Page 120 of Heart Over Heels

“Bothof you,” Darby clarified.

He snatched my credit card from the tray the waitress held and thrust it at me. “I’ll reverse the charges. I don’t want money or anything else from you.”

I stared at the card then at him, realizing too late that what he was actually returning wasn’t plastic at all. It was everything I’d given him: trust, hope, and the pieces of myself he’d so beautifully held together.

He made me feel whole.

Did he know that?

Should I say?

“I love you.”

I heard it, spoken in my own voice, too late to take back.

Not that.

God, not that. Not now.

Darby gaped at me, jaw slack and orange eyes wide. Then his tail drooped. Its barbed tip dragged the floor as he stood there, holding out the credit card.

I didn’t apologize this time because I wasn’t sorry at all. I simply held my ground while Darby drew an unsteady breath.

“Don’t,” he said, voice barely holding. “Don’t do that.”

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t a tactic, it wasn’t manipulation, it was just one final truth, something I owed him—but the look on his face stopped me cold.

“You need to go,” he said again, firmer now. “Please, Mercer. Just go.”

Thepleasegutted me more than the rest.

Beside us, the waitress shifted uncertainly. Her cheap costume horns tilted as she lingered, caught in the crossfire.

Finally, Darby acknowledged her and jerked his chin toward the door.

“We won’t be needing the drinks,” he said.

She bolted.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then I stepped forward and took the card from his hand. Our fingers brushed, and a tremor passed from him to me.

There was nothing left to say, so I pocketed the useless bit of plastic and turned toward the door. My reflection ghosted across the glass wall as I passed.

Outside, the music hit me like a slap. I stood on the catwalk, feeling the world move past, and then I let it carry me away.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FIVE

Darby

I was too tired to deal with this.

Too exhausted to think straight or breathe without feeling like I was suffocating. Maybe even too tired to hear correctly, because I’d be damned if Mercer, the Marine with the unshakable stare and the battle scars to match, had actually told me he loved me.

Right after I told him to get out.

It was asinine, ill-timed, and reckless in a way I couldn’t afford to be. I’d built my life on control, and this was chaos. The kind of madness that cracked foundations and threatened to flood every carefully sealed room inside me.