Chapter 20 #4
"I let you walk out because you looked at me like I was a cage, Alex," she said, her composure finally cracking. Her voice trembled, just a fraction. "I saw the way you pulled away in that kitchen. I saw the panic in your eyes. I thought... I thought I was protecting you by letting you go."
"I wasn't panicked because of you," I said, my voice cracking. "I was panicked because I realised I didn't want to leave. And that scared the shit out of me."
The silence that followed wasn't cold anymore. It was heavy, vibrating with everything we didn't say that morning. Dr. Carter reached out, her hand hovering in the air between us for a second before she finally rested her palm against my cheek. Her skin was warm, grounding me instantly.
"You are a very difficult woman, Alex," she breathed, her thumb tracing my lower lip.
"I know," I murmured, leaning into her touch. "But I'm your difficult woman. If you'll still have me."
I felt a wave of genuine fucking nausea roll over me.
I had spent my whole life being the one in control, the one who left before things got heavy, and then I was standing there exposed, vibrating with a set of emotions I didn't have a manual for.
My heart actually ached when she pulled her hand away, the loss of her touch feeling like a physical blow.
I couldn’t read her. Those dark eyes were a storm I couldn’t navigate, and for a second, I was terrified I had just walked back into this building only to be rejected properly this time. Fuck I was an idiot.
Dr. Carter’s gaze shifted to her office door for a heartbeat, her expression unreadable, before she looked back at me. The formidable, ice-cold professor was gone. In her place was someone who looked just as fragile as I felt.
"I—Alex," she started, her voice catching. She took a breath, steadying herself. "I haven't done this before, either."
I froze, my breath hitching in my throat.
"I have spent years perfecting the art of being untouchable," she said, her words slow and heavy with honesty.
"My life is built on boundaries and professional distance.
But this weekend... I let my guard down with you.
I let you in, and seeing you standing in my kitchen this morning, looking like you couldn't wait to escape...
" She shook her head, a bitter smile touching her lips. "It scared me, too. It terrified me."
I took a step toward her, the space between us feeling like a live wire. "You were scared?"
"Terrified," she whispered. "I didn't know how to be the person you saw in the dark and the person who has to stand at that podium.
So I retreated. I went back to what I knew—the silence, the distance.
I thought if I made myself cold again, I could pretend the last forty-eight hours were just... an indulgence. Like you said."
She looked at me then, her gaze searching mine, raw and pleading. "But then I saw you with her in that hall. I saw you leave with her. And I realised that pretending it didn't happen was significantly more painful than the fear of letting it continue."
I reached out, my hand trembling as I found hers. This time, I didn't let her pull away. I laced our fingers together, squeezing tight. "So we're both idiots," I murmured, a shaky laugh escaping me. "Two terrified idiots."
"It would appear so," she said, a flicker of that familiar, elegant warmth returning to her eyes as she stepped back into my space.
I looked at her, my voice barely a breath. "So... what do we do now?"
Dr. Carter let out a soft sigh, her shoulders dropping as she offered a helpless shrug. "I don’t know."
A shaky laugh bubbled up in my chest, and I had to bite my lip to keep it back.
It was absurd. She was one of the most brilliant minds I had ever met, a woman who had an answer for every complex economic theory on the planet, and there we were; both of us completely stumped by the most basic human emotion.
Then, she smiled. Not the tight, professional curve she gave the lecture hall, but the real one—the one that radiated heat and made my knees feel like they had turned to water.
Just as quickly as it appeared, she pulled herself back together.
The "Professor" mask wasn't fully back, but her focus was.
She stepped away, her eyes flickering toward the office door as she began to efficiently pack her things.
She slid her laptop into her bag and draped her coat over her arm, the movement graceful and sharp.
Without looking at me, a tiny smirk played on her lips. "Pick up your bag, Alex."
I blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden change in gear. "What?"
She walked to the door and pulled it open, the hallway beyond quiet and dimly lit. She paused, looking back at me over her shoulder with an impatient, playful tilt of her head. "Come on," she sighed, though there was a definite spark in her eyes that wasn't there ten minutes before.
I was so caught off guard that I practically tripped over my own feet. I scrambled to grab my backpack, swinging it over my shoulder with zero grace, and bolted toward the door to follow her before she could change her mind.
Whatever this was, and wherever we were going, I wasn’t fucking letting her out of my sight again.