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
GRANT
I knew I fucked up the second Lina started crying in my arms last night.
None of this has been fair to her. Not me bringing her to my bed time and time again. Not me kissing her in Martha’s Vineyard and hooking up with her when we got home.
When she started crying, I knew this wasn’t what she really wanted. She was attempting to conform to me, and I can’t let her do that.
I’ve spent so long trying to build a version of my life that’s safe.
Not happy, not whole—just safe.
Contained and manageable, like if I kept my feelings small enough, maybe nothing else would spiral out of control. I thought that if I could see the wreck coming, I could steer everyone I loved out of its path.
Because losing my mom ruined me. Not in the way people say casually, but in the way where your body keeps score even when your brain pretends it’s moved on. Where every day after feels like a prelude to the next disaster.
I was seventeen. Seventeen and trying to wake her up on the kitchen floor.
Calling 911 with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.
Hearing the words, ‘ Accidental overdose,’ and thinking, ‘ No. I should’ve known.
I should’ve done something.’ And ever since then, I have wholeheartedly believed that if I didn’t love anyone— really love them—then I wouldn’t have to be so terrified all the time.
So I built walls and used my routines as safety nets. I logged things and played out worst-case scenarios in my head like drills for a fire that hasn’t started yet. I made sure I could catch everyone before they fell. And when I couldn’t? When something slipped past me?
I punished myself for it. Quietly. All-consuming.
But now Lina’s here, and she’s not asking for protection. She’s just there, constantly sitting across from me with those eyes that see more than I want her to.
And I want to let her in. God, I do .
Every time she looks at me like she might stay, I feel this vise grip in my chest. This voice in the back of my head that says, ‘ What if you hurt her? What if she dies? What if you miss something and it’s your fault again?’
I’m tired of that voice. I’m tired of living like love is something I have to guard against. Like the only way to protect someone is to never let them close.
I don’t want to be alone anymore, or keep her at arm’s length just to prove I can keep her safe.
Because the truth is, I can’t.
And maybe that’s the scariest part. But it’s also the most human one.
She deserves more than my fear. I deserve more than my fear.
The first call I make is to Savannah. I’m pacing the kitchen by the time she answers on one of the last rings.
“Where’s Lina?” I ask as soon as the line connects.
“She walked me back to the Tri Delta house because it was close by, but now she’s on her way back to the apartment,” she says, sounding suspiciously in the know, almost like she’s been waiting on something.
“I’m taking the risk, Sav.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” She sounds more frustrated than I thought she would be. “After all that, you finally—you know what? Never mind.”
“Um…” I trail off. “Is everything okay? I thought you would be excited.”
“Ask Lina.” She pauses. “Oh, and don’t let her say anything before you tell her you’re serious about this, alright? Don’t let her lead.”
Her frantic tone cues me in, and I’m almost certain of how this is going to play out.
“Alright, Sav. I got it.”
“Thank God for you coming to your senses.”
I laugh, and before I can agree with her, she adds, “Just don’t mess this up, okay? I like Lina a lot, and she’s my friend now. I can’t have you going and?—”
“Savannah,” I cut her off. “I got it. Don’t worry, I know what I want now.”
“And it’s her?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I look up at the ceiling, running my free hand through my hair. “It’s her.” Definitely.
“Well then what the hell are you waiting for?” she yells, causing me to momentarily pull the phone away from my ear. “She’s probably walking into the building right now! Go!”
I hang up with Savannah and toss my phone on the counter, hands gripping the edge like it might hold me steady. I stare at the floor for a beat, trying to calm the racing in my chest, but there’s no point pretending I’m not already halfway out the door.
Because I know the look Lina’s going to have when she walks in.
Composed. Guarded. A little too bright around the edges, like she’s patched herself up with whatever scraps she could find. Like last night didn’t crack her open.
And it kills me.
Because I did that.
I grab my jacket and make it to her apartment in record time. I don’t knock—Savannah told me not to let her lead, and I know Lina. I know the way she folds inward when she’s unsure of her place. I can’t give her time to talk herself out of this.
The front door opens just as I’m halfway up the stairs.
She stops when she sees me.
Lina freezes, clutching a to-go cup in one hand and her keys in the other like a shield. Her hair’s damp from the snow, face flushed from the cold. She looks tired.
