Chapter Sixteen
LUKE
Ididn’t expect Mila to thank me. She stood there, eyes burning and chest rising as if she’d just been dragged through hell and dared someone to say something about it, and I knew we weren’t done. This wasn’t the place for the fight brewing in her expression. “Come with me.” I kept my voice low.
She didn’t move.
“Mila.”
Her gaze flicked to where the other guys lingered near the fire, the glow painting them in gold and shadow.
Chase and Jax were on alert, eyes scanning the party as though a threat might appear at any second.
Theo? His attention had already shifted—locked onto Tori as she flicked her strawberry blond hair over her shoulder and the suggestive expression she shot his way.
I didn’t wait for Mila’s agreement. I turned and walked into the tree line behind at the edge of the party, down the sloped path toward the lake. I knew she would follow. She always did when it mattered.
It was quieter here, darker. The fire and noise behind us faded to background static. Just the lake ahead, rippling in the moonlight, and the ache building beneath my ribs.
She finally stopped a few feet behind me.
“You don’t get to do that,” she snapped. “You don’t get to swoop in and play fucking savior.”
I turned to face her. “You wanted me to let him drag you off into the woods?”
“I had it under control.”
“Bullshit.”
“I did.” She stepped closer, chin high. “I can handle anything these spoiled assholes throw at me. You forget who I am?”
“No,” I said, too fast. “That’s the problem. I remember exactly who you are.”
That hit something in her—a flash of pain, quickly masked by anger. “Then stop pretending I need your protection,” she bit out. “You lost the right to play hero from the moment I returned and you treated me like the enemy.”
“Enemy, huh?” I crowded her. “Funny. You act as though I crowned you that. But let’s not pretend you didn’t come back swinging. From where I’m standing? You’ve worn the title since the day you left. And sure as hell when you came back.”
I stepped farther in, just enough to make her lean back. Not enough to break the tension but to shift the air between us. My voice dropped. “Tell me something, Mila. That night—you could’ve called. Given one reason. Why didn’t you?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her laugh was bitter. “Forget the past. Let’s focus on the present. Specifically on tonight.” She jammed her finger into my chest. “You can’t hate me one second and then defend me the next.”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t trust myself to. She nailed it. Straight through the ribs. No hesitation. I stood there, chest rising where her finger had jabbed me, every inch buzzing with words I couldn’t say. Because she wasn’t wrong. I did hate her. And I wanted her anyway.
The part that still ached when I looked at her—the part I buried under loyalty and legacy and whatever broken thing I called a heart—wanted her more now than ever.
She was so close I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. Sparks jumped in the space between us, taut and magnetic. One lean forward and I could kiss her. Claim her. Ruin every line we’d drawn. My pulse thundered. My hand twitched, caught between restraint and wanting to touch her—just once.
“I never said this made sense,” I muttered, stepping back just enough to put some much-needed space between us. “But if you think I’ll stand there and let some piece of shit put hands on you, you’re even more delusional than I thought.”
She blinked. “You’re pissed that I won’t let you play protector?”
“I’m pissed that I still give a damn.” There. Out in the open.
Her mouth parted like she had a comeback locked and loaded—but nothing came. Just silence. Thick. Electric.
I watched her eyes shift, the anger fading slightly into something else. Confusion? Or maybe hurt. I could never tell with Mila. She kept her walls high.
“You’re confusing, Luke,” she whispered.
“You think I don’t know that?” I ran my hands through my hair, hating the duality of my feelings for her. How everything was changing.
She didn’t answer. Just stood there in the dark, the lake behind her glinting as if it held all the things we wouldn’t say.
“I shouldn’t feel anything when you’re near. But I do. And I can’t forget how it used to be.” Her eyes searched mine.
“You really think I came back just to hurt you?”
“I don’t know why you came back.”
She looked away. There was too much between us—past feelings, hurt, and all the things left unsaid.
