Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leif
When This Might Be the Only Winning Shot
I am kissing her.
Why?
I don’t know, but I wish I had done it before.
Fuck no, Leif . . . I mean, is this smart?
Kissing her is the one thing I thought I’d never do, or at least wouldn’t do until I was ready. The one thing I told myself, over and over, that I couldn’t afford to lose control over. And yet—here we are.
My lips move against hers, slow at first, testing, learning. But then she pulls me closer, fingers gripping the front of my hoodie, like she’s afraid I’ll stop. Like she needs me to keep going. And that’s it. That’s all it takes for everything I’ve been holding back to come crashing down.
Her breath is warm, sweet with the lingering taste of something citrus, and I let myself sink into it—into her. This is Hailey. My Hailey, and she’s letting me have a taste of her.
I slide my hand up her spine, memorizing every dip, every soft curve. Her body molds against mine, and when she sighs into my mouth—a sound so soft, so completely unguarded—I swear I lose all sense of reality.
I press her back against the counter, one hand bracing beside her, the other curving around the side of her neck, just below her jaw. My thumb brushes her pulse, fast and erratic beneath my touch.
She feels this too. I know it in the way her body lingers, the way her breath stutters against mine. Air is useless, my lungs forgotten, every part of me consumed by her nearness. Nothing has ever felt this necessary. Then . . . everything stops, her mouth leaves mine, and there’s a sudden emptiness. She’s gone, the loss hitting me harder than it should. Her chest heaves, like she’s been running, like she’s desperate for air I can’t give her. Her gaze stays fixed somewhere else, anywhere but me.
Her fingers stay locked in my hoodie, tight, desperate—until they don’t. The slow release, the deliberate unraveling, shreds through me. Like she’s forcing herself to pull away. Like she’s already rewriting this moment as a mistake.Building walls and . . . I don’t think so.
No.
Fuck no.
She doesn’t get to do that. She doesn’t get to regret this. We are not a mistake. We are inevitable.
I step back just enough to give her space, but not enough to let her go. My hands stay where they are—one still resting at her hip, the other aching to pull her closer. Like I can keep her here. Like I can hold onto this before she finds a way to convince herself it never should have happened.
Her lips are kiss-swollen, her eyes too bright, too full of hopefully the same emotions swirling inside me. She presses her fingers against her mouth, like she can erase what just happened, like she can convince herself it was just a mistake.
She swallows hard. “We . . . we shouldn’t have done that.”
Something flares in my chest, something raw and unwilling to be brushed aside. Because fuck if I let her do it. If I let her walk out now, I will lose her. I know how her mind works.
“Don’t do that, Hailey.” My voice is low, but it still lands between us with the force of a slap. “Don’t tarnish the best kiss of my entire life because you’re scared of what happens next.”
She flinches, just a flicker, but I catch it.
“Leif—”
“No,” I say, voice rougher now. “Don’t pretend like that meant nothing.”
Her lips part, but no words come out.
Because she knows. She fucking knows this was a lot more. This might be the beginning of everything. But my gloom and doom girl thinks it’s the beginning of the end, doesn’t she?
She looks wrecked, like she’s at war with herself. Like she’s already planning to do the thing that will gut us both. And I can’t let her.
“You felt that,” I say, watching the way her lashes flutter. “I know you did.”
She shakes her head, but it’s weak. A feeble attempt at denial. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispers.
I laugh. The sound is cold, humorless. “It doesn’t?”
Her throat works around the answer. “It can’t.”
I drag a hand through my hair, my pulse hammering so hard I feel it in my teeth. “Why not?”
She hesitates, like she doesn’t want to say it. Like saying it will make it real. But then she does.
“Because if I lose you, I lose everything,” she says softly. “You’re the only person I have.”
I knew this is how she’d feel and she’d run away fast and far, and of course I can’t let it happen. Not when it’s not only her I’d lose, but the little one too.
I take a step back, struggling as I think how to make sense for her. For me it’s pretty simple, I fucking love her and living without her has been hard while she’s traveling. Now it’d be fucking impossible. “You think being with me would make you lose me?”
Her shoulders sag. “Leif?—”
“No, I get it.” And, fuck, I do. Too well.
