Alright, let’s keep this f***ing train rolling. Life with Gordon was just starting to get interesting.

A couple of weeks after Thanksgiving, things were feeling good. Too good, honestly. You know that weird feeling you get when things are going so smoothly you think, What’s gonna fuck it all up?* Yeah, that. Life’s a sneaky bitch like that.

Anyway, Gordon and I were sitting on his couch one Friday night, watching some dumb true-crime documentary. He was half asleep, leaning against me, while I was busy trying to figure out if the husband did it (spoiler: he totally did). My phone buzzed on the coffee table, and I ignored it. But then it buzzed again. And again.

“Popular tonight, huh?” Gordon mumbled, his eyes still half-closed.

“Yeah, probably just Sarah sending me TikToks of cats playing the piano,” I said, grabbing the phone. But when I looked at the screen, my stomach dropped.

It wasn’t Sarah. It was my ex, Mark.

Hey, Chase. Can we talk?
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.
I made a mistake leaving you.

I sat there staring at the messages like they were written in fucking hieroglyphics. What the hell was this? Mark had left me five years ago for some younger guy who took gym selfies and posted motivational quotes like, “Rise and grind.” It wasn’t a great breakup, to put it lightly. Now he was sliding back into my life like some sad, midlife-crisis cliché?

“What’s wrong?” Gordon asked, sitting up a little.

“Nothing,” I said, shoving the phone in my pocket. I didn’t want to ruin the night over some bulls*** text. But Gordon’s no idiot.

“Chase,” he said, his voice low and steady. “What’s going on?”

I sighed, pulling out the phone and showing him the messages. His face didn’t change much, but I could see the wheels turning.

“Ah,” he said finally. “Your ex is having a come-to-Jesus moment.”

“Looks like it.” I paused, then added, “It’s not like I’m gonna text him back or anything. That ship sailed, hit an iceberg, and sank to the fucking bottom.”

Gordon didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back and crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. And that’s when I realized this was about more than some stupid texts.

“Gordon,” I said carefully, “you don’t actually think I’d—”

“No,” he cut me off. “I don’t think you’d do anything. But I’ve been where you are. It’s not always easy to ignore ghosts from your past.”

He wasn’t wrong, and that pissed me off. Not at him—at the situation. The truth was, Mark had been a big part of my life. I didn’t love him anymore, but that didn’t mean his sudden reappearance didn’t stir up old shit I thought I’d buried.

“You’re right,” I admitted. “It’s not easy. But I’m not interested in going backward. I’m here, with you. And I don’t want to fuck that up.”

Gordon’s eyes softened, and he reached over to squeeze my hand. “Good. Because if you did, I’d kick your bald ass.”

I laughed, the tension breaking like a goddamn dam. “Fair enough.”

But of course, the universe wasn’t done screwing with me. A few days later, Mark showed up at the school.

I was in the middle of grading papers in the teacher’s lounge when I saw him standing outside the window. At first, I thought I was hallucinating from too much caffeine, but no—it was really him. Dressed all sharp in a suit, looking like he’d stepped out of a fucking cologne ad.

I stepped outside, trying to keep my cool. “Mark, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you,” he said, his voice full of that smooth charm that used to work on me. “I know I f***ed up, Chase. But I’ve changed. And I just… I want another chance.”

I stared at him, stunned. Was he serious? Did he really think he could just waltz back into my life like nothing happened?

“No,” I said firmly. “You don’t get to do this. Not now, not ever. You made your choice, and so did I.”

“But—” he started, and that’s when Gordon walked out of the building.

He didn’t say anything at first, just came to stand beside me, his presence solid and grounding. Mark glanced at him, then back at me, realization dawning in his eyes.

“Oh,” Mark said, his voice tinged with bitterness. “I see. You’ve moved on.”

“Damn right I have,” I said, slipping my hand into Gordon’s without hesitation. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got better things to do than stand here rehashing ancient history.”

Mark left, and as Gordon and I walked back inside, he looked over at me with a sly smile. “You handled that well.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, squeezing his hand. “It helps when you’ve got someone worth fighting for.”

And just like that, I knew we were solid. Stronger than whatever shit life tried to throw at us. Because love—real love—doesn’t just sit there. It fights. And with Gordon, I was ready to fight for as long as it took.