Chapter Twenty-Three
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lanie
T he drive home was quiet at first, but not uncomfortable. Streetlights blurred past us, casting fleeting shadows across Mark’s face. His thumb tapped on the steering wheel, a rhythm I recognized as one that indicated he was nervous.
Around me?
“Tonight was a lot of fun,” I said, clasping my hands in my lap.
He shot me a quick smile. “It sure was.”
“I’ve missed Maplebridge.” I chewed my lip, half afraid of saying anything that might ruin the magic of the night. I’m just going to say it. “And you.”
His hand moved to cover mine, fingers warm and steady. “We missed you too.”
We?
I wasn’t talking about the town. Every smile, every touch we exchanged set my heart racing. I needed to know if I was having the same effect on him. Were we heading back to being friends? Or on the edge of leaping into something more?
I turned, studying his profile for answers, but found none. “Do you think it’s possible to go back to who we were?”
“No.” His answer was abrupt, and I tensed, my heart sinking.
But then his hand tightened around mine. “I don’t want to. I didn’t know what my priorities were back then. Or how to fight for them.”
Trying to make light of a tense moment, I joked, “Oh, you knew how to fight.”
His expression darkened. “I don’t like to think about that night.” My heart nearly broke in two when he retracted his hand. “It changed my life. And not in a good way.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.” I was. Sorry he’d been put in the position to defend me. Sorry I’d brought it up.
His expression was pained. “You shouldn’t be—you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That’s not how it feels,” I said finally, my voice barely above the hum of the engine. “I should have done something about those guys. Not listened to my mother. Instead, I left.”
Mark glanced at me before turning his eyes back to the road. “None of us handled that situation well.” A short laugh left his lips, but there was no humor in it. “Even Julian. I didn’t think he had it in him, but when he saw I was outnumbered, he jumped right in.”
“I should have as well,” I murmured.
Both of his eyebrows rose. “No, you were right to step away. If any of them had laid a hand on you, I would have killed them. And that would have landed me more than one night in jail.”
I wanted to reach for his hand. But I didn’t. Instead, I said, “You never should have been arrested. That was Kyle’s father throwing his weight around because he was on the police force. Had he spent a little less time covering for Kyle and a little more time grounding him, maybe Kyle would have been less of a dick.”
“He was a front-tooth-missing dick when I was done with him.”
We shared a smile at that.
It was true.
Kyle had spent a week at school with a big gap in his teeth before he’d gotten an—implant? Veneer? His embarrassment over a football player losing so badly to a soccer player was likely why he had tried to spread so many rumors about me after that.
“I don’t feel bad for him. Is he still around?”
“No, he got a DUI and his family moved away.”
“Sounds about right.” I sighed. “I hope he’s doing better now. I never liked him, but I don’t wish ill on him.”
Mark nodded. “None of us do, but none of us miss him either.”
After a moment, I said, “I felt awful leaving that night, but my mom lost her mind when she heard about the fight. She came to get me, and then... the next morning, she told me we were moving.”
Mark’s jaw worked like he was trying to find the right words. “A lot of shit went on after that prom.” He let out a slow breath. “I went into survival mode, and when I surfaced, you were preparing to leave.” His voice was low, rough. “And your mother made it pretty clear she didn’t want me around you.”
I tensed, turning to look out the window as I fought back a wave of anger. “Did she say something to you?”
“Mostly to my parents.” He shrugged. “It was nothing I didn’t deserve.”
My whole body stilled. “I’m sorry she did that.”
“She was right. I needed to calm down and get control of my temper. That’s why I waited before coming to see you. Remember? You were playing the piano, and I gave you a—”
I snapped back around, giving him a long look. “Spectrometer. Yes, I remember. I thought you’d forgotten about it.”
His smile was crooked. “I wish forgetting you was that easy. The spectrometer was supposed to be my excuse to keep in touch. You damn near broke my heart when you told me you didn’t want me to visit you.”
So, he was angry with me about that. Angry enough that he had pretended to forget he’d ever given me that gift? I didn’t know how I felt about that. I didn’t like to think he was capable of that.
I let out a slow breath, releasing something inside me. The only way to move forward was to let that go. Let it all go. “I’m sorry. I was young, angry, and scared. I made a lot of bad choices that year.”
“I understood.” His voice was rough. “Well, I tried to.”
Mark turned onto my street, pulling up in front of Eliza’s. But neither of us moved. He shifted to face me, his expression softer now. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted that night?”
My mouth went dry. “All the time.”
His lips twitched at that. “Come here.”
I sat there, breathing erratically, wanting to trust this, while also terrified to.
He leaned in, ran his hand through my hair, and settled it on the back of my neck. It wasn’t impulsive, not rushed or desperate. It was deliberate, slow, as if he was giving me the chance to pull away. But I didn’t want to. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring myself as his lips met mine.
I expected something to go wrong. For a door to slam, for a car horn to blare, for something to remind us why this couldn’t work.
But nothing did.
We kissed long and deep, hot and heavy, and the world didn’t collapse around us. Our tongues danced, our hands wandered, the windows fogged, and not one person heckled us.
I smiled against his lips. “I don’t want to give you a big head, but every kiss you give me is better than the last.”
“Mmm,” he murmured. “Same.” His lips grazed my cheek, then my neck.
I shuddered from the pleasure of his touch.
He raised his head and looked deeply into my eyes. There was something unreadable in his expression—something heavy.
He looked like he was struggling with something.
I pushed. “Mark, what is it?”
Then, as if something flipped inside him, he smiled. His fingers brushed against mine, and he growled, “Would you like to come home with me?”
Home.
He wasn’t asking me to come over. He was asking me to step into something bigger. To take a risk with him. To believe that maybe, after everything, this was our chance to get it right.
I didn’t answer with words.
I kissed him instead.