Chapter 28
The terrace glows in the soft wash of lantern light, strung from the old tree above us. Fake candles flicker around the edges, their glow catching in Raina’s hair.
Even the night air seems to still—the breeze gentles, the lanterns sway slower, like the world’s paused for us. I settle beside her, guitar in hand, my heartbeat keeping time with the strings I’m about to play.
Raina’s curled up on the couch, Kindle in hand, and one of the guys’ oversized sweatshirts enveloping her in a cocoon of comfort.
She tilts her head back, a smile dancing on her lips, and I can’t help but grin back at her.
There’s something so serene about her, sitting beneath the sparkling lights and nestled in the warmth of our sanctuary in the mountains.
“Hey,” I murmur quietly, almost reverently. “Can I play for you?” I steady the guitar against me, fingers hovering over the strings, hoping she’ll feel what I can’t quite say out loud.
She meets my gaze, her blue eyes glinting. “I’d like that,” she replies, voice soft but steady, proof of how far she’s come.
As I start to strum, the notes cascade into the air, filling the quiet with something familiar and fragile. Her eyelids flutter half-closed as the lantern light catches the curve of her cheekbone, casting the rest of her face in shadow.
Each note carries a message, and I find myself remembering all the times I used to play for her when the weight of the world became too heavy to bear.
“You know,” Raina says, her fingers toying with the hem of her sweatshirt, “I always felt better whenever you played for me. Like somehow, it made everything lighter.” She lets out a laugh, the sound mingling with the melodies dancing in the air.
“I guess I did,” I admit, my fingers slowing on the strings.
“Playing for you always felt like a way to fix things when I didn’t have the right words.
I wanted to help you escape for a bit. Dark days always seem less daunting when there’s music.
” I’ve seen it in her eyes countless times—the way her worries and fears dissolve for a moment with each chord. I want to bring her that solace again.
Her smile falters for an instant, replaced with a shadow of vulnerability I can’t help but want to chase away.
“It’s… well, I want to check in on how you’re really doing after we found out about Napalm Delights.
” I take a breath, holding her gaze steady.
The nervousness creeps in again, wondering if I’m crossing boundaries I shouldn’t be.
“I want to know how you’re dealing with the news. ”
The air feels thicker, charged with unspoken words.
Her gaze drifts to the floor; she presses her lips together, shoulders tightening.
She’s thinking about the weight of our shared past, the difficulties, the wounds still healing.
And maybe part of that includes me, because god knows I wish I had protected her better all those years ago.
“Honestly?” she replies slowly, her fingers absently rubbing the couch cushions as if they hold answers that might elude her.
“It hurts. Seeing them in the spotlight again, it brings back everything—every time I felt powerless.” Her voice breaks a little, and the weight of those memories hangs heavy between us.
“Sometimes it feels like all those scars are waiting to bubble back up.”
The ache in my chest sharpens as I realize how deep her pain runs.
“I’m sorry, Lexi. I wish I could’ve protected you from everything that happened.
I hate how we were both manipulated. How both our lives went off track because of them.
” I look up at her through my eyelashes and give her a small smile.
“And while I’m at it, I’m sorry for how I treated you when I came back into your life.
” I’ve said it before, but I’ll keep telling her until the day I die.
“I was too caught up in my own bullshit to realize the pain you were in. I only hope you know that’s not who I want to be anymore. ”
There’s a flicker of surprise in her eyes. She blinks slowly, her breath hitching in a way that’s oddly reassuring, a delicate balance of our truth pulling us closer.
“I think I’ve had to learn to forgive you along with myself,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re both learning how to navigate our own scars, and it feels like such a wild process.”
Something loosens in my chest, and I exhale for what feels like the first time all night. “Promise me, as we figure this out together, you’ll keep me in the loop. If there’s anything I can do, anything you need, just tell me.”
Her gaze softens, the warmth radiating from her smile brushing away some of the shadows. “I promise,” she says, and my heart swells at the sincerity in her eyes. “How are you doing with it? They put you in the hospital.”
I take a moment to think it through. What they did to me doesn’t even compare to anything they did to her. I’d let them do it to me again and again if it meant she would’ve been spared from ever meeting them.
