“No.” The panic surging through my chest is almost enough to choke me, closing my throat and making each breath a struggle. My heart crashes painfully against my ribs like it’s trying to escape, to break out of my body and find a way back to the woman who’s claimed it. “Not until you tell me why. You owe me that much.”

She flinches, sucking in a quiet breath as her shoulders curve inward. Her fingers twist around the hem of her shirt as her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I don’t… I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“What I deserve?” I repeat, shaking my head. I reach for her hand, then stop midway through the gesture when she shrinks back. I freeze, lowering my voice as raw truth pours from my lips. “Hannah, all I want is you. Just you.”

A sob escapes her, soft and broken. It rips through the room like a physical force, the only sound in the eerily quiet space. She presses a hand to her mouth as if trying to force it back in, closing her eyes and taking a shuddering breath. “Don’t say that. Please.”

Something desperate takes over. I slide from the couch, my knees hitting the carpet as I kneel before her. I take her cold hands in mine, feeling the slight tremble in her fingers. Her skin is ice-cold despite the warmth of the apartment, and I wish like hell that I could fix whatever did this to her.

“Please don’t do this.” My voice is a hoarse rasp. “Whatever you’re afraid of, whatever you’re going through—let me help you. Let me be there for you.”

When she tries to pull away, I tighten my grip, clasping her hand between both of mine. “Hannah, please. Talk to me.”

“I can’t,” she whispers brokenly. Tears drip from her chin onto our joined hands. “I’m so sorry, Declan. I’m so sorry.”

The finality in her voice cuts through me like a knife. An awful feeling of numbness begins to spread from my chest outward, as if my body is shutting down in self-defense. I wrap my arms around her waist, burying my face against her lap. Her jeans are soft against my cheek, and I can feel the warmth of her body radiating into mine. Her delicate frame is wracked by silent sobs, but her hands remain still at her sides, not stroking my hair or reaching for me the way they usually would.

“Please,” I whisper against her thigh, my voice hoarse. “Please don’t do this. Whatever it is, we can handle it together.”

For what feels like hours, we remain frozen like that—me clinging to her as she cries silently above me. The only sounds in the room are our ragged breaths and Ralph’s occasional meow from the kitchen doorway, as if the cat senses something irreparably broken.