14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Jesse

I burst through the front door, my heart pounding with excitement. It's late, but I couldn't wait. I decided instead of calling or texting, I'd surprise Martin by just showing up and telling him what I realized tonight. "Martin!" I call out, unable to contain the joy bubbling up in my chest. "Martin, where are you? I need to talk to you!"

My eyes scan the living room, searching for him. That's when I see it. A packed suitcase sitting by the door.

The words die in my throat. My stomach drops. What the hell is going on here?

"Martin?" I call again, more hesitantly.

He appears from the hallway, his face a mix of emotions I can't read.

"Hi," he says, and his expression is unreadable.

I can't take my eyes off the bag. "What's… what is this? What's going on? Are you leaving?"

Martin follows my gaze, then looks back at me. He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I've come to recognize as a sign of nervousness. "I… I don't know. Maybe. I was thinking about it."

"Thinking about it?" My voice is weirdly high pitched. "What the hell? Why?"

He takes a deep breath. "I just assumed, Jesse. Your dinner with Andrew, and I didn't hear from you… I started thinking about all the ways this could go wrong."

I step closer to him, my heart aching. "Martin, I—"

"No, let me finish," he interrupts. "I've been so happy these past few weeks. Happier than I've been in years. And it's bloody terrifying. Because the last time I felt this way…"

"Richard," I finish for him.

He nods, his eyes glistening. "I don't know if I can go through that again, Jesse. I don't know if I'm strong enough."

I want to pull him into my arms, to tell him everything I realized during my dinner with Andrew. But I'm frozen, suddenly second-guessing everything I'd been so sure about only a few minutes ago.

I stare at Martin, my mind racing. He's packed his bags. He's ready to leave. Maybe I was wrong; maybe he doesn't feel the same way about me that I do about him. I want to grab him, pull him into me, hold him tight and tell him everything I feel.

But the crushing doubt has me paralyzed. Again. Maybe he needs space. Maybe I pushed too hard .

"Martin," I start, my voice wavering, "I… I didn't know you felt this way. I thought..." Jesus fuck . I stand there gaping at him, mute with shock at how incredibly badly this is going.

Everything seemed perfectly clear during dinner. And then, I spent the entire flight home imagining this amazing, romantic scene. I'd rush in the door, Martin would be thrilled to see me, we'd kiss, and I'd tell him all the things figured out. I'd tell him how much I love him, and how I've been letting all my stupid insecurities hold me back. I'd tell him that even though it seems fast, it doesn't matter, because I'm old enough to know what I want. And I want him. Forever. And just like that, we'd go on to live happily ever after. Or something like that.

Maybe I had it all wrong. Again.

His eyes widen slightly as I stand there, gawping at him like a fish, and a flash of something—hurt?—crosses his face before he quickly masks it.

"Maybe some space from each other would be best." His voice is low, and he shifts his gaze away from me, down to the suitcase sitting on the floor.

I want to scream that it's not what I want. That he can't go, because I love him, but the words stick in my throat.

Martin shifts his weight. "Maybe we rushed things," he says, his gaze skittering from his suitcase to the door and back again, looking anywhere but at me. "Maybe we need to take a step back." His voice sounds so far away.

I'm speechless, and the walls feel like they're closing in on me. I don't understand. How did we get here? My brain struggles to compute what's happening.

"I'll be in touch about the shelter," he says softly before picking up his suitcase and walking out the door.

The click of it closing behind him echoes through the empty house.

I have no idea how long I stand there, stuck dumb by my old friend, decision paralysis. But then I see a car pull up, and I watch as Martin starts to load his small bag into it, and something inside me snaps. Finally.

"What in the fuck am I doing?" I mutter, nearly ripping my front door off its hinges.. He's not leaving without hearing me out. If he wants to leave after that, fine, I can't control that. But I'm not going to just stand around and let it happen. I've been doing that for my entire life, and I'm fucking done. I am just done with letting life simply happen to me. Starting right now, I'm fighting for what I want. And what I want is the man who's getting into the back of a car, about to drive away from me.

"Wait!" I shout, racing across my front yard as fast as my legs will move.

I grab the car door, wrenching it back open just as Martin's about to close it. Without a second thought, I launch myself into the back seat, crawling onto his lap. His eyes widen in shock, but I don't give him a chance to react. I cradle his face in both hands, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

"Jesse, what—" Martin starts, but I cut him off.

