Chapter 54 - Stella #2
Her eyes search mine, patient but burning underneath. “Then stop pretending.”
The words hang there, daring me. My pulse thunders in my throat.
My breath shudders out, and before I can second-guess it, I rise from the couch, closing the space she left wide open. “You make it sound so easy,” I murmur, but my hands are already reaching, catching the edge of her dress, holding her like I might lose my nerve if I let go.
Elaine tilts her head, her mouth so close I feel the warmth of every word. “It is easy. You just don’t want it to be.”
Something in me snaps. I kiss her. Hard.
It’s nothing like the lake. No hesitation this time, no room left for air or thought. Just heat. Her hand slides up the back of my neck, pulling me in deeper, her lips moving against mine like she’s been waiting years for this.
I press her back into the wall, the picture frames rattling, but she doesn’t stop me. She pulls me closer, nails scraping at my hip, her breath ragged against my mouth.
When we finally break, I’m breathless, my forehead resting against hers.
“What the hell are we doing?” I whisper, though I don’t let go.
Her smile is faint, dangerous. “Whatever we want.”
Before I have a moment to respond, her mouth is on mine again. It’s rougher this time, hungrier, the kind of kiss that makes me ache with need. Her hands bracket my waist, and I clutch at her shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me standing.
The kiss deepens, tilts, and heat climbs with every pull and press. My head is spinning, my pulse is wild, and all I can think is how much I don’t want this to stop.
And then—a sharp knock at the door. My whole body jolts. Elaine stills, her forehead pressed against mine, both of us breathing hard. The knock doesn’t come again, but the spell is broken.
I shove off the wall, running a hand down my braids like that could settle the heat under my skin. “Shit.” I walk over and open the front door. No one is there.
Elaine straightens, but her eyes stay on me, steady. “Stella.” Her voice is low, almost raw. “We can’t keep pretending this is just—whatever. Not when it feels like this.”
I look at her, throat tight. “Then tell me what it is.”
She shakes her head. “No. We decide together. But if we’re doing this… There can’t be lies. No omissions. No games. Just the truth. All of it.”
Her words settle heavy in the air between us, heavier than the kiss, heavier than the knock that dragged us apart.
With Donovan, there was always a voice in my head telling me something was off. Even on our wedding day, I heard it.
Now, standing here with Elaine, it’s quiet. No warning, no doubt. Just her.
I lean back, breath still unsteady, the taste of her kiss lingering like it branded me. “Fine,” I say, my voice lower than I mean it. “You want no omissions? Just truths?”Elaine’s nod is barely there, but her eyes don’t flinch.
“My truth is…” I pause, fingers tightening in the fabric of her shirt.
“When you look at me, it doesn’t feel like a mistake.
It doesn’t feel like I’m waiting for something to snap beneath my feet.
It feels… solid. Like I’ve been standing on the wrong ground my whole damn life, and you’re the only thing that doesn’t shift under me. ”
Her breath hitches, the faintest crack in that lawyer composure she always wears like armor.
“And that terrifies me,” I finish, softer now, but steadier. “Because I’m divorcing the man I thought I’d spend my life with… and I’m scared. Scared because I want this. I want you.”
The words leave me raw, exposed.
Elaine’s eyes don’t waver. She leans in, just enough that her voice brushes against my skin.
“You think you’re the only one scared?” Her laugh is quiet, bitter at the edges. “I’ve wanted this longer than I should admit. Even when I tried to hate you, I couldn’t stop watching.”
The sharpness in her tone is undercut by how soft her hand is when it finds mine again. She doesn’t let go.
Her hand is warm around mine, steady where my pulse is anything but. I should pull back, give myself space to breathe, but instead I lean closer until I can see the flecks of green in her eyes.
Her smile is faint, crooked, almost cruel. “God, I tried so hard to hate you, but hate’s easy when it covers up everything else.”
My breath catches. “Everything else?”
Her gaze doesn’t flinch. “Wanting you. Watching you. Knowing I couldn’t have you.”
The floor tilts under me. My mouth crashes into hers, and she meets me with the kind of hunger that makes it clear we’ve both been waiting far too long. It’s rougher than I expected, her hand tangling in my braid, pulling me closer until my gasp turns into a low sound I don’t recognize as mine.
Her mouth parts against mine, and the kiss turns messier, teeth grazing, breaths colliding. I grip the front of her shirt, trying to pull our bodies closer. Every inch of me is wound too tight, desperate, and reckless.
Elaine breaks first, just enough to drag her lips across my jaw, her breath hot against my skin. “This,” she murmurs, low, rough, “was never supposed to happen.”
