Captured Heart

22. Katelyn

L aughter rings out, loud and boisterous, weaving through the hum of conversation in the bustling restaurant. Glasses clink somewhere nearby. Sounds like it’s someone’s birthday, and mimosas at twelve-thirty in the afternoon was the best idea they could think of to celebrate. The sunlight streaming in from the large windows casts a golden hue on the polished wood tables, the scent of freshly baked bread mingling with the subtle tang of alcohol in the air.

Michael sits across from me, his hazel eyes lit with amusement as he finishes a story about one of his college pranks. His laugh is deep and infectious, and I find myself smiling, though it feels more out of politeness than genuine amusement. He’s a good guy.

His list of pros is endless. He’s charming, intelligent, kind, clean-cut, responsible. Honestly, he’s the type any woman would want to settle down with. And yet, if it weren’t for Karmani nagging me every other day about finally putting myself out there, I wouldn’t even be sitting here.

Even with her all the way in California, Karmani still has a dominant say when it comes to me dating. Distance has done nothing to dull her relentless matchmaking efforts. She’s still the same force of nature, sending me links to dating apps, grilling me about my so-called tragic love life, and guilt-tripping me into saying yes when I’d rather say no. She’s the reason I even agreed to a second date with Michael. I can practically hear her voice now: “You deserve to be wined and dined, Kate! Just let the poor guy take you out!”

“So then,” Michael says, still chuckling, “the professor walks in, and there I am, covered in blue dye, trying to explain how this was all part of my experiment. ”

I press my lips into what I hope passes for a smile. “Sounds...memorable.”

“It was.” He leans forward as though he’s making an effort to look engaged. “But enough about my college misadventures. Tell me more about that project you mentioned last week.”

I hesitate, but then I start talking, trying to explain my work in a way that doesn’t feel rehearsed or dry. His face doesn’t change much, a polite smile fixed in place. He nods at all the right moments, even throws in the occasional “ Huh, that’s interesting,” but it’s so painfully clear he’s just waiting for me to finish.

And I know I shouldn’t feel insecure about this anymore. I’m proud of what I do. It’s the kind of thing that lights me up, but I just can’t find a way to share my enthusiasm without coming across as...boring. With Alex, I could rattle off my thoughts, bouncing from one idea to the next without worrying about things like that. He’d listen, challenge me, make me feel like I was more fascinating than anyone else in the room.

I glance at Michael and catch his eyes flicker toward his phone on the table before darting back to me. My chest tightens, and I tell myself it doesn’t matter. He’s not Alex. No one is.

And that’s the point, right?

I push past the hollow ache and keep talking, giving him the benefit of the doubt. He’s a nice guy, and maybe I’ve been too critical, too quick to find flaws in every man I’ve dated these past two years. It’s like I’ve been searching for reasons to compare them to Alex and inevitably deciding they all come up short.

I need to stop doing that.

Michael is here now, and he’s trying. I should try, too. If I ever want to find love again, I have to stop holding every man up to Alex like he’s the gold standard...even if he kind of is.

I glance down at my plate, my untouched pasta staring back at me. It’s not fair to him. He deserves someone who isn’t mentally comparing him to a ghost. Someone who doesn’t look at his broad shoulders and think they’re not quite as strong, or at his hands and note they’re too smooth, lacking the calluses of a man who’s fought for survival. He deserves someone who doesn’t hear his laugh and thinks it’s too soft, too light, missing the raspy edge that once made her stomach flip.

I push my fork around the plate, guilt twisting in my stomach. I’ve tried to move on. For two years, I’ve told myself Alex is part of my past, a chapter that’s closed. I should want a future with a man who doesn’t have a criminal record, yet all those crimes he’s committed don’t seem to bother my pining heart at all.

In fact, it makes me appreciate the person he is even more. He’s rough around the edges, but deep down, he’s caring and protective. He sacrificed himself to keep me safe and proved on multiple occasions that he would do almost anything for me. Actions like that tend to stand the test of time, that’s why no matter how hard I try, I can’t forget him.

It’s like he branded me in some way. He told me once that I’d want only him. It’s two years later, and that statement still rings true. I can’t forget the way his touch set my skin on fire, how just one look could make my pulse race. I miss the way his lips felt against mine, fierce and consuming. I know for a fact that no one will ever kiss me like that again.

But more than that, I miss the way he centered me. Sometimes I still hear his voice, the steadiness anchoring me when I start to overthink. It calms the chaos within me. And then that raspy voice fades into oblivion, and I’m reminded that I’m alone.

