20. Serena
SERENA
I saw this Robert Tew quote once:
Sometimes what you’re most afraid of doing is the very thing that will set you free.
Something about that spoke to my soul.
And everything about it still does.
—Serena’s Secret Thoughts
My heart is skittering inside my chest like that time I hydroplaned in a storm and tried desperately to get control of my car, until I lifted my hands from the wheel and let fate take over.
It worked out for me that day. No clue how, but it did.
Tonight, however, I’m pretty sure my heart is the out-of-control car.
And I’m not so sure fate is going to be on my side if I throw caution to the wind and leave it up to fate.
I’ve spent years hurting. Years wishing I could have a do-over.
Years wishing I could take back that last fight and tell Hendrix that I just needed a little space and a little quiet but that we’d work through things the way we’d worked through everything else that had been thrown our way, instead of taking the coward’s way out and pushing him away.
I’ve had three years’ worth of regrets, thinking that man had moved on. That he’d fallen in love and started a family. That I shouldn’t still love him because that would make me a homewrecker. That I shouldn’t hate him because I told him no. Three years beating myself up.
And he spent years loving me in silence.
Never giving up on me.
Being faithful . . . to me.
So many nights where I wished I could hear those words again. Wishing for a second chance. And now that my second chance is right here, I don’t know what to do with it.
I bang my head against my front door, hating this. He hurt me, but I think I hurt him too. Can we both get past that kind of hurt?
Do I even want to try?
I take a deep, cleansing breath in and blow it slowly out, thinking about that one question over and over again.
Do I even want to try?
I could be opening myself up to more hurt, but . . . How many nights did I lay in bed wishing for this? Devastated that we’d never get the chance to fix things? Making deals with the devil in hopes for another chance?
The answer to all those questions is more than I can count. Endless nights. Endless.
And now that the chance is right here in front of me, am I really going to let it go?
I close my eyes and still feel his hands on my face. His breath on my skin. The safety I only ever knew in his arms.
It’s so easy to focus on the way we ended, but what about the five years before that? The years where he was everything?
What about the lifetime of friendship before we took a leap of faith?
I trusted him with everything for so long. Can I trust him again?
It’s always been you. It’s only ever been you.
I spin around and open the door when I realize the answer, but Hendrix is already gone. Damn it.
I should go to bed. Alone. Bed is the safe option. Taking this slow makes sense. This man has hurt me once already. But I’ve hurt him too. And he’s still willing to put himself out there and try to fix what we both broke. Am I?
My hands tremble as I step outside and lock the door.
Fuck it.
I’ve lost him once and lived through it.
How would my life have been different if I’d have fought for him instead of letting go?
Serena
Where does Hendrix live?
Olivia
Seriously, stalker Barbie. It’s after midnight, what are you doing?
Serena
I need his address.
Olivia
I don’t know his address. I just know it’s the gray house next to Gracie and Ares, and it backs up to the lake.
Serena
Thanks.
Olivia
Are you going there?
Serena
Yes.
Olivia
Tonight?
Serena
Yes.
Olivia
Baller. You go get your man.
Serena
Who are you and what have you done with my cousin?
Olivia
Ignore the last comment. That was from Logan. Love you. Let me know how it goes when you come up for air.
Half of my family lives around Kroydon Falls, which means I know exactly where Grace Wilder’s house is. I also know the cedar-shake Cape Cod next to it. And if I wasn’t sure this was Hendrix’s house, the black SUV I got out of thirty minutes ago sitting in the driveway would have been the giveaway.
Of course, the bravado I felt when I left my house is waning as I pull behind the SUV and turn off my car.
Fat raindrops pound my windshield as I sit and stare at the pretty house.
Pale-gray siding with white trim and a white wraparound porch like it’s perfectly placed with the backdrop of the lake.
Like it’s the perfect home to raise a family.
His family. All he needs is a few hanging baskets with colorful flowers spilling down the sides and maybe a big porch swing and soft blankets to complete the whole vibe.
It’s stunning and about as far away from his bachelor-pad penthouse condo in Chicago as he can get.
And something about that causes my heart to skip a beat.
Oh well. Here goes nothing.
I slip my shoes off in the car, so I can run to the door without breaking my neck and cling to my very own fuck-it moment. Let’s hope it goes as well for me as it always does in my favorite books. If a man can do it, so can I.