“I’m really fucking happy they are behind bars, and hope whatever they got busted on is rock solid. The only reason I didn’t go to the authorities myself is because I didn’t want you to get any backlash,” I admit.
“Do you think we should reach out?” she whispers, a hint of terror in her voice, but there’s strength too alongside it.
“Let’s talk it over with Izzy and your lawyer before making any decisions, but I’ll do whatever you want. You’re in control here,” I tell her, reaching out and squeezing her hand in comfort.
She nods her head, lost in thought, not giving me an answer.
After a beat, my gentle strumming continues as the air around us becomes charged with the unspoken bond we’ve always shared. My fingers play song after song until I reach one I’ve been working on lately.
Raina hums softly along with my melody, our creative connection sparking anew, igniting a flicker of excitement deep within me. With our shoulders brushing, the chords wash over us like a lullaby, enveloping us in warmth as I steal glances at her, seeing the way the music brightens her face.
She reaches for her notebook and quickly finds a clean page. There’s a shift in her demeanor, a spark of creative energy pulsing in the air as I continue to play.
The light scratch of her pencil adds a layer to the melody she hums. I glance over, catching the way her brow furrows in concentration, and that intimate connection weaves tighter around us. “What are you writing?”
“It’s about forgiveness,” she replies, biting her lip, the intensity in her voice sending a thrill racing through me. “And second chances. I want it to be about letting go.”
Her words, heavy with meaning, settle deep in my chest. “Can I sing it with you?” I ask, my voice low, almost afraid to break the spell between us.
Her eyes brighten as she hands me the notebook, the faintest smile curving her lips. “I actually wrote it as a duet,” she says, voice soft but sure. That single confession hits me harder than any chord I’ve ever played.
I glance down at the guitar in my lap, fingers finding the chords I’d written days ago. The melody comes easily, like it’s been waiting for her words all along.
“Let it go,” I sing, testing the words, letting them unfurl into the quiet air. The sound feels raw, like a confession I didn’t realize I’d been holding back.
Raina’s gaze lifts to meet mine, and then, without hesitation, she answers, her voice fragile but clear. “Take it back.”
The words tremble out of her, breathy but sure, and it nearly undoes me. It’s not the first time I’ve heard her sing since the attack, but it’s the first time it feels like she’s singing to me.
I strum lighter, afraid to overpower her, letting the music cradle her voice as she finds her footing. “Find your voice,” we croon, the sound of my voice blends with hers, our tones intertwining like the edges of a wound finally closing.
She swallows hard, tears shining in her eyes, and then she starts to hum, a thread of sound, but enough to draw me in closer.
The melody swells, delicate but alive. A song reborn, shaped by everything we’ve endured—by loss, forgiveness, and the stubborn hope that refuses to fade.
For the first time in forever, I’m not solely hearing her voice. I’m hearing us.
“I think we’ve found something,” I say softly, the words barely a whisper as our voices fade into silence.
Her fingers brush against mine, tentative yet inviting. The world becomes a blur of emotion as our palms meet, intertwining gently. I barely have the forethought to place my guitar on the couch next to me as I lean in, asking for permission with my eyes. “Can I?”
She nods, our breaths mingling as I close the distance between us.
Our lips meet, and time slows. It’s a kiss full of promise, a sweet connection laced with every moment we’ve shared, every lingering regret.
I lose myself in the warmth of her, the lingering tension that’s unfurling into something wholly new.
The kiss swells between us, igniting an electricity that makes my heart race.
Every brush of our lips sends waves of warmth surging through me.
She lets out a shuddering, half-laughing breath into my mouth as I pull her onto my lap.
The lanterns cast a honeyed glow, lighting the trembling arc of her neck, the freckled edge of her cheek, the blue-black line of her eyelashes as she blinks against the rush of sensation.
Our lips meet again, deeper this time. Her hands clutch at my hair, desperate, as if she’s still not sure I’m real.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” I confess between kisses, my voice rough with the weight of desire.
I can barely process the emotions coursing through me—the need, the hunger—but I know I’m not talking about being physical.
It’s the forgiveness I’ve needed. And because I have it, I don’t hold back. This moment belongs to us.