Chapter 24 #2
He winced. “Because suddenly, the person I’d been spilling all my words to—the one I never thought I’d meet—was sitting across from me on my couch.
And I didn’t know how to handle it. I wanted to tell you, Livvi.
A dozen times. But every time I opened my mouth, I choked.
I didn’t want to lose what we had online, and I didn’t want to risk what we were building in real life. ”
I stared at him, my throat tight, tears stinging the backs of my eyes.
“You let me think there were two people,” I whispered. “You let me believe I was falling in … I don’t even know what. With both of you.”
“I know.” His voice cracked. “And I hate that. I hate that I hurt you. I kept telling myself I’d tell you the truth tomorrow. Then tomorrow. Then tomorrow. And suddenly, I’d run out of tomorrows.”
My hands shook as I curled them in my lap. “Do you have any idea how confusing this is for me? How much I trusted you? Both versions of you?”
“Yes,” he said fiercely. “I know. And I don’t deserve your trust right now. But I swear, Livvi, nothing I told you was fake. Not one word. Whether I was Talon or TheWriteGuy, it was always me. The same feelings. The same truths. Just … split in half.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to hold myself together. Around us, the café hummed with normalcy—coffee machines steaming, spoons clinking, people chatting. But at our little table, everything was broken open.
And yet, underneath the sting, something else throbbed. Relief. Because at least now I knew. At least now there weren’t two men tugging at my heart.
Just one.
One man I didn’t know if I could forgive.
“I don’t know what to do with this,” I whispered finally.
His gaze softened, pain etched in every line of his face. “You don’t have to decide right now. Take your time. Be mad at me. I deserve it. Just … please don’t walk away without knowing that this—” He gestured between us. “It’s real. Every part of it.”
I swallowed hard, blinking against the tears.
Surprise. Comfort. Pain. Hope.
Flashes of the past few months rushed through my mind like someone had hit play on a highlight reel—late-night chats where TheWriteGuy somehow knew exactly what to say when I felt stuck, Talon coaxing me out of my comfort zone, caring about what I had to say.
Each of them had been an anchor. Each of them had been the person I could trust to see me, really see me.
And now—because they were the same person—that trust felt both broken and stronger than ever.
I didn’t like that he hadn’t told me sooner. That much was true. But another truth pressed harder against my ribs: this was exactly what I hadn’t known I was searching for. Someone who cared enough to know all sides of me—and still wanted to be with me.
“Livvi,” Talon said softly, leaning forward, elbows braced on the table.
His voice was rough, uncertain. “I know I should’ve told you the second I figured it out.
I didn’t because I was terrified you would feel tricked or that you’d hate me for keeping it from you.
But none of this—the chats, the time at the pool, dinners at my place—none of it was a lie.
Every word, every second with you, was real. It’s always been you.”
My throat tightened. I wanted to be angry, to tell him how unfair it was that he’d let me fall for two versions of him. But the words wouldn’t form, because underneath the ache sat something else: a different, more potent relief. A steady, almost frightening relief that it had been him all along.
The café had filled while we’d sat there, the low buzz of voices and clinking mugs pressing close. I needed air, needed space to think and breathe and decide what to do next.
I pushed back from the table, my chair scraping softly against the tile. “Can we … go outside? I just—need some air.”
For a heartbeat, fear flickered across his face, like he thought I was about to bolt. But then he nodded quickly, standing and leaving both cups and his food. “Of course.”
We stepped out into the warm afternoon air, the door swinging shut behind us. The world felt quieter out here, the street alive with distant traffic but muted. I wrapped my arms around myself, as if I could hold my emotions together.
Talon stood next to me, his posture tense, like every muscle in his body was coiled with the possibility that I might shatter him with a single word.
I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But at least now everything was out in the open.
And maybe that was the bravest place to start.
I studied him, really studied him. The guy who’d teased me about the study room at the library.
The guy who’d made space in his apartment for a fish just because I’d wanted him to have something to inspire him.
The guy who’d typed out words late into the night and made me feel less alone than I’d felt in years.
And suddenly, standing here, I realized leaving wasn’t even an option.
I stepped closer, my voice unsteady but still certain.
“I don’t like how you kept this from me.
I don’t. But I can’t ignore what’s right in front of me either.
I wanted TheWriteGuy to be someone I could trust. I wanted Talon to be someone I could …
maybe fall for. Turns out, I’ve had both the whole time. ”
His eyes widened, hopeful and searching, like he was trying to make sure I meant every word. “Livvi …” His voice cracked. He swallowed, then whispered, “Tell me I haven’t ruined this.”
I shook my head, a breathless laugh escaping despite the lump in my throat. “You’ve ruined my sense of balance, sure. But … not this.”
That was all he needed. He reached for me, hands trembling slightly as they framed my face, giving me every second to pull away. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
When his lips touched mine, it wasn’t tentative.
It was the culmination of months of words, of glances, of unspoken confessions finally given a voice.
The kiss was hungry and aching, like we’d both been holding our breath all this time and finally let it out in each other’s arms. Something suspiciously close to love surged through me all at once, wild and unstoppable.
For the first time, there was no Talon versus TheWriteGuy. There was only him.