I try to hold onto it, any remnants of him, but eventually, it disappears. And I sit there in silence, wishing I could see him just one more time.

That’s when it hits me. No matter how much I tell myself I’ve moved on, I know the truth.

I don’t want to forget him.

Michael clears his throat, breaking my thoughts. “Kate, are you okay?”

I glance up, startled. This is a new low for me. I can’t believe I’m out with one man while daydreaming about another. “Yeah. Sorry. Just a little distracted.”

He studies me, concern etching lines into his forehead. “You know, if you’re not ready—”

“It’s not that,” I say quickly, cutting him off. “I mean...it sort of is.” I falter, searching for words that won’t hurt him.

The truth is, he’s not the problem. He’s everything I should want, but my heart won’t cooperate. It’s still tangled in memories I can’t seem to let go of.

The chatter around us grows louder, laughter bursting from the table next to ours. I clutch my glass, the cool dew around it grounding me as my mind drifts back. Back to Alex. Always back to Alex.

I blink, shaking off the thought. He’s gone, I remind myself. And he’s never coming back. I need to accept that. And yet...

Don’t do it , I tell myself. Karmani will throw a total bitch fit if she finds out. She’s been pushing me to focus on anything other than work. Go out and meet new people, date and have some fun hooking up with guys. But I just...can’t.

“Sorry, Michael. I just don’t think I’m emotionally...available to...invest in this.”

He nods, but his hardened jaw gives away that he’s irritated. Maybe he feels like I led him on or wasted his time, but this is only our second date, so hopefully, he takes it with a pinch of salt.

And he does. After our meal, he pays and is kind enough to escort me to my car. He walks beside me as we head to the outdoor parking lot, his hand casually brushing against mine. I realize that despite what I told him, he’s still going to push for something more. I groan inwardly because I really don’t want this to get awkward.

He stops a few feet from my car and smiles at me. “Well, I’d better get back to the office. I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks on the balls of his feet as if he’s nervous. “So, I know what you said...but maybe we could try this one more time...just to make sure.”

I’m already sure, but I don’t want to be nasty when he’s been nothing but nice to me. “I’ll think about it.” Fishing my keys out of my bag, I unlock my car and slide into the driver’s seat.

He closes the door and makes it more awkward by standing there, waiting for me to leave. I turn the key in the ignition. Nothing. Just a faint click. I try again, and it still doesn’t start. I love this car, and it’s my granddad’s, so I’ll never get rid of it. But it’s been giving me so much trouble lately that I’ve really been considering buying a new one. It’s about time. This car is over two decades old now.

“Shit,” I mumble, throwing my head back in frustration.

“Something the matter?”

“Yeah.” I get out of the car again. “It won’t start.”

“Let me take a look.”

“It’s fine. You have a meeting to get to. I’ll just call for roadside assistance.”

“It’s not a problem. I still have a few minutes.”

I pop the hood, and he fumbles with the latch until he eventually gets it open. We both stare blankly at the engine, and neither of us have a single clue what could be wrong.

“Just go to your meeting,” I say after a full minute of silence. “I’ll get this sorted out.”

“Are you sure? I could cancel—”

“Car trouble, miss?”

I freeze. That voice. Familiar. Deep. Steady. The one I’ve been longing to hear. My breath catches as I turn around and stops altogether when I see him.

Alex.

He steps out from behind the car parked next to mine, wearing a light-gray golf shirt that hugs his broad frame in the sexiest way. And it shouldn’t be sexy. It’s a golf shirt, for goodness’ sake. He’s paired it with dark jeans and casual sneakers. He looks polished and...I don’t even know how to describe it. Responsible? He looks like someone who files his taxes on time and knows how to use all the data tools in Excel. He probably doesn’t, but I still find that so incredibly... hot . I would never in a million years have expected this ensemble to suit him, but somehow, it does. Too well.

“Hi!” I notice the overenthusiastic pitch in my voice and immediately tamper it down. “I mean...hi.”

I ball my hands into fists, so I don’t throw myself at him and force my face into an expression I hope reads as mildly inconvenienced instead of completely unhinged . I’m trying to keep it cool on the outside, but on the inside...it’s total chaos. I’m a mess.

My stomach flips so hard it might qualify for an Olympic gold medal, and my pulse is straight-up betraying me, hammering like I just sprinted a mile when my feet haven’t moved one inch. Shock? Yes! Butterflies? More like a full-blown migration. Yearning? Let’s just say if emotions had baggage fees, I’d be broke .

