The gulf between them now seemed like an actual barrier. It was a test. If she was adult enough, she would cross the chasm and apologize to him. But she held back, expecting him to say or do something. Anything. “And now I’m dressed like a thief because it’s appropriate,” she said, gesturing to her costume. “I’m also a fool. And I’m sorry.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“I’m sorry for not giving you credit,” Victoria tried. “I projected my insecurities onto you while making these weird demands. I hid behind my fear because...”

“Because our relationship wasn’t a haunted house,” he finished. “And taking the risk with me was too real.”

Ashamed, she ducked her head. He was right. The thrill of a haunted house was easy to walk through if it meant you could return to normal life. But for Victoria, normal life was dull and packed with rigid routine. There was no risk, no adventure, and more importantly, no way to get hurt. No, that wasn’t true. It was painful enough to stand in the same room as John and not be able to touch him.

“I find it scarier to be apart from you,” she admitted. “I’m unable to think of anything else when I’m not with you.” Her breath came out in a shallow burst of air. “I’m lost without you.”

He shifted his weight against the door, loosening his arms, just slightly, as his lips made a thin line. Victoria pulled herself away from the desk and ventured towards him. She kept her back straight and her voice steady as she approached him. “Last night, before I went to sleep, I told myself I would stop living a coward’s life. That I would stand up for what I believed in. I believe in you and me, John.”

John’s breathing changed.

Standing toe to toe with him, Victoria fought the urge to reach out and grab him. She needed to say her piece before she accidentally forced herself on him. “And I don’t think I’ve thanked you for believing in me when I’ve been busy trying to sabotage myself,” she said, glancing at his bearded face. Beneath it, she could see his jaw clench as if he were struggling with his own self-control.

He gave an imperceptible shake of his head and cleared his throat. “No,” he said.

“You told me that no man was in control of my destiny.” Victoria reached out and laid her hand on the center of his chest, fanning her fingers out against his warm skin. His heart was pounding. “I don’t think that’s true. I think, in many ways, you’re probably the key to my destiny.”