63. Drew
DREW
As soon as Sebastian left, I jumped in my car and started driving.
I almost lost my nerve.
After all, I let her go.
What if she doesn’t want me?
The thought has me clenching the steering wheel, terror coursing through my spine.
No.
Stop.
You’re letting old insecurities get to you.
I turn the wheel, driving down the familiar road leading to her house.
Insecurity grips me again.
Her house is bigger. Nicer.
Why would she ever want mine?
I grit my teeth.
Stop.
Violet has never cared about that.
She didn’t see an old rental that needed work.
She saw our home.
And she helped me fix up my house, not caring about getting her clothing dirty or her manicure ruined.
I’m two houses away when I ease my foot off the accelerator.
I’m losing my nerve.
But then I picture how quiet my house is without her.
The way her voice and laughter no longer fill the rooms.
I turn into her driveway without using my turn signal. Something I’ve never done before. I’m a careful driver. Never had an accident.
I park my car and stare at her house for a moment.
And then I get out.
I run a hand through my hair, anxiety taking over.
You can do this. Just go to the front door.
But my legs are weak.
I lean against the hood, wondering what she’s doing.
Wondering if her sister is home... and what I’d do if she answered the door.
Callie seems a bit... unhinged.
There’s at least a 30% chance she has a shovel and an alibi ready.
You don’t even know if she’s home.
And that’s the problem.
What if neither of them is here?
I push off my car, pacing once before forcing myself to stop.
“Get it together,” I mutter.
I suck in a deep breath, staring at the house.
She gave me space.
She left.
And I let her.
What the hell was I thinking?
“I needed time,” I say out loud. But the words sound weak now. Like a flimsy excuse.
Because Sebastian’s right.
I’m not afraid of Violet.
I’m afraid of being hurt again.
Just thinking about her causes longing to curl inside my chest. I rub my hand over my chest, trying to quell the ache.
The truth is, I don’t want space.
Or distance.
Or time to think.
I just want her.
Exactly as she is.
Even if that makes no sense.
Even if it scares the hell out of me.
I shift my weight, arms crossing over my chest as I glance at her house again.
“She’s my stalker,” I mutter.
A bird squawks in the tree, like it’s agreeing with me.
“And I miss her.”
That lands differently now.
I huff out a breath. “Yeah. That’s… not normal.”
But it’s honest.
The front door opens, and she steps out.
Our eyes lock and hold.
Her face is composed. Arms crossed.
But underneath it all, I see the hurt. The pain I caused.
I push off my car, suddenly able to move.
My pulse spikes as she moves toward me.
For a moment, her composure slips, and I see everything she’s trying to hide. Her red eyes. The tension in her shoulders. The pain she keeps forcing down.
I’ve never seen Violet lose control.
Until now.
But I see it.
I see her.
“You came,” she says, her voice softer than usual.
“I did.” My voice is surprisingly steady, despite my nerves firing away like they’re at war.
“Why?”
And there it is. My opening.
The only chance I have to tell the truth—and hope I can make this right.
“I can’t stay away from you.”
I swallow, staring at the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.
The woman who hid in my brother’s bushes but couldn’t stay there when I fell.
The one who took in a scared, stray kitten because she knew I already loved her.
The one I almost walked away from.
I step forward, closing the space between us. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”
Her breath catches.
“I don’t need time. Space. Or distance.” My hands shake as I lift them to cup her face. “I just want you.”
“Drew,” she breathes. Tears well in her eyes, but I hold up my hand, needing to get this out.
“I was wrong. About everything.” I clear my throat. “I thought if I stepped back, I’d figure it out. Make it make sense.”
Her gaze stays locked on mine, waiting.
“But I was only lying to myself.”
I take another step forward, needing to be closer to her. Needing to feel her warmth. Her presence.
To everyone else, Violet is untouchable. Controlled. A little terrifying.
But to me, she’s warmth and safety.
She's the first person who looked at every messy part of me and stayed.
“The truth is, I was scared. Not of you. Not entirely,” I admit, a small smile curling my lips.
Then I grow serious. “I was afraid of getting hurt.”
A flicker of hope crosses her face before her expression turns guarded.
“But I realized... you’re the last person who would ever hurt me.”
She inhales a shaky breath, as if she were hanging on my every word, too afraid to breathe.
“And though I don’t entirely understand you,” I say. “I know that you love me.”
Her lips quiver.
“You obviously know more about me than I do you,” I whisper, my throat raw with emotion. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life learning you. Loving you.”
Tears fall down her cheeks.
Something twists in my chest.
I hate seeing her in pain.
And for one terrifying second, I wonder if I’m too late.
But then, her hands cup my face... and she presses her lips against mine.
Her kiss tells me all the things she can’t put into words right now.
My fingers stroke her face before sliding through her silky red hair. Then down her back until my hands settle on her ass, pulling her closer.
I kiss her thoroughly. Passionately. Hungrily. Putting every ounce of emotion I’m feeling into it. Wanting her to know how much I cherish her. Love her. For exactly who she is.
When our lips finally part, we stand there, breaths ragged, staring at each other. Forgetting where we are. Forgetting everything.
“I’m sorry I made you cry. Twice,” I say, rubbing the tears from her cheeks. “If you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it.”
She nods. “You’re mine, Drew. You have been for longer than you’ve known.” A slow smile curls her lips. “Just like I’ve been yours.”
My lips are on hers again.
My fingers curl around her wrist, still unable to comprehend that she’s in my arms. Warm. Real. Finally mine.
I pull back, my lips close to hers.
“I don’t want space,” I say. “Ever.”
Her breath catches.
“I don’t want you leaving.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for hesitation. For doubt.
But she won’t find it.
Because it doesn’t exist.
Not anymore.
“Stay,” I whisper.
My thumb brushes her cheek.
“I just want you.”