Chapter Two #2
“It is.” He smoothed his thumb over the spot where my teeth had been, a soothing balm. “Don’t downplay this accomplishment.”
The certainty in his voice wrapped around the fragile hope I’d been guarding.
“They chose you,” he pressed. “You’re insanely talented.”
My chest expanded painfully.
“For months you’ve been fighting just to stay upright,” he went on. “And you’re still building something.”
The ocean roared its approval behind him.
“I don’t want this to ruin that,” I admitted, the ugliness of what seemed to infect our world creeping in as it always did—thanks to Elise, and Darren’s murder that caused Mom and I to leave the first time we lived in Blackwood. “All of it. The gallery. School. You.”
“It won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No,” he agreed. “But I can promise I won’t let them hurt you. I won’t let them destroy us.”
The words struck deep. I had spent too long adjusting to avoid detection. He stepped closer, closing the distance and bending down until our foreheads nearly touched.
“We walk into school together,” he said. “We confront Elise where she can’t pretend innocence. We don’t hide. We let them see we can’t be divided.”
“And if she doubles down?”
“Then she exposes herself for the desperate wannabe that she is.”
The logic felt solid. Risky, but solid. “And Drew?”
“I’ll talk to him tonight or tomorrow before school.”
“And Mom will confirm about Edwardo moving in.” It was a good start. I studied Luke for a long moment, memorizing the set of his shoulders, the steadiness in his breathing. “They’re going to come after your image,” I warned. “Your draft prospects. Sponsors.”
He huffed a quiet breath. “Let them try.”
“Luke.”
“My career isn’t worth more than you.”
The rawness in his tone stripped away any room for argument.
“You don’t get to decide that alone,” I replied.
His hand lifted, fingers threading into my hair, brushing strands away from my face with reverence that undid me. “I’m not deciding alone,” he answered softly. “I’m choosing.”
The moonlight pooled around us, turning the edges of the world silver and shadow. The waves crashed harder now, tide climbing incrementally. “I was ready to run tonight,” I confessed. “When Elise handed me that envelope.”
His hand stilled slightly in my hair.
“I saw your face across the room,” I continued. “And I almost walked away anyway.”
Pain flickered through his eyes.
“I thought if I burned myself out of the picture, they’d lose leverage and you’d be safe.”
“You’re not leverage,” he countered.
“I am to them.”
“Then we stop playing by their script.”
I swallowed. “You make that sound simple.”
“It’s not simple.” His fingers brushed along my temple as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s necessary.”
The wind pushed me closer to him, and this time I didn’t resist.
The shuttered studio loomed behind us, dark and waiting. The ocean stretched infinite ahead.
“I don’t want to disappear anymore,” I breathed.
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t want to be afraid every time Elise ambushes me.”
“Then we make them afraid of exposure.”
A spark ignited low in my chest. My mother had gathered proof in silence. I had spent a year away from Luke surviving quietly. Maybe silence had run its course.
“Okay, let’s do this.” I smiled, despite the worry I still had.
His gaze held mine. “Yes.”
The wind whipped stronger, carrying salt against my lips. Fear still lingered, threading through every plan we built. But it no longer felt paralyzing. It felt directional.
The tide surged forward again, water finally licking at our toes. I gasped at the cold and instinctively leaned into him.
He laughed under his breath, warmth breaking through tension. “Still dramatic,” he teased gently.
“Shut up.”
He drew me fully into his chest then, one arm wrapping around my waist, the other cradling the back of my head.
We simply stood there—the moon overhead, waves at our feet, breath mingling in the chilled air.
“This is real now,” I whispered. I loved that we didn’t have to hide anymore—that it was finally our time.
“It always was.”
“No,” I corrected quietly. “Now everyone knows.” Or they would very soon.
His gaze softened, intensity shifting from battle-ready to something deeper. “Good.”
He lowered his forehead to mine, noses brushing, breath warm against my skin.
“They think this will break us,” he breathed.
“But it won’t?” We’d gone around this too many times, but I wanted his reassurance one more time.
“It binds us tighter.”
The truth of that pulsed between us. His mouth found mine slowly. The kiss deepened with quiet intention, his hand firm at my waist, mine fisting lightly in the fabric of his dress shirt. The ocean roared approval behind us, wind whipping around our bodies as if trying to test our balance.
When we finally pulled back, our foreheads remained pressed together.
“A promise,” he murmured.
“Yes.”
“Beginning,” he added.
The word expanded in my chest, crowding out the remnants of panic. Behind us, the boardwalk remained mostly quiet. Ahead of us, the tide kept advancing. We stood in between—barefoot, exposed, unhidden. Not running. But finally choosing each other in the open.