Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Kelsie
A fter dinner, Collin heads up to bed and I find myself tucked away on the couch.
Carson is sitting on the other end and my whole body is thrumming.
It is so dangerous to be this close to him.
Shockwaves are coursing through my whole body, begging for his touch, his lips on mine.
It remembers just how good his hands feel on me.
But I can’t.
After everything, I can’t be the one to put myself out there.
The divorce was awful, and honestly I have no intention in getting into another relationship just for it to end in a disaster.
We might have gotten away with sneaking around when we were teenagers, but now…
we are adults.
When I think about what my brother would say…
he is too protective of me, especially now.
Losing my business and my home just one year after a messy divorce.
My life has just been one shitshow after another.
Right now, I just need some peace.
Not chaos.
Yet, he had no idea what he was doing when he asked Carson if I could stay here.
He had no idea he was throwing me back into living with the man that I had a whole future planned with - hell I made a wedding book.
My best friend I planned out every single detail to a T.
Yet, college took me away and one thing led to another and I never came back.
A part of me wonders if he even missed me.
Yet, he never called.
That should be my answer, right?
I steal a glance at Carson, my heart racing as I take in his strong profile.
The flickering light from the fireplace placing shadows across his chiseled features, highlighting the stubble on his jaw.
My fingers itch to trace the lines of his face, to feel the roughness beneath my touch.
I fidget with the hem of my shirt, desperate for something to do with my hands that doesn’t involve reaching out to him.
He turns, catching me staring, and I quickly avert my gaze.
But not before I see the intensity in his blue eyes.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Carson's deep voice breaks the silence.
I swallow hard, searching for a safe response. “Just... thinking about how much has changed. How different things are now.”
He nods, his gaze never leaving my face. “Some things change. Some don’t.”
I can feel the heat of his body, even from across the couch. It would be so easy to close the distance between us, to lose myself in his arms and forget about all the reasons why I shouldn't.
But the rational part of my brain screams at me to maintain the distance.
To protect my heart from further damage.
I've already lost so much; I can't afford to gamble with what little stability I have left.
He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“Listen, I know this isn’t ideal for you, but I want you to know that you’re welcome here for as long as you need.”
His words are kind, and I can’t help but feel there is some hope to them.
Opening that door will be like stepping off a cliff, exhilarating but oh so damn dangerous.
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I see a flicker of the boy I fell in love with all those years ago.
But then it’s gone, replaced by the guarded expression of the man he’s become.
A man with responsibilities, with a son to think about.
A man who moved on. We’re not those carefree teenagers anymore.
I have a broken heart and shattered dreams. He has a son who needs stability.
Yet as I sit here, mere inches from the man I once thought I’d spend forever with, I can’t help but wonder: what if?
I stand up, needing to put some distance between us before I do something stupid.
“I should probably head to bed. It’s been a long day.”
Carson's expression flickers with something—disappointment? Resignation? It's gone before I can decipher it.
“Of course. I won’t keep you up, but I did figure you’d want to cozy up on the couch after that long drive.” He hands me a box.
“Open it.”
My lips curve and I giggle.
“It’s not my birthday. Why would you buy me something?” He doesn’t answer, just waits as I open it.
And this man knows me so damn well.
“My favorite movie.”
“I wasn’t sure if it still was… but I want you to feel comfortable here and I figure you could use a comfort like this on your first night here.”
I hold the DVD case in my hands, tracing the familiar cover art with my fingertips.
The gesture is so thoughtful, so perfectly Carson, that tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
I blink them back, not wanting him to see how much this simple act has affected me.
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
“You didn't have to do this.”
Carson shrugs, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I wanted to. Besides, it's not like I forgot how many times you made me watch it back in high school.”
The memory of those nights spent cuddled on his parents' old couch, my head on his shoulder as we mouthed along to every line. It's bittersweet, tinged with the ache of what we lost.
“Do you want to watch it now?” he asks, his voice low and husky. The invitation in his tone is clear, and for a moment, I'm tempted. So tempted to fall back into our old patterns, to pretend that the years and hurt between us don't exist.
I hesitate, torn between the desire to recapture a piece of our shared past and the fear of opening myself up to more hurt. The logical part of me knows I should decline, head up to my room, and maintain the careful distance I've been trying to keep.
But there's something in Carson's eyes – a vulnerability, a hopefulness – that makes my resolve waver.