She thinks this is a risk. She thinks I’m a risk.
But what she doesn’t understand—what she’s never understood—is that I’ve never been anything but hers. I’ve been waiting for her since the moment I met her.
I swallow past the ache in my throat, forcing my voice to stay even. “I would never leave you, Hailey.”
She looks away. Doesn’t believe me.
And that? That guts me.
“You’re my best friend,” she says.
“I know,” I say. “You’re my best friend.” My voice dips, weighted with something heavier, something truer. Something that has lived in my bones for as long as I’ve known her.
I could tell her that I love her. That I’m in love with her. That this love hasn’t just lingered—it’s grown, deepened, turned into something so relentless it carves itself into me with every breath I take. That I’ve fallen in love with her in a thousand quiet ways, in the way she scrunches her nose when she’s thinking, in the way she laughs like she’s unafraid to be heard, in the way she leans into me like I’m the place she trusts to hold her up.
“I’ve always told you that you’re my person—mine. You just never wanted to hear it, did you?” My voice is rough, edged with something unshakable. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”
She sways slightly, like the words hit harder than she expected. “If we do this, if we screw this up?—”
I step closer, cutting her off. “What if we don’t?”
She stares at me, blinking like she’s trying to process what I just said.
“What if this is it?” I ask, softer now. “What if we’re the ones who get it right?”
Her breath catches.
For a second—one second—I think she might let herself believe it.
But then she shakes her head. “I don’t know if I can, Leif.” A bitter laugh slips from her lips. “If you haven’t been following—I’m pregnant . And I don’t even know who the father is.”
She looks miserable when she says it. Like she’s bracing for my rejection.
Like she’s already decided that’s what’s coming. But she’s wrong because leaving . . . giving up on her?
That’s never been an option. Not now or ever.
Since I have to convince her that I’m here for the long run, I start right now.
“Oh, I’m aware of the little piece of kiwi you carry, Hailey.” My voice is low, sure, leaving no room for doubt. “Met the little one the same day you did—fell in love with them just like you did. I might not have any DNA connection to them, but I plan on protecting them, being there, and loving them unconditionally.”
A sharp breath leaves her lips, the kind that isn’t meant to escape. Her body locks up, hands trembling at her sides, like she’s bracing for impact. A single tear slides down her cheek, fast, unchecked, and then the flood breaks.
The first sob is strangled, caught between resistance and surrender. The next one is wrecked, raw, tearing through her like it has been waiting years to be let out. Her hands fly to her face, as if she can hold it all in, as if sheer will alone can stop what’s happening.
It doesn’t.
Her whole body trembles, folding in on itself, each sob hitting harder than the last. She isn’t just crying. She is unraveling, piece by piece, every defense, every wall she’s built against the world collapsing in on her.
My feet move before my mind catches up. A second later, she’s in my arms, shaking, gripping my shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her from coming apart completely. No part of her holds back now.
Wet, broken gasps press against my skin. Her breath hitches, hands fisting tighter, words slipping out between choked sobs. None of them make sense.
Her legs give out, so I catch her, lifting her without a word. She doesn’t protest, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t do that thing where she tries to push me away before she can need me. Her head tucks into my neck, damp and warm, her whole body molding against mine like it’s the only place she’s ever fit. Hailey’s hands stay latched to my shirt, her breath still shaking, her body curled toward mine like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
Sleep doesn’t take her easily. The shudders keep coming, her breath uneven, the occasional hiccup escaping against my chest. Her fingers twitch every so often, like even in sleep, she’s trying to hold on to something.
The world slows, but my pulse doesn’t.
No part of me fights it. She is here, wrapped around me, no walls left, no barriers between us, and the only thing I can think is that I want to be the one who holds her through all of it. The wreckage. The breaking. The rebuilding. Every damn part of it.
A deep breath stirs against my collarbone. The tension in her body fades, little by little, sinking into the kind of stillness that only comes after you’ve let go of something you didn’t even know you were carrying.
The thought sinks deep, settling into something unshakable inside me.
If she needs a place to fall apart, she has it. If she needs a place to land, I’ll be there. If she needs someone to walk beside her while she figures out what comes next, she won’t have to look far.
This is how it starts.
Or maybe, this is how it always was.