Chapter 22 #2
The next thing I know, her fingers are curled into the fabric of my shirt, and there's no more question of if my lips touched hers.
Her mouth covers every inch of mine, and her soft, full, smooth lips, which I've longed to feel again, breathe new life into me, making me believe that we can get through this because the love we once shared isn't dead.
It was never dead. We were lost—I was lost—but our love remained, changed but not broken, because that's what love does: it endures.
With her fists twisted in my shirt, anchoring herself to me, she deepens our kiss, her tongue seeking entrance that I readily grant, desperate to taste.
The warm notes of bourbon oak and the subtle vanilla sweetness still linger on her tongue.
My first taste is familiar and intoxicating, each gentle glide of her tongue against mine leaving traces of amber warmth, its heat spreading from her lips through my body, a slow, pleasant burn that has nothing to do with the proof and everything to do with the girl.
My other hand drifts to the curve of her hip, but before it can settle, an exterior door slamming down the corridor breaks our mouths apart.
For a moment, neither of us move, both still processing everything that one kiss held.
It was all there—the love that never fully died, the hurt that never completely healed, and the question neither of us has yet to ask: can we find our way back to each other?
Or perhaps, the better question: does she want me back?
"I'm sorry." Her hand presses me back this time with a force that wasn't there the first time. She wipes her mouth in a move that pisses me off before adding, "You have a girlfriend."
I can't tell if she genuinely believes Madison is my girlfriend or if the idea of her holding that title is easier for her to latch onto.
I didn't entirely disagree with the words she tossed at me the first time I tried to correct her: 'If you're with someone, then you're with them.
' I agreed with it to an extent, but it's the title part I firmly disagree with.
If anything, titles mean more now. There's a greater emphasis on compatibility, values, and future plans when one exists.
At this stage in life, girlfriend turns into fiancée and, eventually, wife.
So, no, that was never going to be Madison, but to her credit, it was never going to be anyone.
But something tells me Laney is familiar with the dynamic.
"And you have a boyfriend," I say pointedly.
She wants to cast stones and make me out to be a villain, because that guy is easier to keep at arm's length.
Too bad. After that kiss, I know her heart.
It doesn't belong to Noah Donovan. It never has, and it never will.
She rolls her lips and diverts her gaze.
She was always shit at lying. "If Noah is not your boyfriend, why is he here? "
"I don't have to explain anything to you, London. He's a good friend," she defends, and it needles at my annoyance. I practically begged for his help that night. I'm just as guilty, but it doesn't change the fact that he wants more. "A friend that wants to fuck you."
This time, she doesn't look away, and I keep my hand firmly planted on the column behind her, my stomach in knots, knowing what she's about to say.
"You don't have the right to decide who I invite into my bed."
"You slept with him, didn't you?" I know it's true, but I need to hear her say it. My legs feel weak in a way they have no right to. I fucking hate that I did this to us. She's quiet, and I press on, needing to feel the pain of her confirmation. "How long?"
"London, stop. You don't get to do this. You left. What did you expect would happen? Did you expect me to stay celibate for the man who told me to stop writing him in prison? The man who stopped fighting for us?"
"You could have chosen anyone, and you chose him," my voice cracks with raw emotion.
She was mine, and he always wanted her, and while I knew Laney loved me, jealousy and doubt are natural human reactions.
There were times when I thought maybe she wanted him too.
It may have been small, but in my mind, it existed all the same, and hearing that he had her the way that was only supposed to ever be mine is a blow to a heart I wasn't sure existed anymore.
"Laney, I swear to God, I was never trying to hurt you. Why can't you see that?"
"London, I don't know you anymore. The guy I knew wouldn't have chosen this for us."
"Tell me that kiss just now meant nothing. Tell me you didn't feel anything."
"What do you want from me, London? It can't possibly be that you want me back when you've asked me to leave more than once.
" Her eyes hold mine, and the fear that's gripped my heart for years returns.
I want to tell her, but not here, not like this.