“Okay, you know what. I haven’t watched it in forever.”
As Carson sets up the movie, I curl into the corner of the couch, wrapping myself in the soft throw blanket draped over the back. The opening credits start to roll, and I'm hit with a wave of nostalgia so strong it nearly takes my breath away.
Carson settles back onto the couch, closer now but still maintaining a respectful distance. The warmth radiating from his body seems to bridge the gap between us, and I find myself hyper-aware of every slight movement, every soft exhale.
As the familiar scenes play out on the screen, I can't help but steal glances at Carson. The way the light from the TV plays across his features, the slight quirk of his lips at the funny parts – it's all so achingly familiar. For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if things were different. If we had found our way back to each other years ago, if we were watching this movie as a family, with Collin nestled between us.
The thought sends a pang through my chest, and I force myself to focus on the movie. But as the main characters share their first kiss, I feel Carson's eyes on me. I turn to meet his gaze, and the intensity I find there steals my breath away.
I can see the struggle in Carson's eyes, mirroring my own internal battle. The desire to reach out, to close the distance between us, wars with the fear of what might happen if we do. We're caught in this moment, suspended between past and present, possibility and caution.
Carson's hand moves, ever so slightly, across the couch cushion. His fingertips are mere inches from my knee. My skin prickles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive and singing.
“Do you ever wonder…
” he starts, his voice low and rough.
He trails off, leaving the question hanging between us.
I swallow hard. “Wonder what?” I whisper, though I think I know exactly what he means.
His eyes search mine, and I see a whirlwind of emotions there – longing, hesitation, hope.
“What if things had been different? If we'd made different choices?”
The words hit me like a physical blow, echoing my own earlier thoughts. I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. “Carson, I?—”
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers. “Every day since you left.”
The admission hits me, crashing through the walls I’ve built around my heart. I want to tell him I’ve missed him too, that I’ve thought of him every day, wondered what might have been. But the words catch in my throat, choked by fear and doubt. Instead, I reach and cover his head with mine. He inches forward.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my lips. “Tell me this isn’t what you want, and I’ll walk away right now.”
I know I should. I should push him away, remind him of all the reasons why this is a bad idea. But as I look into his eyes, I see the same ache, the same longing that I’ve carried with me all these years. “I can’t. I don’t want you to stop.”
The words barely leave my lips before Carson closes the distance between us, capturing my mouth in a mind blowing kiss. It’s like coming home. His lips are soft and insistent against mine, and I melt into him, my hands sliding up into his hair.
Carson pulls me flush to me, one arm wrapping around my waist as the other cups the back of my neck. The kiss deepens, years of pent-up passion and longing pouring out between us. I lose myself in the taste of him, of his strong body against mine.
But even as the desire courts through me, a small voice in the back of my mind reminds me of the complications, of the potential heartbreak. With effort, I break the kiss, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.
“Carson, what are we doing?”
He rests his forehead against mine. “We are…”
But before I can finish, the creak of floorboards upstairs interrupts. Collin's voice floats down, small and sleepy. "Dad? Can I have some water?"
The spell is broken. Carson blinks, pulling back slightly. "I should go check on him.” He stands up, tugging on the bulge in his pants.
A smile takes over knowing that I still have the ability to make him hard just from kissing him. I nod. As he heads upstairs, I'm left alone with the movie still playing, my thoughts a chaotic whirlwind.
What just happened? What almost happened? And more importantly, what do I want to happen?
I curl deeper into the blanket, trying to calm my racing heart. The scent of Carson lingers on the couch, woodsy and familiar. It wraps around me, a comforting embrace and a dangerous temptation all at once. God, I want those all over me. His hands, his lips…
When Carson returns a few minutes later, the moment has passed. He settles back onto the couch, a little further away this time. We finish the movie in silence, but he keeps tugging at his pants causing me to smile inside.
As the credits roll, Carson stands and stretches. “Well, I should probably turn in. Early start tomorrow.”
I gather the blanket around me like armor. “Yeah, me too. Thanks for... this,” I gesture vaguely at the TV.
He smiles, a soft, almost sad thing. “Anytime. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Carson.”
As I lie in bed later, sleep eludes me. My mind replays the evening on a loop. I toss and turn, torn between what my heart wants and what my head knows is sensible.