“Morning, sweetness.” His voice is still rough from sleep. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah.”
The lie tastes bitter the moment it leaves my mouth. From the way he tilts his head, he caught it. His sharp eyes flicker over my face as he reads me in that way he always does. “What’s wrong?”
“I was thinking about moving back to my place this week,” I manage to get out, tightening the bathrobe around me.
“Why?” His entire body stiffens as his fingers tighten around the counter, the muscles in his arms flexing as if he’s trying to hold himself back. “Why do you want to leave me?”
I swallow hard. “I miss my own space. I miss being alone and having room to think. Not second-guessing myself every second because I’m scared of what you’ll think about the way I am.”
“You think I’m judging you?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you meant.” His voice hardens. “You’re scared, so you’re pulling away before you can feel anything real.”
I wince, but he doesn’t let up.
“Haisley, I’m not going anywhere. I meant it when I said I’m here for all of it. For you. For the baby. Even when you keep trying to push me out.” He drags a hand across his face, frustrated. “We can’t unmake what’s already happening. Running back to your place won’t change it.”
His words press against every vulnerable part of me. I square my shoulders, trying to hold myself together. “I’m not running. I just need space to breathe.”
Rasmus lets out a rough laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re not running? Then what the hell do you call this? You’ve got one foot out the door, Haisley.” He shakes his head. “Why is it always one step forward, two steps back with you?”
I open my mouth but don’t have a satisfactory answer for him. At least, not one that would make sense. Not one I’m ready to say out loud.
“I honestly don’t know,” I whisper my truth.
He stands there, motionless, waiting for me to take my words back. When I don’t, his shoulders drop. Not in defeat, but in something heavier. Something close to resignation.
His gaze falls away from mine, settling on the two untouched coffee mugs on the counter. “I’m still here even when you’d rather I wasn’t.”
“I don’t want you gone.”
“Doesn’t feel like it, if I’m being honest.”
My fingers twitch at my sides, wanting to reach for him but freezing halfway. “I’m trying. I don’t always know how to be vulnerable. Not after being burned so many times in the past.”
“I’m not them. I’m not going to leave because you’re scared and shutting me out. But I can’t stand here begging you to believe it every damn day, either.”
I blink hard against the sting behind my eyes. My throat feels too tight to speak, so I don’t.
“You know, you’re not the only one trying to figure this out,” he adds, quieter this time. “I’m still learning too. I’ve let people walk all over me. I let her…” His voice falters for a second, but he clears it. “I let my ex convince me I was only good for providing the WAG life she wanted. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t want to experience feeling so worthless again.”
“I don’t want to ever hurt you the way she did,” I murmur, my voice cracking around the truth. “But I’m terrified of screwing us up anyway.”
“Me too.”
For the first time in this whole conversation, there’s no sharp edge to his voice. Just quiet honesty.
A long silence stretches between us, filled only by his fingers tapping anxiously against the counter. His walls aren’t as high as mine, but I know they’re there. I’ve seen the way his mouth tightens when old wounds rise to the surface, the way he changes the subject or brushes it off with humor before anyone can look too closely.
“I’m not trying to make you feel like you’re not enough,” I say quietly. “The last thing I want is to be her or anyone who ever made you doubt your worth.”
“And I don’t want to be another person who makes you think people always leave.”
He steps closer, cautious but steady, like he’s approaching a wounded animal that might bolt.