“My car won’t start,” I manage to squeak out, praying my voice doesn’t crack under the weight of... everything . “I think it’s the battery.”

I sneak a glance at Michael to see if he’s picking up any weird vibes because it feels like every emotion is showing on my face. My heart is beating so loud I think he might be able to hear it.

But it doesn’t look like Michael notices a damn thing because he’s scrutinizing Alex. Alex, of course, notices because Alex notices everything. He steps closer, and there’s that hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Not a full smile because that would be asking for too much. But just enough to make my stomach do another flip.

He sticks out a hand, his voice cool and smooth. “John.”

Detective Collins told me Alex would be put in the witness protection program and given a new identity. There are a million different names, and yet he chose that one. Definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice.

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that information. Should I pretend this is our first meeting? Pretend I’m not losing my mind seeing him again? Or blurt out, Hey, remember when you helped me escape a criminal empire? Good times, huh?

After some internal deliberation, I go with the former. He called me Miss, not Katie, for a reason.

“Just John?” I ask.

He smirks. “John...Alexander.”

It’s like déjà vu , taking me right back to the first day we met, and a smile takes over my face before I can stop it.

Michael hesitates, looking at the outstretched hand before he shakes it. “Michael.”

Alex nods. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Michael answers for me. “She’s gonna call triple-A.”

I can tell he isn’t going to leave me with a stranger, so I decide to set his mind at ease. “Yeah, don’t worry about it,” I say, turning to Alex. “I’ll be fine.”

Alex nods and slowly backs away. “Alright.”

I turn to face Michael. “Go for your meeting. They won’t take long.”

“You sure? I could wait with you.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Alright. Call me when you get home.”

Although he’s still not comfortable leaving me, his meeting must be important because he gives a reluctant nod and walks away.

Alex waits until Michael is out of sight before he comes to stand beside me again. Sparks are already flying between us, and it’s so hard to keep myself together. He’s close, close enough for me to notice the subtle changes in his face. The faint lines near his eyes. The way his jaw looks a little sharper now. Yet despite his proximity, he still feels miles away.

I want to throw my arms around him and hug him tight, but I don’t know if I should. If I even can. It’s weird. I spent months trying to get over everything that happened, training myself to stop glancing over my shoulder like someone was about to jump out of the shadows. And now, he’s here for not even five minutes, and it feels like the walls have eyes, watching us, waiting.

“He’s a little overprotective,” Alex says, snapping me out of my thoughts. His tone is light, but there’s a flicker of something beneath it. Seems like annoyance, but it could be...jealousy.

“Michael’s just being...Michael. A guy pops out of nowhere, offering to fix my car? Skepticism is kind of justified.”

“I’m wearing a golf shirt,” he counters, as if that’s a valid and convincing argument.

“That doesn’t matter when you look...like...you know...when you look like... you . With your arms and your chest and your...tattoos.” A breathy sigh leaves my lips. “Wow, you look... really good.”

He smiles, and I’m taken aback because this is the second one in five minutes. It’s official. He’s a changed man.

“You look good, too.”

It’s subtle, but his gaze roams over me, catching on little details. The plain white blouse I’ve paired with a short floral skirt, the silver locket around my neck, the way I’m nervously shifting from foot to foot. There’s something in the way he’s looking at me, something that feels like appreciation laced with a hint of...lasciviousness.

But maybe I’m imagining it because, for all his gazes and glances, he’s been frustratingly composed. I’m about to tear my hair out because I’m dying to touch him, and he’s cool and unaffected.

I force a casual shrug, though my heart’s still doing somersaults. “This old thing.”

He chuckles, like an actual laugh. I’ve never heard him laugh before. It’s quiet and restrained, just like him. But it’s a small sign that he doesn’t have a chip on his shoulder anymore, a sign that he might actually be happy.

I clear my throat and change the subject before I burst with giddiness. “You wouldn’t happen to be responsible for my car suddenly deciding to throw a tantrum, would you?”

“Not me. I’m on the straight and narrow now.”

Even as he says this, he reconnects the wires. He’s so quick and efficient, his hands moving with the same confidence I remember. As he works, I catch a glimpse of the brown shoelace still tied around his wrist. It’s weathered and raggedy, even frayed in some sections. I can’t believe he still wearing it after all this time. That must mean he’s—

I cut the thought right there before my imagination starts running wild. “How did you find me, anyway?”

He slams the hood shut and leans casually against the car. “One would think after everything that happened, you’d be more careful about what you post on social media.”

