Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Yeah… given the fact she came close to dying, it was a logical—”
“Assumption,” he cuts in over me. “After everything she’d been through, you walked in there and told her who she was going to be now.” He pauses, leveling me a hard look. “I’m just curious how you’d feel if someone dictated your emotions to you.”
“Ouch,” I mutter, the truth of his words slicing deep. “Regardless of how it went down, she’s not going to change and that’s a problem. She’s going to walk back into the next story and the one after that, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life worrying about her.”
“Yes,” Malik says simply. “You are.”
I frown, tilting my head as if I didn’t hear him right. “I am?”
“If she’s the one,” he says with gentleness, “that’s what it costs. The fear doesn’t go away. You just decide what you’re going to do with it. You decide how important it is for you to have that love, and you figure out how to fucking deal with it.” He glances at Anna’s photo on his desk. “I know a little about that.”
I don’t say anything.
“It’s astounding to me that a man of your skills, bravery and knowledge would ever let fear dictate his happiness,” Malik says simply.
My frown deepens. I’m almost… offended that he would question my strength of character. But deep down, I know he’s broken this into its simplest form: I’m letting my fear of losing Tessa in a very particular way force the ultimate demise of my relationship with her.
And thus… I’m losing her anyway.
The office is very quiet as I mull this over. I mean, it’s not a huge revelation. I’ve always known that it’s my choice to walk away and I understand the cost. I accepted the pain of losing her by making the decision to walk away. What I was banking on was that the pain would be less. “If I lose Tessa by my choice versus having someone else take her from me, I thought it would be more bearable,” I finally admit, my eyes lifting to meet Malik’s.
“And how’s that working out for you?” he asks glibly.
“Not all that well,” I grumble, running a hand through my hair.
“You can’t hold on so tight that you suffocate the best parts,” Malik says. “You know that.” He taps a finger on his desk. “The question isn’t whether you can keep her safe. You can’t. Not always. Not completely. The question is whether you can live with that and love her anyway or whether you’re going to let the fear make the decision for you.”
Yeah… it’s as simple as that, and as of ten minutes ago, I thought I knew the answers to those questions. But Malik’s spin on my dilemma casts a different light.
I think about those thirty seconds in the tree line with Reid’s hand on my arm and Sully’s lock on my waist. I think about the door coming off its hinges under my boot.
I think about the hood coming off and her face underneath it and the way she grabbed my jacket with both hands and didn’t let go.
I think about her sitting across from me in her robe telling me This is who I am with that absolute bone-deep certainty that I have always loved and been terrified by in equal measure.
“I think you might be right,” I say quietly. “I’ve been holding on too tight and it’s cost me everything.”
Malik looks at me for a long moment. “Sounds like you answered the important question with the right answer.”
There’s a knock at the door and we both look up. It’s Reid, leaning in the doorway with his usual affable smile, though there’s an edge to it I can’t read.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, looking at me. “You’ve got a visitor at the front desk.”
“Who?”
Reid lifts a shoulder, his eyes glinting. “See for yourself.”
And I know who it is before I clear the chair.
I know because the frequency I’ve been tuned to for five years hasn’t gone quiet since I walked out her door. I come around the corner into the lobby and there she is.
Tessa.
Dark jeans, blue sweater just a shade darker than her eyes, hair down. Her left arm is in a soft sling for the shoulder. She’s standing with her right hand wrapped around the strap of her bag, eyes immediately locking with mine.
I cross the lobby and stop in front of her. “Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” I say.
“Can we—” She glances around at the handful of agents milling about but all watching us from the corner of their eyes. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“My apartment,” I say, leading her to the elevator rather than the stairs, mainly just to get eyes off us.
We ride up in silence and there’s a charge in the air. It speaks to everything we both need to say but are saving for the right venue.