14. Chapter 14
Nick
She’s married.
She’s fucking married, and I kissed her. Granted, I didn’t know she was married when I did it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept. That kiss…God, that kiss was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. In those brief moments when my lips met hers, the world seemed to shift beneath me.
It was more than a kiss. It was life-changing.
I don’t even care how cliché that sounds.
It’s fucking true. For the first time, I saw my future clearly, as though it had been waiting for me on the other side of that kiss.
I could imagine what our life might be: laughing together, quiet mornings beside each other, the comfort of belonging.
I saw the possibility of a family, a home built together, a happiness I’d never believed possible until now.
A small sense of guilt gnaws at me for kissing another man’s wife. A very small sense.
Minuscule, really.
Part of me knows I should feel ashamed, and I do, which is why I stepped away.
But the urge to kiss Lydia again, pull her close, and lose ourselves in each other is overwhelming.
I want her. Not just once, but over and over, in every room of my house.
The thought consumes me, crowding out reason and igniting a fire I can’t put out. I’m not sure I even want to.
I keep replaying our conversation, unable to comprehend how a man can raise a hand to a woman, especially one he vows to love and protect.
The thought is unfathomable. How can anyone want to hurt Lydia?
She is sunshine personified. Messy hair, bright smile, a spirit that radiates kindness.
Her clumsiness and rambling only make her more endearing.
To me, she is as close to perfect as humanly possible.
She is also, without a doubt, the sexiest woman I have ever seen.
Knowing someone has hit her and left bruises fills me with blinding rage. I genuinely want to find Simon and end him, no matter how far I have to go. Driving all the way to Texas to confront him isn’t a joke. It’s a promise I’m ready to keep.
And if that fucker ever shows his face around here, I have no problem showing him what happens to men who beat their wives.
Despite everything, I can’t ignore the reality of Lydia’s marriage. The fact she is legally bound to someone else is an immovable barrier. No matter how strong my feelings are or how badly I want her, getting involved with a married woman isn’t something I can accept.
My personal code might have bent over the years, but not here. Not on this.
I have no problem beating the man bloody for the pain he caused Lydia, but I wouldn’t cross that line with her.
The conflict eats at me, making everything harder. It feels unbearable.
I’ve only known her a few days, but it feels like longer. Like something shifted the moment I met her. I can see a future with her, and I don’t know what to do with that information.
I’ve never been serious about anyone. I’ve had flings, dated plenty, slept with my fair share of women. But I always knew they were temporary.
I don’t feel that way about Lydia.
Something about her feels real in a way nothing else ever has. I want a partner. Someone to build a life with. A family.
And despite everything—the timing, the mess—I can’t help wanting those things with her.
My brain is a wreck as I head toward the hardware store, but as I pull into a parking spot, I remember her saying her coffeemaker was broken.
I nod to a couple of customers as I walk in and find the only two coffeemakers in stock. Without overthinking it, I grab both and take them straight to the register.
A few minutes later, they’re sitting in the front seat of my truck.
I shut the door, then head back into the coffee shop to buy a bag of fresh grounds I know they keep behind the counter.
When I’m done, I climb back into my truck, start the engine, and pull onto Silver Springs Ave.