It’s a jab, a valid one, but one I take in my stride. “It’s not that I’m reckless, and I haven’t stopped being vigilant, but...” I shrug. “...it just got to a point where I was tired of living in fear.”

He nods because he understands what it’s like to live a life like that. It’s not living at all. “So...what are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?”

“I’m at a team-building thing for work.” I wave vaguely toward the venue a few blocks down the street. “Or at least I’m supposed to be. It started again about ten minutes ago.”

“Skip it,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world. “Hang out with me for a bit.”

I arch a brow, crossing my arms over my chest. “I see not everything has changed. You’re still in the habit of demanding and just assuming people will do what you want.”

“Is that a no?”

Challenge flickers in his voice, daring me to push back. But I don’t take the bait. If he still has that annoying trait of accepting rejection without exception, I’m not risking anything just to be difficult. Still, some common courtesy wouldn’t kill him. “Ask me nicely.”

It wasn’t intentional, but the second those words leave my mouth, the playful banter comes to a screeching halt. Fervent tension settles over us. It’s like I just pulled the pin from a grenade, and now we’re both just waiting for the detonation.

His eyes blaze, a storm of fiery lust and longing. Memories swirl to the surface, so raw and unexpected that I have to bite my lip to stop a moan. I know exactly what he’s thinking about because I’m thinking about it, too. The images flash through my mind at a rapid, relentless pace. Us in that room. Him on that chair. His bound hands wrapped tightly around me as I bounced on his cock. I can almost hear his ragged groans against my ear.

The silence stretches on between us as we stare wordlessly at each other. For a man who’s always had a vice grip on his expressions, it’s jarring to see that mask drop so suddenly. He can’t hide the effect I have on him. It’s there. Written on his face. Etched in his body language. Salacious eyes lock on mine, his gaze so hot I almost melt into a puddle on the floor.

It doesn’t last long, though. He looks away, the vein on the side of his neck ticking as he draws in a long, deliberate breath to suppress whatever it is he’s feeling.

His hands clench into tight fists, and when his gaze swings back to me, it’s there again, that grin. Wide, cocky, dangerous.

“ Please ,” he says, his voice low and laced with enough heat to make my stomach do another ridiculous somersault.

I clear my throat. “Okay.”

We start walking, but there’s no mistaking it. He’s still vibrating with tension, still fighting the detonation.

We go down the street to a café and settle into a booth, the kind with dim lighting and mismatched furniture that makes you feel like you’re in someone’s living room. Alex sips his coffee, his gaze flicking to mine every so often. The air between us feels charged, as if every word spoken could send sparks flying.

“So,” he starts, leaning back as he rests his arm casually over the back of the seat. “Boston, huh? Big move from California.”

I shrug, stirring my iced coffee even though it doesn’t need it. “Yeah, it was time for a change. Plus, I got this amazing opportunity with the research center here. It wasn’t exactly something I could pass up.”

His brow arches. “Research center? Sounds...nerdy. Are you enjoying it there?”

“Of course.” I launch into an explanation about my work, my passion reigniting as I describe the project. “I’m not sure if you remember, but I started researching enzyme inhibitors back in university. We focused on how they could slow cancer cell proliferation by targeting specific pathways. The findings were promising. Groundbreaking, actually. And that’s what caught the attention of the Adler Research Institute. They brought me on to continue the work.”

I pause, trying to sound calm despite the excitement pumping through my veins. And the adrenaline is not because of the topic of conversation. It’s because of the way he’s looking at me, watching every movement of my lips.

“So, what are you working on?” he asks.

“Now, we’re developing ways to make those inhibitors more precise, targeting malignant cells while leaving healthy ones untouched. It’s like designing microscopic keys that fit only the locks we need them to, reducing side effects and increasing the efficacy of treatment.”

He listens intently, his head slightly tilted, nodding in all the right places. It’s such a simple thing, but it throws me off. Most people, Michael included, zone out when I talk about anything work-related. Not Alex. He looks at me like I’m the most interesting person in the room.

“And that’s why Boston,” I finish, slightly breathless.

“Not bad, Rebel.” He uses the nickname like it’s second nature. “You’re doing good. Better than good, actually.”

His praise warms me from the inside out. “What about you? What’ve you been up to?”

His smirk fades, replaced by a shrug. “Nothing as groundbreaking as saving lives. I’ve been keeping my head down, staying under the radar. I just opened a new repair shop. And when I say new, I mean new . No customers yet, but it’ll pick up. I already have contracts with a few local dealerships to handle their overflow work, and there’s a racing garage a few towns over that’s interested in partnering up. Classic restorations, custom jobs. The kind of work I actually want to do.”