But she doesn’t back away.
“Hey,” she says, cautious.
“Hi.”
There's silence. One of those long, drawn-out ones that feels like the entire room is holding its breath.
“Before you say anything,” I start, “I just—I need you to let me go first.”
She nods slowly, jaw tightening.
I step closer, heart pounding in my ears.
“You cried last night, and I still kissed you. I knew you weren’t doing it for you.
I knew you were trying to fit into something that made sense for me , and that’s the part that’s haunted me all morning.
I don’t want you to have to pretend this is a one-time thing when we both know you don’t want it to be. ”
She opens her mouth, but I hold up a hand.
“I’m serious about you,” I say. The words fall out of me, sharp and certain.
“I know I haven’t acted like it. I know I’ve done the whole push-pull thing so many times you probably want to punch me in the throat—and I’ll let you, if you still want to once I finish—but I need you to know I’m done with that.
I don’t want to live like that anymore.”
Her brows lift slightly. Her arms cross in front of her chest.
I keep going.
“I’ve been scared. Terrified , actually. Not of you, but of what it means to care so much about someone who could disappear. Of what it means to love someone so much that the thought of losing them feels like losing oxygen. But I realized something today.”
She waits.
“I realized I’d rather have you, even with the risk, than not have you at all. I want the whole thing. All of it. Even the parts that scare me.”
For a split second, I feel that familiar panic creep in, like maybe I’m too late, like maybe she’s going to tell me that I missed my window.
But then Lina’s mouth quirks up.
“Did Savannah tell you to say all that?”
I laugh, relieved, because that’s so her. Always cracking jokes, using that sarcastic wit of hers.
“She might’ve warned me not to screw it up,” I admit. “But everything else? All me.”
She steps forward then. Just one slow, deliberate step.
“You’re sure?” she asks, so quiet it nearly wrecks me.
“Lina, I’ve never wanted anything with anyone, but then you told me last night that sometimes we have to learn how to live with the fear and choose people who make it worth it.” I hold her by her shoulders, looking at her in all of her beauty. “ You are worth it.”
It barely takes a second for her to swing her arms around my shoulders, pull me down to her height, and crash her lips into mine.
“I shouldn’t even tell you what I was coming over here to say to you,” she mutters as she pulls away.
I cup her jaw in my hands, looking her right in those beautiful doe eyes. “Tell me.”
“I was going to suck it up, come over here, and tell you that I would rather have no strings than nothing at all,” she says in one tortured breath. “I was fully prepared for it to mean nothing to you, but it was better than it actually being nothing for me.”
“That’s exactly what I didn’t want,” I tell her honestly.
We’re still in the middle of the hallway. I’m sure we’re going to make it back down to my apartment eventually, but right now, I need her to hear this.
“I didn’t want you to conform to me, pretty girl. I promise you, I want you to speak your mind, bitch me out, and never settle for when I give you anything less than what you want. It’s exactly why you’re different for me, Lina.”
Her lips part slightly, and I can see her eyes beginning to shine again—but this time, it’s not sadness.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Okay?” I echo, my thumb brushing under her eye.
She smiles—small at first, then like the sun cracking through the clouds. “Let’s go back to your apartment.”
I motion toward her door. “Grab your bag, and we can go.”
The second she begins to open the door, we hear the sound of her roommates scrambling out of the entryway.
Lina looks back at me with the door still almost all the way closed and laughs.
I hold her shoulder. “Give them a minute to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping.”
She bites back a smile and then leans her forehead against the door.
From inside, we hear a whisper, “Shit, shit, move, go—” and the unmistakable sound of socked feet skidding across hardwood.
A muffled thud.
Then silence.
Lina looks at me over her shoulder, eyes sparkling now. “You think that’s long enough?”
I grin. “Better give it another five seconds for dramatic effect.”
We count together under our breath. “Five… four… three… two…”
She opens the door with a flourish. “Hi, guys!”
The living room is empty. Suspiciously so. A throw pillow lies abandoned in the middle of the floor, and someone’s half-drunk smoothie is sweating on the coffee table. The hallway light flicks off a beat too late, like someone just ducked out of sight.
Lina chuckles and grabs her tote from the hook by the door. “Subtle, they are not.”
“Honestly, I respect the effort,” I say, reaching for her hand as she locks the door behind her.