Her eyes flick up to mine, soft but guarded.I keep talking because I can’t stop. “And if you need to know…about Claire, I’ll tell you. I will. I just…I didn’t want to dump that on you. I didn’t want you to think…to think that I’m still holding on to that, because I’m not.”
Ivy blinks, her expression almost stunned. I can feel my hands shaking. I press them to my thighs to still them, but it doesn’t work. My breath is ragged, and I don’t even care if she sees.
“I’m not trying to make you something you’re not,” I say, voice cracking on the last word. “I don’t want to lose you. I…I can’t lose you.”
Her eyes glisten, and she looks away, pressing her lips together. I feel like I’m free-falling, scrambling for something to hold on to, but there’s nothing but air. Nothing but the fragile silence between us.
“Ivy?” My voice is barely above a whisper now.
Her eyes flick back to mine, and I catch it—just a flicker of pain. She scoots forward, bridging the gap, her hand reaching out to brush a tear from my cheek. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. Her touch is soft, grounding, and it nearly breaks me.
She leans in, wrapping her arms around me, and I fold into it, clutching her like she might disappear. Her chin rests on my shoulder, her hands gentle against my back.
“I’m not leaving you,” she whispers, and my breath shudders out in relief. “But…”
My arms tense. “But?”
She pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. Her hands stay on my shoulders, her gaze steady. “I need space, Gray.”
I swallow hard, the words hitting like a punch. “Space?”
Her nod is slow, deliberate. “I need to figure out…all of this. What I believe. What I want. What I’m actually ready for.” She pauses, her eyes glassy but determined. “I don’t want to pretend, not for you, not for anyone.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My mind scrambles for the right thing to say, the thing that will fix this. But there’s nothing. There’s just the truth of her words, hanging heavy between us.
“I don’t want to hold you back,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “And I don’t want to fake faith just to fit into your world. You deserve more than that.”
My hands find hers again, clasping tightly. “I don’t want more, Ivy. I just want you.”
Her eyes well with tears, and she gently pulls her hands free from mine, pressing them to her chest like she’s holding herself together. “I want to want that too,” she says, her voice cracking. “But right now…I just don’t know.”
A tear slips down her cheek, and I reach to brush it away, but she stands, wrapping her arms around herself instead. The space between us feels like a canyon, and I can do nothing but watch her.
“I need to find out who I am with God before I can figure out who I am with you,” she says, her voice stronger this time.
My throat burns. My hands feel empty. “And you think you can’t do that…with me?”
She hesitates, then shakes her head slowly. “I think I have to do it alone.”
Her words cut deeper than I expect, and I flinch back, nodding even though everything inside me is screaming. “Okay,” I choke out. “If that’s what you need.”
She bites her bottom lip, her eyes searching mine. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I force a smile, even though it feels like mychest is caving in. “You do what you need to do. I’ll still be here.”
Her breath catches, and for a second, I think she might change her mind. But she doesn’t. Instead, she nods, her shoulders pulling back like she’s fortifying herself. “Thank you,” she whispers.
I manage a nod, even though everything in me wants to reach for her, pull her back, hold on. But I let her go.
I watch as she picks up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She pauses at the door, turning back one last time. “Bye, Gray.”
My jaw clenches, but I force the words out. “Bye, Ivy.”
And then she’s gone.
The door clicks shut behind her, and the silence settles back in. Heavy. Unyielding.
I stand there for a long time, staring at the door like she might walk back in. But she doesn’t.