I can hear the pride in his voice, even if he tries to downplay it. “That’s amazing, Alex. I’m really happy for you. I’m glad you...you know, turned things around.”

“Yeah...and it’s all because of you. I never would have had any of this if it weren’t for you. They took me out of that courtroom so fast, I never got to say thank you.” His eyes meet mine and there’s nothing but sincerity. “So, thank you, Katie. You gave me a clean slate and a second chance at life. I can never repay you for what you did for me.”

I shake my head. “Alex, you don’t owe me anything. My dad and I wouldn’t have made it out of that situation alive if it weren’t for you. And you did all the hard work. You got arrested to protect me. You put yourself at risk and testified even though you didn’t want to, but you did it for me. I’m a stronger, more resilient person because of you. You changed me. You taught me how to fight back, how to trust myself. And you gave me the courage to push myself out of my comfort zone, and I carry that with me ‘til today. Once I stole a car, I realized I’m unstoppable.” I laugh, then turn serious again. “If anything, you gave me a second chance in life.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “You make it sound like I’m a man who’s...worth something.”

It’s weird, but his self-deprecation probably hurts me more than it hurts him. His past has distorted his view of himself, and I can only hope that one day he sees the strong, incredible man he is through my eyes.

“Hm? Well...I don’t think anything can adequately sum up how much you’re worth to me.”

His grin widens when he recognizes his own words. The faintest tinge of red colors his cheeks, and he drops his head to hide his face. It’s proof that no one’s ever made him feel valued like that before.

He takes a few seconds to recover from that before lifting his head to look at me again. “Touché.”

We talk for hours. The conversation flows easily despite the weight of everything unsaid. He notices the little things, like the fact that I still drink iced coffee and toy with my necklace when I’m thinking about something. I can’t help but smile because it feels good to know he remembers all these insignificant details about me.

“Okay, level with me,” he says, leaning forward with mock seriousness. “Scale of one to ten...how bad are your jokes now?”

“What are you talking about?” I feign offense. “They were never bad.”

He raises a skeptical brow. “Alright. Let’s hear one.”

I glance at him, my lips twitching. “Okay, okay, but just one. It’s a gem. I was saving it for when I go on tour but seeing that you’re so desperate for some decent entertainment, I’ll let you hear it.” I take a deep breath to dramatize the delivery. “Okay, here goes. What did the ocean say—”

“You know what? No. I already regret asking. Let’s just stop right there.”

Ignoring him, I jump in, barely able to contain myself. “What did the ocean say to the beach?”

“Shhh.” He places his finger on his lips. “We can keep it a secret. No one needs to know.”

“Nothing. It just waved!” I blurt, and then that usual expression comes over Alex’s face.

He presses the bridge of his nose and exhales a heavy sigh of resignation. His head tilts ever so slightly to the side, his lips pressing into a flat, unimpressed line. “I don’t think I could put into words...how much that offended me.”

That’s all it takes. Giggles erupt before I can stop myself. I double over, laughing so hard tears spring to my eyes.

“Oh, come on,” I wheeze, clutching my stomach. “That was funny.”

A faint twitch tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Nope.”

“Yes, it was! You just don’t appreciate the talents of Katelyn, the Droll Troll.”

“I hate to break it to you. No one does.”

“There are plenty of people who do.” I’m unperturbed by the brash comments. “And I’m all about keeping the crowd happy. You know, I tried to clean up my act once, really did, but...turns out, I couldn’t mop up all the blood.”

“Oh, God,” he groans, rubbing his temples. “I think I just had an aneurysm.”

I wag my eyebrows at him. “How was that one? Kinda dark, huh? So dark you’d probably be tricked into thinking it was nighttime already.”

“It is nighttime.”

“Is it...or is it just my joke?”

He finally cracks and a hearty laugh bursts out of him.

“Admit it, you missed this,” I say.

He stiffens, becoming slightly awkward, but his gaze lingers a moment too long before he swiftly changes the subject. I try not to get frustrated. I keep fishing for something more, but he continues to give me mixed signals the same way he did two years ago.

I glance at my watch as an attempt to avoid the slight discomfort and realize how much time has passed. It’s almost eleven p.m.

“Crap! I’d better get going,” I say reluctantly. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

He nods, then gets the bill. He walks me to my car, and for some reason, I can’t get in and drive away. I’ve been dying to see him for two years, constantly feeling like something was missing from my life, and I can’t just leave him. I think about asking to exchange numbers, then settle on something bolder.

