Panting, I struggle with the barbell, my left arm threatening to give out with every tense passing second. When I finally manage to replace the bar on the rack, I lie back on the bench, gasping for breath.

My arms shake, my chest heaves, sweat drips down my forehead, and I’ve pushed myself harder than ever before.

I still don’t feel better.

No amount of punishment I force my body through will rewind time or give me a chance to fix things with Taylor.

When I was younger, I had wanted with all my heart to defend my country, and no line of defence stood stronger than the Navy SEALs. They put themselves in danger deliberately, time and time again, to destroy threats before they ever neared Americans or American soil. I didn’t just want to be strong—I needed to be, because how else could I protect the people I loved?

Never, not even once, had it occurred to me that no amount of physical strength on my part could protect those around me from myself.

I can hold Taylor in my arms. I can make myself big and strong and threatening and drive away anyone who bothered her. I can even untangle an expensive shoe on a priceless foot.

But I can’t keep myself from breaking Taylor’s heart.

It had taken me about ten seconds after Taylor ran out of House of Stars to realize what I’d done. Dating a dancer might— might— hurt my reputation. Dating Taylor will definitely give me the kind of happiness money and reputation never will.

I weighed a distant possibility that could make things harder for me against a certainty that already makes my life better, and I chose to plan for the possibility.

What kind of dumbass am I?

“Are you finished with that bench, man?” A face sporting a full beard hovers over me inquisitively.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” I stand up, grimacing just a little as my quads scream angry reminders of the squats I’ve done. “One sec.” A few quick wipes with one of the disinfectant towelettes, and I surrender the bench press to the man.

I’m so considerate. The sarcastic thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

Oh well. Maybe I’ve worked myself into an exhaustion that will let me catch a few hours of sleep.

On the way home from the gym, I toss my phone restlessly up and down in one hand. When I get home, I take a shower, wrap a towel around my waist, pick up my phone, and set it down again. After dinner, I glance at my phone on the table and reach for it before I snatch my hand back. As I lie down in bed and click the charger into the port, I stare at the prompt to enter the pin, but I just drop the thing on the nightstand.

Taylor doesn’t want to talk to me. I pretty much told her straight up that her dream means we can’t be together. Nothing about the way I acted yesterday entitles me to any kind of explanation.

Is it too late to pick up and start over in another city again?

My bodily exhaustion, mental depression, and shattered soul finally drag me into sleep’s welcome embrace. I oversleep and find that the speed with which I’m forced to get ready to go to House of Stars prevents me from thinking too much, although not from reaching for my phone twice.

Feelings aren’t like thoughts. Busyness doesn’t make those go away, so the sick pointing fingers of guilt and regret follow me no matter how fast I move through my daily motions.

“Have you seen Taylor?” I ask Isabel, the first face I see that belongs to someone who might know where she is. Since I can’t quit my job at House of Stars, I’ll do the one thing I can still do for Taylor—remove myself from sight and sound so she doesn’t have to deal with my presence.

“She’s supposed to be here, but she clearly isn’t,” Isabel sniffs. “Although I suppose I can’t blame her since Cullen is her ride.”

I want to bristle in her defence (Of course Taylor isn’t to blame, she doesn’t have faults, just people around her that ruin her life), but I just slink upstairs before she arrives. I have work to do up here, and the accountants have no reason to go upstairs.

Throughout the day, I make it my personal mission not to demolish Taylor’s life any more than I have already. Staying upstairs out of sight works perfectly, and I can easily get everything else done on her off days.

After an entire workday spent alone upstairs, I slowly gather my tools, resisting the urge to clutch at my chest. Somewhere in the course of the day, my heartache has become a tangible thing.

Every day since I took this job at House of Stars and saw Taylor, I looked for her, hoping to catch her walking nearby so I could smile and see her face light up in return. I listened for her voice, straining to catch words or even just her intonations.

I’ve never felt more alone than I do right now. Understanding of how much Taylor’s very presence meant to me for the past couple weeks has finally hit me, and my very bones want to crumble now that she’s gone.

My watch hands point to a time of 6:45 PM. There’s no way Taylor is still here, so it’s safe for me to leave.

Maybe I’ll go to the gym again. My biceps aren’t sore, which means I didn’t try hard enough with my full-body workout yesterday.

There’s just one little hitch in my plans.

Taylor is leaning against my truck.

I’m so stunned that I can’t even greet her or say her name, so I just stare.

“Hey,” she says finally, scuffing her heel against the ground.

“Hey,” I manage to respond. Shaking fingers threaten to give out on the handle of the black bag I’m holding, so I set it down.

“Hey.” She shakes her head, cheeks pinking as she realizes she already said that. “So I—uh—I was thinking.”

I’ll go purple if I keep taking these shallow breaths.

“I got—I got kind of angry yesterday, and I didn’t listen to what you had to say. I still barely even know what I’m doing here, so just—” She takes a breath, clearly fighting to stay calm. “So just talk, okay?”

A vortex opens in my mind and sucks away my ability to speak. Taylor is here, offering me another chance—no, a chance to explain that I’m worthy of another chance. I’m not ready, I can’t figure out how to voice the regrets and explanations that have plagued my mind since that moment in House of Stars.

It’s the realization that I actually feel faint that finally fumbles around my mind and drags out some thoughts that aren’t oh God, oh shit, what do I say, last chance, last chance, last chance.

I just need to do one thing: Use. My. Brain.

And just like that, I once again remember the English language.

“You mean more to me than any reputation, professional or personal.” I look right into her eyes, because if she doesn’t believe the titanic effort I’m putting into showing the sheer depth of my sincerity, I might just crumble into dust right here. “I thought I meant what I said. I was so afraid of trusting my feelings toward you that I couldn’t think, but now I know how I feel. Taylor, I want you to be exactly who you are and do exactly what you want, because you’re perfect no matter what you do. You’re beautiful and talented and smart, and I don’t want you to change what you love or who you are.”

My earnestness carries me toward her. “I almost let myself make the same mistake I made all those years ago. I’ve been down the road of trying to impress people, and I’m really, truly done with that path now. All I can do is be myself and follow my heart.” Softly, I add, “You’ve shown me that.”

Taylor receives the most heartfelt words I’ve ever spoken, but she doesn’t react beyond rubbing her eyes once or twice. “I have to go. Gemma and Cullen are waiting for me.”

Every step Taylor takes away from me crushes my heart, pounding it underneath her heels until nothing is left, not even dust. I failed. Again. She gave me a chance, but honesty wasn’t enough to sway her heart after how much I hurt her.

When I start my car, a little voice calls inside me. By the time I get home, the fucking thing is screaming its lungs out and scrabbling rents into the walls of my heart. I can’t breathe, but I don’t want to anyway.

I pick up my phone. I can’t go to House of Stars again. Cullen needs to know. But before I can touch the green call button, my phone vibrates in my hand. There’s a name I never expected to see again on the call screen.

Taylor.

My hands shake and my thumb fails to flick the ‘answer’ button twice, but I finally manage it.

“Meet me at House of Stars tomorrow after work.”

Maybe nothing can ever truly be destroyed beyond repair.