Ungullible

Chapter 24: Joy

When I could breathe again, he gently eased me back, his hands still resting at my arms as though he wasn't ready to let go completely. His eyes searched mine, tender but uncertain, like he was afraid I might disappear if he blinked.

"Come," he said softly, guiding me toward the couch.

We sank down together, the weight of everything we'd just confessed lingering in the quiet around us. My hand still clutched at his, needing that tether, and he didn't pull away. Instead, his thumb traced small, absent circles against my skin; comforting, grounding.

For a while, neither of us spoke. The silence between us had changed. It wasn't cold anymore; it was warm, filled with everything we no longer had to hide.

Finally, I whispered, "I didn't know you felt unworthy. Not you. Not ever."

He gave a small, humourless laugh, shaking his head. "I hid it well. I thought if I stayed quiet, if I focused on everything else, I could keep those feelings buried. But every time I looked at you..." His voice softened, breaking. "Every time, I wanted more than I had the right to."

I squeezed his hand, tears prickling again, but gentler now. "You never had to earn a right to me, Jason. You just had to be here."

His gaze softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his lips curved into a faint, real smile. He leaned his head back against the couch, still holding my hand tightly.

"Then I'll be here," he murmured. "For as long as you'll let me."

I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder. His warmth, his steady presence, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, it was everything I'd been aching for.

And in that fragile, quiet moment, it felt like we had finally found the beginning of something we both thought we'd lost.

The stillness between us lingered, fragile and warm, until the sharp trill of Jason's phone broke through. We both flinched, reality tugging us back from the cocoon we'd built.

Jason glanced at the screen. His expression shifted, regret flickering across his face. "It's my uncle."

He answered, his voice low but steady. "Yes, Uncle... I'm still at home." A pause, then a faint wince. "I know. I'll be there soon."

When he hung up, he sighed heavily, raking a hand through his hair. "I was supposed to meet them at the church. They're waiting."

The ache of disappointment tugged at me, but I stayed quiet, watching him gather himself. He turned to me, his gaze soft but urgent, like he wanted to etch this moment into memory before leaving.

"I have to go, Novie," he said gently. "But listen to me." He reached for my hand again, his grip warm, sure. "Be patient with me. I'll be back. This..." he gave my fingers a light squeeze, " isn't the end of what we started today."

My chest tightened, a mix of longing and hope. I nodded, blinking against the tears that threatened again.

"I'll be here," I whispered.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, one that carried both promise and ache. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine for the briefest, tender moment before pulling away.

And then he was gone, leaving the room quieter than before but no longer empty. His presence lingered, along with the promise that this time, he would come back.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence rushed back like a wave crashing over me. I stood frozen in the middle of the room, my arms wrapped around myself, trying to hold on to the warmth of his embrace.