Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five
Ruby
Four minutes. I glance from my watch to the driveway as a familiar pickup turns onto the gravel. A laugh escapes before I can stop it. “Four minutes.”
Ridiculous. Ridiculous that it only took him that long. And it’s ridiculous that I know him that well and still questioned him for so long.
The truck barely rolls to a stop before Xavier climbs out. He spots me standing on the porch and hesitates. Not for long. Just enough to know he's trying to read me before he does anything.
He stops at the bottom of the steps while shoving his hands in his pockets. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I lean against the doorframe. “You made it here in four minutes.”
His brow furrows. “You called.”
Like that explains everything. Honestly, it does. I step back and pull the door open wider. “You coming in?”
“Yeah.” He slips past me, pausing inside while I close the door behind us. The house settles into silence. No television. No dishes. Just the soft hum of the refrigerator.
Neither of us says anything. He’s waiting for me to tell him why I called, waiting to find out if this conversation ends with another apology from him. Or another goodbye from me.
He adjusts his stance. “I’ve been thinking about what happened at–“
“Stop.” I raise my hand with my palm facing him.
He stops. Mid-sentence. Mid-breath. His eyes search mine.
I fold my arms loosely, studying him. “You don’t have to keep doing that.”
His forehead creases. “Doing what?”
“Starting every conversation like you’re about to apologize.”
His shoulders drop a fraction. “I’m trying not to screw this up again.”
The honesty in it pulls at something deep inside me.
“I know, and I appreciate it. But you don’t have to earn your way through every conversation anymore.”
He doesn’t answer. Just looks at me. Like he’s trying to decide whether he heard that. I smile. Small. Real. “You've already done the hard part.”
His voice is barely above a whisper. “I have?”
“You showed up. Every time. Not because you had to. Because you wanted to.”
His throat works once. “I’m not going to stop.”
“I know.” And I do. That’s the difference. I know.
His eyes never leave mine. Something inside them shifts. Hope. Careful. Fragile. Like he’s afraid to believe what he’s hearing.
I take one slow step toward him. Closing just enough of the distance to make my next words impossible to misunderstand. “There's something I need to tell you.”
His entire body stills. “I’m waiting to hear whatever you have to say.”
I take a steadying breath. Then another. This changes everything. “I love you.”