Chapter 20 #3
“There’s no world where I could stomach watching someone discredit you. Undermine what you’ve earned. You’re the fastest mind I’ve ever met, and I’d never forgive myself if being near me—being with me—dimmed that.”
Tears slip freely down my cheeks again—not from grief this time, but from the slow, almost excruciating realization that I’ve misunderstood him.
For months, I thought the distance between us was coldness.
Disdain, maybe. Or worse—disinterest wrapped in the guise of professionalism.
I assumed it was about him, his rules, his walls.
But it was never about protecting himself.
It was always about protecting me.
My success. My credibility. My future.
He kept himself at bay because he refused to risk the years of work it took to build something—for me. Because he wouldn’t let his own desire be the reason the work of a young woman in STEM was diminished or dismissed. Not in a world that’s been so quick, so eager, to do exactly that.
The thought nearly buckles me.
“But…” My voice catches, throat raw. “What do you want, Holden?”
He exhales, low and warm. I can feel the brush of it on my skin.
“Don’t,” I say, leaning closer. “Don’t say it doesn’t matter.”
He looks at me then—really looks—and the ache in his eyes is devastating. Then his hands come up, strong and steady, cupping my face like I’m something fragile he isn’t sure he’s allowed to want.
“Trouble,” he says, the word full of reverence and ruin, “I’ve wanted you since the first moment you challenged me in class.
Every time you argued a point, every time you smiled in the hallway, you made it harder to keep my distance.
Off campus? It was hell. Every second was me losing the fight not to reach for you. ”
The edges of my heart thrum so loudly I swear the sound is real.
“I know I should’ve told you,” he says, voice thick. “But it’s like… you short-circuit the part of my brain responsible for good decisions. Or words. Or basic human logic. I wanted to say something, I did—”
“After the café,” I whisper, the pieces clicking into place. His missed opportunity. My confusion. The quiet that followed.
He nods, and his thumbs trace over my cheekbones with a tenderness that undoes me completely.
“You’re my weakness,” he says. “The best one I’ve ever had. And I’m sorry it took me this long to say it out loud.”
My whole chest contracts. I can’t breathe through it, don’t want to. I lean into his touch, grab a fistful of his henley, and tug him closer.
He doesn’t hesitate.
His lips find mine like they’ve been waiting years, not months. He groans against my mouth, low and guttural, and the sound shoots straight through me. His hands slide into my hair, anchoring me, his body folding around mine like he’s finally letting himself fall.
And gosh, I fall with him.
I don’t know how long we kiss. All I know is that every inch of me remembers where his fingers lingered, every part of my mouth still tender from the press of his lips and the slow, devastating exploration of his tongue. I feel wrecked. Swollen. And somehow more whole than I’ve been in weeks.
He’s the one who finally pulls back, breath unsteady, pupils blown wide. His dark chocolate eyes have turned molten—whiskey, not coffee now.
“Trouble,” he says, voice low and still laced with that heat. “Me telling you all of this… it doesn’t change the fact that being seen with me could change things for you. People will talk. They’ll assume. They’ll judge.”
I nod. I already know.
He hesitates, his brow creasing. “I just… I can’t be responsible for that.”
“Dr. Kymbert told me something similar,” I say quietly. “Before we left the islands. Her version of it was… worse, honestly. She said women have to fit into neat little boxes to succeed. That we don’t get the luxury of missteps.”
He flinches at the words. Actually flinches.
“She said that?”
I nod. “She did. But, Holden, tell me something.” I take a breath. “Have you ever touched me without asking?”
He shakes his head. “No. Never.”
“And have you ever pushed something my way that I didn’t want?”
“Of course not.”
“And you’ve never, not once, used your position to benefit me unfairly, or stepped in to shape my work, have you?”
“Coralie,” he says, firm. “I would never do that.”
“Exactly,” I say. “So why should the perception of others matter more than the truth? Why let them write the story when we already know how it ends?”
His mouth opens, closes. I can tell he wants to protect me. That it’s killing him not to.
“I want the work to speak so loudly,” I say, “that no amount of gossip can drown it out. I want my results, my publications, my data sets, to be the only thing anyone can talk about when they say my name.”
He’s quiet.
“And I get that it won’t be easy,” I continue. “Women in STEM don’t get easy. But I’m not here for that. I’m here to be extraordinary.”
He’s still watching me like he’s not sure whether to hold me tighter or let me run.
“But,” I say again, lifting my chin. “If you want me to walk away, I will. Just say it. Tell me you don’t want this. That you don’t want me. And I’ll let it go.”
He doesn’t hesitate this time.
“I can’t say that, Trouble.”
“Because you want me.”
His eyes burn into mine. “Because I crave you. You’re in my head every minute of every day. You’re it, for me.”
I can’t help the grin that tugs at my lips. “Then trust me to handle the rest. Trust that I can survive the whispers. The looks. The subtle undermining. I’ve already lived through worse.”
He searches my face, like he’s looking for cracks I don’t have. “Men can be cruel,” he says, voice low. “They’ll try to take what you’ve earned and twist it into something ugly.”
“I know.” I smile wider. “But I’m stubborn. And I owe it to Damon to become the greatest cephalopod researchist the world’s ever seen.”
That does it. Something softens in his face. The resistance melts into something warmer—pride, maybe. Or awe. Maybe both.
He leans in and kisses me, slow and tender. The kind of kiss that says he finally, finally agrees with me.
“Are you sure?” he murmurs against my lips.
I nod. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
“Then I’m with you,” he says. “Every damn step of the way.”
And when he smiles—God, when he smiles—it’s like the sun found a way to live in his face. It lights him up from the inside out. He looks boyish and bright and so heartbreakingly beautiful I can’t do anything but pull him back to me again.