“Hey...do you want to come back to my place?” I ask, the words slipping out before I lose my nerve.

His brows lift slightly. “Your place?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’ve got coffee and...um, tea? If you’re into that.” It’s a stupid request, considering we just had coffee, but I don’t even care if it makes sense.

He chuckles because he sees right through that. “Sure.”

He follows me back home. When we arrive, I kick off my shoes and flick on the lights. He steps in behind me, taking it all in, his gaze flickering from the spiral staircase that leads upstairs to the oversized canvas painting propped against the far wall.

My apartment is a loft-style duplex tucked on the edge of the city. The walls are exposed brick, with tall industrial windows that let the streetlights spill in, and steel beams crisscrossing overhead. The downstairs area is open-plan, with the kitchen, dining area, and living room blending seamlessly together.

A navy-blue couch sits against one wall, facing a wooden coffee table cluttered with books and an unlit candle. The kitchen is minimalistic, with dark countertops and a sleek stainless-steel fridge.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I offer, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it onto the couch.

“Beer, if you’ve got it.”

I nod, heading to the fridge. I grab a bottle for him and a cold water for myself, twisting the cap off as I hand him the beer. He takes a sip, his eyes scanning the space like he’s cataloging every detail.

“This place is nice. Different.”

“Thanks.” I gesture toward the staircase. “Want the tour?”

He nods, following me as I lead him through the main floor. I point out the small dining nook, the overstuffed bookcase filled with novels, and the sliding door that leads outside.

Then I take him upstairs. My bedroom is cozy, with a queen-sized bed draped in a gray duvet and matching pillows. A vintage trunk sits at the foot of the bed, and string lights are wrapped around the railing, giving the space a soft, golden glow.

When we step inside, his demeanor shifts. His shoulders tighten slightly, and he glances around with a mix of hesitation and discomfort. I catch the way his fingers fidget with the beer bottle, and it hits me that this might be too much too soon.

“Actually,” I say, cutting the tension, “why don’t we sit outside? The moonlight’s amazing tonight.”

His lips curve into a faint smile, and he looks relieved. “Sure.”

I walk with him to the sliding door and lead him out onto the balcony. It’s small, with a round table and two metal chairs tucked into one corner. Tiny potted plants line the railing, and the city sprawls out below us, glowing under the silvery moonlight.

I take a seat, gesturing for him to do the same. “It’s nice out here.”

He leans back in the chair, his eyes drifting to the moon. “Yeah.”

“So, any particular reason you decided on John Alexander? Surely, you could’ve been more creative. I mean, Ronan Markowsky was an option. Just saying.”

He scratches at the label on his beer bottle with his thumbnail and shrugs. “Well...after very careful consideration, I decided that’s the man I wanted to be. Aleksandras Kazlauskas was a coward who didn’t have the strength or the mental fortitude to make the right choices. I didn’t want to be him. John Turner was cold and calculated and...callous. I didn’t want to be him either.”

“So, you wanted to be John Alexander?” I tease. “Didn’t that guy kidnap me?”

He smirks. “I see it a little differently. I think he fought tooth and nail to protect you. He’s the guy who sacrificed everything to do the right thing.”

“And he never left me,” I add. “Even when I begged him to.”

His smirk fades, and we both fall silent, the weight of the past engulfing both of us. The balcony locks us in a time warp as memories rise to the surface. The small space makes me feel like I’m right back in that room with him. I was trapped and so afraid, but I remember the way he spoke to me when I wanted to give up, his voice calm and steady when I was a total mess inside.

For those few moments, we’re consumed by the gravity of everything we endured, the ways we were broken and rebuilt. The ways we saved each other, piece by jagged piece.

He’s right. John Alexander may have his flaws, but he’s resourceful and resilient and reliable. He was a pillar of strength when I needed him most, and I will forever be grateful for that.

“It suits you,” I say eventually, breaking the silence. I nudge him playfully. “I didn’t peg him as the type who’d wear golf shirts, though.”

He laughs, glancing down at his shirt. He tugs at the collar like it’s choking him. “I fucking hate these things. But, you know...I’m trying not to stand out.”

I snort. “You? Blending in? I thought we were a couple of rebels, but it looks like you’re going soft on me.”

“I’m not.”

“Before you know it, you’re gonna be getting sentimental over stupid shit.”

“Doubtful.” He rolls his eyes when he says this but makes no attempt to hide the shoelace tied around his wrist.

“I’m telling you, Alex, you’re one step away from baking cookies for the neighborhood kids and mowing your lawn in a pair of New Balances.”

