Chapter 14 #5
My heart breaks when she says that. I actually feel it shatter inside my chest.
Offering something quieter than words, I reach over and gently brush my knuckles against hers, giving Ava something more peaceful than a promise.
Presence. Patience. “I’m not one of them, Ava.
If I ever swing, it’s to clear the rubble, not to hit the person standing in it.
Old walls come down, and then you build something more beautiful with that person. ”
Her uncertain gaze finds mine, searching.
I let the silence hold, so that it means something before I try to ease the weight between us. “But for the record,” I add, smirking a little, “I’m terrible with tools. Probably best if you don’t hand me a hammer.
Ava gives me the smallest laugh—a spark of light breaking through the heaviness—and I feel it in my chest.
“Better with swords?” she teases, the corner of her mouth lifting, eyes glinting in the low light.
“Infinitely,” I reply with a smirk. “Though fair warning—when it comes to you, I’d never fight fair.
” I’m resting my elbows on my knees, a grin tugging at my lips before I can stop it.
“I feel like this has deeply bonded us.” There’s a tinge of mischief in my tone.
“And now, I know the bar I have to clear is post-poultry Oasis covers.”
Ava laughs again, pulling her hand to her chest, and for the first time all night, it doesn’t feel like she’s running. If anything, she’s leaning in, and maybe, finally, I’m the one catching up.
Angling toward her, my knee brushes hers—just a fleeting touch, but enough to spark through me like flint on steel.
She still won’t meet my eyes, yet her hand drifts down from where it guarded her chest, a quiet surrender, as if the gates of her fortress have opened wide enough to let me step inside.
My fingers graze hers—light, uncertain—more question than touch. Can I reach you? Can I stay here, like this, a little longer?
“You don’t have to keep bracing for impact,” I say quietly.
Her gaze lifts, cautious but curious. “What?”
“For people to hurt you,” I clarify. “Some of us show up to hold what’s broken, not make new cracks.”
Her eyes search mine, wary and bright, and for a heartbeat, I swear she lets me in. The wall’s still there—thinner now, splintering some. If I breathe too hard, it might finally give.
“If you ever gave me a chance with you, I mean.”
We sit, suspended in the delicate and the dangerous until she moves—leaning into the moment without realizing it. I take it as permission. One more inch.
My hand slides to Ava’s cheek, tentative at first, then sure. Her skin is warm under my palm. Lowering my voice, because anything louder would break this spell, I say, “I’m going to kiss you now, Bells.”
Her breath falters. I feel it. We’re so close, I count the flecks of amber in her eyes.
“Unless you tell me not to.”
Not a word comes out of those perfect lips.
One more inch.
Slow at first, testing the limits of a wish I never thought I’d get to make, I kiss Ava’s lips.
They’re soft, warm, hesitant for a heartbeat…
and then she exhales into it, and everything changes.
She starts kissing me like she’s been holding back for years and has finally stopped caring about the consequences.
And then–
Ava pounces.
The clink of wine glasses hitting the floor is faint, forgotten as she pushes me flat against the creaky floorboards of the treehouse.
I grunt in surprise, hands finding the curve of her hips as she straddles me, hair falling around us in a red curtain.
Her mouth is everywhere—my lips, my jaw, my throat. Slender fingers twist into my shirt, tugging, claiming.
I’m hard beneath her in seconds. No hope of hiding it. Especially when Ava starts to grind against me, chasing a need that’s clearly been burning inside her, the same as it has in me.
A groan slips out. “Fuuuck.” My hands tighten around her waist, guiding her rhythm, drinking in every gasp and shiver as if they could be my last.
She stops. Freezes, really. And sits up. One hand braces my chest, the other is curled at her side as though she’s not sure what it’s doing there. Her breathing is ragged. Her lips are swollen and parted. Her eyes were wide and glassy, darting away from mine.
“You okay?” I ask softly, not moving.
Her throat bobs like she’s pushing razor blades down when she swallows.
“I—” She scrambles backward like the floor’s on fire. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I don’t—”
“Ava.” My voice is firm, not demanding.
She tugs her sleeve down, needing armor. I can tell she regrets every second that just passed.
“I shouldn’t have—God, that was so stupid.”
“No.” I wait until her eyes meet mine. “That was you wanting something. And there’s nothing stupid about that.”
Ava’s expression shows me she doesn’t know how to process kindness from a man when it’s handed to her without conditions.
“I don’t know what came over me.” The cracks in her voice gut me.
“Neither do I,” I admit. “But I’m damn glad it happened.”
I scoot closer. She scoots back.
I take a breath. “I like you, Bells. I’m not here for the version of you that always has it together. I want the chaos, the contradictions, the impulse-control failures, and the oh shit moments.” I pause, let it land.
Her eyes well slightly. She wipes the tears away fast.
“And that kiss?” A soft smile tugs at my lips. “Best moment of my life that I wasn’t prepared for.”
Ava’s chest rises and falls heavy with breath. “I—I can’t,” she whispers, eyes suddenly wide, voice raw.
The moment floats away into the cold night air as she slips out of the treehouse before I can say a word, leaving the ghost of her mouth on mine, her body on top of me, and the now familiar scent of cinnamon and cloves in the air.
Bells,
You’re right beside me. I could reach out and touch you. But I can’t do that. We’re “friends.” Nothing more.
You drew that line in the sand. And I’m trying to respect it, even though every breath I take feels like I’m choking on it.
Ever since this contract between us started, there have been nights I can’t sleep. It’s not the noise outside, or work, or stress, or headlines, or deadlines keeping me awake.
Nope.
I can’t sleep because my heart’s too full of you. Your voice, your laugh. The way you say things like they’re throwaways when they’re anything but.
And right now, I can’t sleep because the space beside me is cold, even though your stubborn warmth is right there. Despite anything that’s happened between us, you’re insisting this is fake while I’m falling harder every day.
For instance, take today. You showed me your world. You didn’t treat me like an outsider looking in, but someone who might belong there also.
That’s scarier than anything I’ve ever written.
Thanks to you, I can’t stop replaying what happened in the treehouse. Your lips met mine of their own volition. You gave in, for one delicious, glorious second before pulling away.
My heart’s recovering. Other parts... not so much.
After you went to bed, I stayed downstairs, couldn’t bring myself to climb into this bed and pretend like none of it happened. I waited until I knew you were asleep. Then I crept in like a coward, heart in my throat, hoping you’d shift toward me in your sleep. You haven’t.
Alas.
I’m not sure when I’ll have the courage to tell you all this, so for now, I’ll let the dark and this paper keep my secrets.
Love,
S