"No! Shut up and listen to me," I bark, my voice surprisingly firm. "You don't get to walk away like this. Not without hearing what I have to say."

His hands come to rest on my hips, steadying me. His touch sends a jolt through my body, reminding me of all the reasons I can't let him go.

"I love you," I declare, my heart pounding so hard I can barely hear my own words. "I love you, and I'm not letting you leave because you're scared. I'm scared too, but I know what I want now. I want you."

His eyes search mine, a mix of hope and fear swirling in their depths. "Jesse, I—"

"No, let me finish," I insist, my thumbs still caressing his face. "I know you're afraid of losing me like you lost Richard. But Martin, I'm right here. I promise you I will be here for as long as the universe will let me. I'm not going anywhere. And I want to spend every day proving to you how much I love you.

I pause, catching my breath, my eyes never leaving his. The tension in the car is palpable, and I'm suddenly aware of the driver watching us in the rearview mirror.

"Look," I continue, lowering my voice, "No one knows how much time we have left. No one can promise they'll be together for the next hundred years, because we don't know if we get a hundred years. It could all be over tomorrow for me or for you, or for everyone on this planet, for all we know. But, fuck , isn't it better to spend the time we do have with the person we love? That's what I want, Martin. I spent all this time doubting myself. Telling myself that the things I knew about you couldn't possibly be true, that I couldn't be sure. But I was wrong because I've known ever since that night in Seattle. I love you. And I want to spend every fucking day that I have left on this Earth with you. I want to build something with you. A life. A love. The shelter. A family. All of it. I want everything I can get with you. And I won't give up. I'll never give up. I'll fight for you as long as I need to." My chest is heaving as the words pour out of me like water from a faucet.

Martin's hands tighten on my hips, and I feel a surge of hope. "Jesse," he starts, his voice rough with emotion, "What if—"

"What if nothing," I interrupt, shaking my head. "You know what I realized while I was sitting across from my ex-husband tonight? I realized that I'd be a fucking idiot to let this chance go. Sure, I loved Andrew once upon a time, and it didn't work out how I wanted. You loved Richard and it didn't work out how you wanted. So, what, we're just supposed to give up now? No! No way, fuck that." I press my forehead to his. "We've both been around long enough to know how rare this thing between us is. I refuse to let you walk away because you're scared, that's not a good enough reason. What we have is real. I feel it. You feel it. I'm done letting fear control my life, Martin. You should be, too."

Martin's breath hitches, and I place one of my hands on his chest, where his heart is slamming against his ribcage. "What if something happens to you?" he whispers, his vulnerability laid bare. "I don't know if I can bear losing someone I love again."

My heart swells.. He loves me too. "We can't predict the future," I say softly, brushing away a tear that's escaped down his cheek. "But I'd rather spend whatever time we have together than waste it being afraid."

I can see the battle raging within him as our eyes lock. Fear and hope are duking it out inside his heart as I hold my breath.

Finally, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "I love you too," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't fight it anymore. I love you so fecking much." His Irish accent is as strong as I've ever heard it.

I crush my mouth onto his, pouring every ounce of love I can into the kiss. His lips part beneath mine, and I deepen the kiss. Martin's hands slide up my back, pulling me closer, and I lose myself in the feeling of his body against mine. This perfect man that I love. He's mine.

Time stands still. The world fades away, and all that exists is Martin and me, here in this moment. I never want it to end.

Reality crashes back in when the driver clears his throat. Loudly.

I jump back, suddenly remembering where we are. Heat floods my cheeks as I meet the driver's amused gaze in the rearview mirror.

"Sorry," I mumble, but I can't keep the grin off my face.

The driver shakes his head, giving me a sunny smile. "Don't worry about it. This'll make a great story for Reddit later: ‘Y'all won't believe what happened in my back seat today…'"

All three of us burst out laughing, the tension in the car dissipating.

"Well," I say, still perched on Martin's lap, "I guess we should probably get out of your car now, huh?"

The driver winks at us. "Unless you two lovebirds want me to take you somewhere?"

I grin down at Martin. "You going anywhere, my love?"

"Never," he says, his green eyes twinkling. "Never again."