He groans, and in one swift motion, he grabs the back of his shirt and yanks it off. The movement is so casual, but it still leaves me stunned. The sight of his lean abs and strong shoulders sends all my hormones into an absolute frenzy.

“Better?” he teases, balling the shirt and tossing it over the back of his chair.

“Marginally.” My voice comes out weaker than I’d like.

The tension is palpable, hanging thick and heavy in the air.

“So, where are you living now?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation somewhere neutral before my brain short-circuits.

“I was in North Carolina up until about a week ago...then I came here.”

“Yeah? For business? Vacation? Trav—”

“You,” he cuts in, firm and to the point. “I came here for you.”

I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to draw parallels between Alex’s actions and a pre-2005 rom-com. Now, there are some similarities to Lake House . The guy’s name was also Alex. He also waited patiently for two years before—

What am I doing? That movie came out in 2006, anyway. I shouldn’t even be comparing because this is in a league of its own. He came all the way from North Carolina. He sought me out...and found me. That’s top tier movie level stuff.

But if that’s the case, why has he been so distant, pussy-footing and blowing hot and cold all day?

“Why did you come looking for me?”

His jaw tightens as if he’s slightly annoyed. “Take a wild guess.”

I shrug, not a hundred percent certain I want to put myself out there in case he rejects me. “You...wanted to catch up with an old friend?”

He glowers at me. “No.”

“You wanted closure. We bonded over some traumatic events, and you maybe wanted to see me again to see if...what we felt was real...or just a response to—”

“It was real,” he cuts in, his tone sharp. “I wouldn’t still be obsessing about you all the fucking time if it wasn’t real. I wouldn’t have moved here, opened up a shop, and put down roots on the off chance that we might’ve had something special.”

My eyes widen, and I’m stunned into silent for a few beats. “You did that? You opened up your shop... here ?”

“Yeah.” He runs an aggravated hand over his face, then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Now, because you’re insisting on being impossibly stubborn, let me tell you why I took such a leap of faith. I did it because I can’t stop thinking about you. Every second of every day...you’re just there...in my head. It’s a constant nag, telling me it ended too soon. We weren’t even close to being finished.” He clenches and unclenches his hands. “I wake up in the middle of the night, and I’m feverish, drenched in sweat because I’m aching to have you so bad. I wanna kiss you, taste you...feel your skin...hear your laugh, and you’re just... not there. Fuck, I miss you, Katie. And this distance is driving me crazy. I stayed away because Detective Collins told me not to contact you. When Victor got sentenced two months ago, that became ten times harder to do. That’s why I’m here. I had to dig deep every day to find the will to stay away from you, and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

I blink, caught between shock and the overwhelming pull of his words. I want to tell him I feel the same, but he doesn’t give me a chance to speak.

“And I hate that I’m like this. I hate that I can’t get over this two-week shitstorm we went through together. Somewhere in there, you embedded yourself in the deepest part of me, and now I can’t get you out of my system. And I know I’m no good for you. I know you deserve more. You’ve got Michael now, and he’s probably a better man than I’ll ever be. But you know what? I couldn’t go one more day without telling you how I feel. It’s stupid and crazy, but I...I may very well be in love with you, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t say it.”

Hearing that jolts me, shifts my whole world off its axis. I sit there frozen, trying to absorb everything he said, but my mind latches on to one weird detail. “Michael? Why are you bringing up Michael?”

His eyebrows crease. “Isn’t he your...boyfriend?”

“No. I don’t have a boyfriend. I’ve been hung up on you all this time. Michael and I went on, like, two dates, and I told him today I didn’t want—”

I’m silenced when his mouth crashes into mine, a hard, hungry collision, searing with two years of unspoken yearning. It’s like he couldn’t wait another second, like Michael was the only obstacle standing between us. His mouth claims mine with an intensity that knocks the air out of my lungs, and I gasp against him. It’s not slow or gentle. It’s wild, a clash of teeth and lips and tongues, like we’ve been starving and finally found the thing we can’t live without.

“You couldn’t have told me this six hours ago?” The whisper’s harsh against my lips. He’s already standing, pulling me up with him. “You let me sit there and listen to your jokes when we could’ve been doing this instead?”

“Time well spent, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I have a few more—”

“Shut up. Just shut up and let me kiss you.”

His hands tangle in my hair, gripping just tight enough to release another gasp, and he uses the sound to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping past my lips and filling my mouth.