Thunder booms as I get out of the car and look up at the house before I make a run for it before the drizzle can turn into a storm.
Here goes nothing.
The front door opens before I make it to the porch, and Hendrix steps outside, shoeless in his shirt and jeans, confusion with a hint of laughter shining in those blue eyes as he watches me stand in the rain. “What are you doing, crazy girl?”
God, this man is beautiful and masculine and smart and kind. He’s protective and supportive, and when he looks at me like that, it’s hard to remember why I’ve spent so many years without him.
“Come here, you’re getting soaked.”
“You left,” I call out through the brewing storm, holding my ground.
“I wanted to give you space.” He walks down the stairs, clearly not caring that his white shirt is getting drenched. “I thought you needed time.”
I look past him at the open door, worrying my bottom lip, my nerves suddenly getting the best of me.
“What’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours, Serena?” Hendrix asks as he makes his way down the rest of the stairs, stopping in front of me.
He cups my face in his hands, and I raise my chin with rain clinging to my lashes, drawing on what feels like the last vestiges of my sanity.
“I’m thinking you scare me to death, Hendrix Sinclair.
Everything about this—about us—it scares me.
” His eyes narrow, disappointment and hurt flashing before I push his damp hair away from his face.
“But . . . I’ve had three years of space, and more than enough time to know you don’t get handed a second chance often.
Especially not one you’ve hoped and wished and prayed for.
Not one you’re sure you’d never get again.
” I slide my hand down the front of his shirt and grab hold of his waist, fisting his shirt.
“And you just waltzed right back into Kroydon Hills and offered me the only thing I’ve ever wanted more than soccer. ”
I tip my head back and blink away the rain.
“When we broke, you left for Chicago and took my heart with you, and I didn’t know if I was ever going to get it back.
And now that you’re here, telling me your truth, I finally realized I didn’t want it back.
It’s yours. It has always belonged to you.
It always will. And I’m not sure I know how to do this. ”
“You always say we broke, Serena. But we’re not broken. We got lost.” His thumbs brush along my cheeks as the rain mixes with my tears. “And I’m sorry it took us this long to find our way back here. But we’re here now. You’re here, with me, and I’m not letting you go again.”
With a deliciously deep growl, his hand slides to my hip, pulling me flush against him as heat sweeps across his face like a shadow clinging to candlelight.
A bolt of lightning cracks across the starless night sky, bringing with it the real storm that’s been brewing.
A storm I can feel in the depths of my soul.
“I don’t want you to let me go,” I admit, trembling and soaked and standing in his arms.
“Never again, Serena.” His lips crash against mine, soft and devastatingly slow. Savoring it. Savoring me.
Two souls searching for their other halves, who can finally breathe now that we’ve found each other again.
I throw my arms around his neck, and Hendrix lifts me off my feet, carrying me up the porch stairs and never breaking our connection as we walk inside, then kicking the door shut behind us. “Fuck . . . I’ve missed you.”
“Show me,” I whisper against his lips as we move through his house, the moonlight filtering in through the windows our only guide. My heart hammers in my chest as my fingers sink into his wet hair, scrambling for something to hold onto as I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Fuck, Serena. Be sure,” he groans as he takes the steps two at a time, both hands cupping my ass like I weigh absolutely nothing in his arms. “There’s no going back from here.”
“No going back,” I echo as he walks us into his bedroom and lays me on the bed like I’m something precious he doesn’t want to let out of his sight.
I scramble to my knees, bringing us nearly eye to eye, and sigh as his hands grab the wet hem of my dress and tug it up over my head.
A slow, easy grin stretches over his lips as he soaks me in, his pupils blowing wide with appreciation, and I’m suddenly glad I went with the pale-pink lace bra and panties that matched my dress.
Hendrix’s fingers slide along my curves.
Gently tracing them as I get lost in the feel of his hands on my body again.
“I’ve only ever been yours,” I sigh so softly, it’s barely an echo of a whisper lost in the storm raging outside.
Pounding against the roof like the perfect soundtrack for this night.
“Hendrix . . . please.” I run my hands down his chest, unbuttoning each button as I go until I can shove the soaked shirt off his shoulders and press a kiss to his heart.