He pulls away from me, and I feel the loss of his warmth, the loss of our connection as he hauls himself to the edge of the bed and averts his gaze. His head hangs heavy, his back muscles rippling with tension as he drags a hand through his hair.

“I can’t.” His choked response invokes a renewed combination of anger and heartache.

“Why?” I demand. “Why, Lawson? Fucking tell me.”

“Because goddammit.” He turns to look at me, eyes filled with a fire he’s never let me see. “I fucking love you, Mercedes. Can’t you understand that?”

Those words tear through my armor, lodge deep in my heart, and fragment as I release another quiet sob. This one is something else entirely.

“You love me?”

“Yes,” he rumbles. “I fucking love you. I have loved you… longer than you could ever know. You’re carrying my babies. I’m inside you. And I can’t let you go. I won’t apologize for it. If you want Clifton, that’s too goddamn bad because it’s not happening—”

“Then why?” I cut him off.

His eyes move over my face, searching. “Why what?”

“Why won’t you let yourself have me?”

He turns away then, shielding his emotions while he processes them. When he does finally respond, his voice is so brittle, it’s barely audible.

“Because the thought of losing you for good fucking paralyzes me. And if I fuck it up, when I fuck it up, I know I won’t survive that loss.”

His words stun me into silence, and at the same time, they confuse me. All this time, this is what he’s been afraid of? He’s keeping me away to protect himself from something he’s already doing to himself? To both of us.

“You’ve already pushed me away,” I tell him. “How is that any different?”

His head dips in defeat. “It’s not. I thought it would be if I was controlling when or how it happened, but it’s not any different. You’re too good to be real. It’s impossible to allow myself to think, even for a second, that I could actually have something like this. But I can’t let you go either. I’ve tried. Fuck, I have tried.”

I sit up and move to him slowly, terrified he might flee at any moment. But he doesn’t. Even when he feels my hands wrap around him from behind, my lips pressing against a scar on his naked back. A scar he bore for me.

“Lawson?”

He shivers beneath my touch, and I grab his face, turning him to look at me. His eyes are soft and vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen, and I know something has shifted. This isn’t a fleeting glance. He’s giving me the key, unlocking himself, and he’s letting me in.

“I love you too,” I whisper.