I feel him shift, his body pressing me back until the edge of the balcony digs into my lower spine. I barely notice. All I can focus on is the way his hands slide down to my waist to grip my ass. Rough and possessive at first, then he starts exploring, like he’s trying to reacquaint himself with every inch of me.

It’s fire. Hot, blistering fire that blazes through my veins, igniting every nerve ending until all I can do is burn for him. The taste of him, the weight of his body pinning me in place, the way he groans low in his throat when I bite his bottom lip. That sound is just as sexy as I remember. It all floods my senses, drowning out anything that isn’t him.

Impatient hands are all over my body, cupping my breasts and gripping my thighs. And then those same impatient hands creep up my skirt and yank down my panties.

I gasp, my eyes widening. “We should go inside.”

“No.” He shakes his head, pressing me harder against the railing. “Right here.”

My eyes dart around in the thick darkness that’s barely penetrated by the streetlights. It’s good cover, but we’re outside. Anyone could see us. Naked. “I have neighbours.”

“And if any of them are still awake right now...” He unbuttons his pants and tugs them down. “...they deserve a show.”

He lifts me slightly, positioning my ass on the edge of the railing. The metal is cold on my skin, but it’s negated by the heat pulsing through me. He’s so eager to have me he doesn’t wait another second. His thick tip pushes into me. The angle is awkward but doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He simply adjusts my hips, then slams into me with enough force to leave me whimpering.

From the moment he enters me, it’s chaos. Two years of tension, of unresolved feelings and buried desire are unleashed. All those pent-up emotions erupt in a frenzy of need. It’s raw and unrestrained. He shoves my blouse up and pulls my bra down to reveal my breasts. The cool night air hardens my nipples into little buds, and he takes one into his mouth. A loud moan bursts out of me, and I bite my lip to stifle the sound when I remember that we’re outside.

“Two years,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “And I’ve thought about this every damn day.”

My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it everywhere—my chest, my throat, even the tips of my fingers as they clutch at him like I’ll never let go.

My mind is a haze, the world narrowing to just this. His mouth on my breast, the heat of his body, the way his hands grip me like I’m something he’s fought too long to have.

He picks up the pace, chasing his pleasure. His thrusts are fast and clumsy, driving us both to the point of manic frustration because he just can’t seem to get the right rhythm. His growing aggravation eventually becomes too much. He withdraws, spins me around, and pushes my upper body down over the railing.

I stare at the ground below me, and with the high I’m on, the effect is almost dizzying. The cold metal bites the sensitive skin of my semi-exposed breasts, and I wince. Alex doesn’t give a single damn about my discomfort. It’s like he’s in a lust-induced daze. He tosses my skirt up, kicks my feet further apart, and then he plunges into me again.

One hand grips my hip, the other grips my shoulder to keep me right where he wants me as he begins to thrust. His need for me is primal, and it’s escalating by the second, becoming more ruthless, more unhinged. He’s an animal, his desire insatiable. My breasts and stomach bear the full brunt of his fervent assault, scraping over the metal edge every time his pelvis slaps against my ass.

Yet despite the pain, an orgasm rips through me. Violent and extreme, just like him. I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop the scream that’s about to burst out of me. My legs quiver, almost giving out. Alex stops, and then, as if I weigh nothing, he picks me up and drops me onto the table.

“I need to taste you,” he says, hooking my feet up on the table.

That’s all the warning I get before his head drops between my legs. His tongue is soft...soothing after the rampage he just unleashed on my body. Languidly, it flicks my clit. The sudden change of pace throws me into disarray. I can’t think straight, my breath coming out in short puffs as I rock my hips against his mouth.

I’m still recovering from the first earth-shattering orgasm when the second one hits. Not as violent, but just as devastating.

The third one comes almost instantly when his body covers mine and he enters me again. His hips move slower, but still hit against me with the same cataclysmic force. And as I lie there shivering, his arms curl around me, wrapping me in a cocoon of warmth and strength.

My nails scrape down the damp skin on his back, and the pressure that’s been building inside him finally releases. With a few short pumps, he empties himself inside me, his eyebrows pinching together in the sexiest way. I love watching him come apart, knowing I’m the one who took him to that point of ecstatic pleasure.

I release a sated breath. “I can’t believe you prefer that over my jokes. It was mediocre at best.”

He chuckles, lightly kissing my collarbone. “I’d prefer inhaling your homemade chloroform over your jokes. It’s really not a high bar.”

A giggle pops out of me, and I loop my arms around him to hold him tighter. “I don’t know how I survived without you for two years.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, brushing my damp hair off my forehead. “You’ll never have to do it again.”