She misreads my pause for something it's not.
"I can't do this with you," she snaps, pushing me aside.
"Laney, wait. Can we talk?" I rush out.
"Oh, now you want to talk. Are you kidding me right now, London?" she says, running her hands through her tousled hair.
"I've wanted to talk to you since the second you showed up?—"
"Could have fooled me." She crosses her arms dramatically.
"I deserve that," I admit. I'm the ass that pushed her away. "But I promise it's true. I only said what I did because we shouldn't talk."
"And you don't feel that way anymore?" she questions pensively.
"Yes and no, but the other day, you said something—something I've contemplated myself over the years—but seeing you again puts it in my lap. It can't be ignored. I didn't give you the choice back then, and I should have."
"This choice…" Her eyes focus on the floor. "This truth you've kept close, why give it to me now?"
"Aside from the fact that you deserve it? I don't think I'll survive losing you twice. "
Her rich brown eyes snap up to mine, piercing through years of distance.
For a breath-stealing moment, they search mine with the same intensity they once held, as if she's rediscovering something she believed was long gone.
I stand perfectly still, afraid to move and shatter the connection where she seems to see what she used to: home.
Despite the new town, the new name, and the painful years that have passed between us, my heart has never changed ownership. It never stopped beating for her.
In my raw, exposed gaze, recognition flickers across her face, and for better or worse, a spark ignites behind her knowing stare.
It's one I've dreamed of countless nights, one where she sees my sacrifice and my mistakes and loves me anyway.
But then her expression hardens, and her vulnerability is replaced with resolve.
"You don't have me," she says, her voice steady, gentle but harsh, as reality crashes into me, the weight of her words stealing the breath from my lungs, threatening to take me down.
I moisten my lips, her taste still lingering, reminding me of all the things I want most in this world, and I'm about to start with an apology and a question when Sydney rounds the corner, her heel catching on the uneven floorboard with a scrape.
"You and I"—she jabs a manicured finger into the space between us—"have a problem."
Her usually immaculate hair has escaped its pins in places, and there's a dangerous glint in her eyes.
Damn it. My hands fall to my hips, and I pull in a deep breath to settle the anger that starts to burn hot.
Fisher told her what I gave him in confidence.
I can't say he told her everything, but she knows something.
I've always been able to trust Fisher with my secrets.
I should have known better with this one.
Laney shifts, putting distance between us.
"He's all yours. He said all he wanted to.
" Her eyes hold mine, disappointment dimming their honeyed hues, and I clench my fists.
She knows damn well that's not true. I know she feels everything I do.
"Next round is on me. Don't keep me waiting," she says to Sydney.
Then she's gone, weaving through the Friday-night crowd with deliberate steps to put space between us.
I cross my arms as the weight of my obligation settles on my shoulders under Sydney's watchful gaze as I wait for her to say something.
There's a small chance that I got it wrong, and her brother—my best friend — didn't reveal the secret I've been holding onto for the past six years.
Regardless, I deserve whatever lashing she wants to give me.
"I'm not going to waste time telling you what you already know.
You fucked up. I'm not here to threaten you.
You still look at her the same way you did the first time you brought her to my house when you were eleven years old, so I know…
" her voice cracks with conviction, the weight of knowing my reason warring with the pain she knows I've carried every day.
"I know it's tearing you up inside to live a life without her.
" She looks up and blinks rapidly to keep her tears from falling.
"Sydney—" I reach for her arm.
"No, I'm not finished. I love you, London Hale. You know you're family to me. We've known each other since we could walk, but I came over here to tell you if you think I'm not going to be pressure...you're wrong. You're on a clock. There's no outrunning it this time."
I nod in agreement before pulling her in for a hug. "I know, Syd."
I hold her tight and let my lungs fill with a breath of resolve. I knew from the second I saw her standing next to Trigg at the auction that I'd be laying my secrets at her feet. I've only been lying to myself, believing any of this could have any other ending.