Page 26 of Angel
That hurts. But it’s the good kind. The kind that means there’s still somethin’ to fix. Carina asks us about our patterns. About what we do when things get hard. I answer honestly.
“I go silent,” I say. “Figure if I hold it steady, she’ll settle.”
“And what does that feel like to you?” Carina asks Stevie.
“Like I’m grieving alone,” she says quietly.
That one lands deep. We don’t leave with answers or miracles. No plan scribbled on a whiteboard. Just homework, to talk and really listen to what each other is saying. Don’t try to fix, instead try to understand. It feels small and impossible. It also feels like the first thing that ain’t about control.
When we step outside into the sun, Stevie exhales like she’s been holding her breath for weeks.
“I didn’t hate it,” she says.
I chuckle softly. “Low bar.”
She bumps her shoulder into mine. “Thank you for comin’.”
“Thank you for lettin’ me.”
On the drive home, she rests her hand on my thigh. Not because she needs reassurance. Just because she wants to. And that difference? It’s everything.
That night, I sit on the edge of the bed while she changes into one of my old shirts.
“Hey,” I say.
She looks up. “I’m scared too.”
She tilts her head slightly. “Of what?”
“Of not bein’ enough. Of you decidin’ you need somethin’ I can’t give.”
She steps closer. “You’re not the problem, Angel.”
“Feels like I am sometimes.”
She reaches up and cups my jaw. “You’re the reason I’m still here.”
“I don’t want to fix you,” I say quietly. “I just want to understand.”
Her eyes soften. “That’s enough.”
That night we climb into bed, without the expectations and schedule. Just closeness. I wrap an arm around her waist and let myself relax into the fact that she’s here. Still here. And for the first time in a long while, I realize something important:
I don’t have to be the man who carries everything. I just have to be the man who stays.
The man who listens.
The man who says he’s scared instead of pretending he ain’t.
And that?
That feels like strength I can actually live with.
We’re not fixed. Not even close. But we showed up. We spoke. We listened. And as I press a kiss into her hair and let sleep finally take me, I know this road ain’t about winning. It’s about walking it side by side. And I’m not lettin’ go.
Chapter Nine
Stevie