Through the tree line, the party swelled. A shout cut through the dull noise then laughter. The crinkle of a can crushed under someone’s shoe. Elise’s shrill voice again, weaving through the trees as if she was attempting to drive a wedge between us without even being here.
Mila sighed and took a step back toward the flicker of firelight. I followed without a word.
The path narrowed beneath our feet, pine needles crunching as we moved side by side. The glow of the bonfire grew stronger the closer we got, silhouettes sharpening from shadow to shape.
By the time we broke through the tree line, the sounds were clearer. Someone had turned the music louder. A group near the fire was arguing over a playlist. Elise’s laugh carried above it all.
And then she saw us. Tori and Nina were with her as usual. But not for long. Theo moved in. He didn’t say anything, just took Tori’s hand and pulled her away with a look that said this conversation was over and what came next didn’t require witnesses.
Nina smirked then eased closer to Chase.
Elise ignored them as they disappeared into the woods.
Her gaze locked on us before she took a step forward.
But Chase and Jax moved into her path, casual on the surface, deliberate underneath.
As if they hadn’t just made it very clear this moment was off-limits.
Elise’s mouth moved, full of venom. Jax just smirked and tipped his head, the picture of boredom. A grim smile tugged at my mouth, loving how they controlled the situation.
Mila noticed it too—her body eased just a fraction, finally able to breathe again.
“You done yelling at me?” I asked, voice lower now. Rougher.
She dragged her eyes back to mine. “Not even close.”
“Didn’t think so.” I grinned, loving how feisty she was, even if we weren’t anywhere close to a resolution.
She eased nearer to me, all fire and frustration wrapped in something heartbreakingly familiar. “You don’t get to pick and choose when you care, Luke. I mean it. You don’t get to label me an enemy, erase me, and then show up when it’s convenient.”
“I never erased you.”
“Not true. When I came back, you made it crystal clear. You erased us.”
The air stuck in my chest, heavier than it should’ve been. Even though it was partially bullshit. But she didn’t want to bring the past into it? Fine. I wouldn’t—this time. I closed the distance between us until there was barely an inch.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But don’t act like we can rewind. You want real? Then don’t show up half here and expect me to pretend that’s enough.”
Her breath caught.
I stepped in, drawn the way the tide reaches for the moon, close enough to feel her exhale on my skin.
Her gaze flicked to my mouth then back to my eyes—raw, daring, conflicted.
My hand brushed hers. Just a graze. Barely there.
But it lit me up, a live wire—too hot, too close, too much.
I leaned in more, not touching, just close enough that it felt like a decision.
Her breath hitched. So did mine. Her skin flushed, pupils blown wide, betraying how much she hated wanting this too. Her fingers twitched at her sides, caught between reaching for me or shoving me away. My lips hovered a breath from hers. One move. One second. And we’d tip over the edge.
But she didn’t close the gap. Neither did I. The air between us pulsed—thick, buzzing, almost cruel. My chest was too tight. My skin, too itchy beneath my shirt. I wanted her with a goddamn ache I couldn’t soothe.
Then she blinked, stepping back as though the ground between us was suddenly on fire. That almost burned more than the real thing ever could.
I kept going. “I don’t trust you,” I said again, slower this time, ready to drop a bomb so she was prepared for what was inevitable. “But I still want you. And I hate that more than everything else.”
She didn’t move. Neither did I. I could’ve touched her. Could’ve pulled her in and ruined both of us with a single kiss. But I didn’t. Because nothing about us was simple. We were still suffering from wounds we hadn’t even named yet.
The rustle of leaves behind us reminded me the world still turned, even when everything inside me had stopped.
“I should go.” Her voice lacked conviction.
I nodded. “I’ll walk you back to Avery.”
She shook her head. “I’m not scared of Logan.”
I gave her a small smile. “That’s not why I’m offering.”
She didn’t argue. We walked back in silence, side by side but miles apart.