I don’t let her finish the thought. I kiss her again, harder, swallowing the lie we both know it is.
Her lips are still tingling against mine, the taste of her on my mouth, when the silence finally presses in. We’re both breathing too hard, too close, like neither of us remembers how to pull back.
Her forehead rests against mine for a beat, her breath ragged. “No lies, Widow,” she says again, voice low, wrecked.
My chest aches with it. I nod, but words won’t come. Not when her hand is still tangled in mine, not when my body feels like it’s been rewired to hers.
I should say something. I should put space between us. But instead, I let the silence stand, let the weight of her confession and mine hold steady in the air.
Because for the first time in years, I don’t hear the voice that tells me to doubt, to run, to question everything.
For the first time, all I hear is her.
The next morning, the hospital halls smell like antiseptic and coffee. Ansel walks beside me, balancing an iced latte in each hand, eyeliner smudged from crying happy tears the night before. We pass a line of tired-looking new dads holding balloons.
Blythe’s room is warm and hushed, sunlight spilling through the blinds. She’s propped up in bed, hair messy, cheeks flushed, cradling a bundle so tiny it makes my heart stutter.
“Meet Sage,” she whispers, like the name itself is a secret worth keeping soft.
Ansel squeals, nearly dropping her coffee, and I swear the baby stirs at the sound. I step closer, my throat tightening at the sight of her—perfect, wrinkled, with a tuft of dark hair and Blythe’s lips.
Before I can speak, there’s a knock, and Bennette pushes the door open with his shoulder, carrying a massive bouquet of lilies that looks completely wrong in his hands.
He’s in his usual uniform—worn jeans, a black t-shirt that clings to him just enough, flannel half-unbuttoned, and a backwards cap over messy hair.
The tattoos creeping down his forearms shift as he sets the flowers on the side table.
“Congrats, Mama,” he says, voice low, a little rough. His crooked smile softens when it lands on Blythe. “You did well.”
Blythe’s eyes shine as she adjusts the baby in her arms. “Thanks, Bennette. They’re beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as her,” he nods toward the bundled newborn. He steps closer, but not too close, careful like his size might swallow the whole bed. “Sage, huh? Strong name.”
Bennette’s grin tugs wider, beard shifting with it. “Fair point. Moms do the heavy lifting; it seems only right their namesake gets a shot.” He glances down at Sage again, softer now. “Sage Hart’s got a good ring to it, though. Feels like a name that’ll stand on its own.”
Ansel whistles low from the corner. “Look at you, professor of names. Didn’t know you were such a poet under all that scruff.”
Bennette just shrugs, unbothered, eyes still on the baby. “Some things don’t need poetry. They just… fit.”
Blythe goes quiet at that, her thumb brushing over Sage’s tiny knuckles. For a beat, the whole room seems to be still with her.
Ansel finally breaks. “Well, isn’t this just the coziest picture?
Blythe glowing, baby Sage being a miracle, and Bennette playing the part of tall, dark, and devastating.
And then there’s you, Stella…” Her grin sharpens.
“Looking like you’ve been up all night for reasons that have nothing to do with labor pains. ”
Heat crawls up my neck, and I shoot her a look sharp enough to kill. “Ansel.”
She just hums. “Mhmm. Thought so.”
Blythe’s gaze flicks up, sharper than I expect for someone who just had a baby. “Ansel.”
“What? I’m just saying…” Ansel leans back in her chair, smirking smugly. “Stella doesn’t usually blush. Makes a girl wonder.”
Before I can snap at her, Bennette shifts, scratching at his beard. “Hey, Blythe… mind if I hold her for a bit? Give you girls a chance to talk.”
Blythe’s eyes soften immediately. “Of course.” She passes Sage over, careful, and Bennette takes her like she’s made of glass, his big hands wrapping around her tiny frame with shocking gentleness.
Blythe passes Sage into Bennette’s arms, and the sight nearly undoes me. His hands are huge, calloused, and marked with ink, but they cradle her like she’s spun sugar. He shifts into the chair in the corner, lowering his voice as if even his size might be too much for the moment.
“Hey, little one,” he murmurs, the words rumbling low under his beard. Sage makes a small sound, more sigh than cry, and tucks against his chest like she’s been there forever.
I can’t look away. It’s the contrast—all that grit and weight wrapped around something impossibly delicate—and it strikes me somewhere deep.
My throat goes tight because it’s more than a picture.
It’s a reminder. That some people fit where you least expect them to.
Maybe strength doesn’t have to mean breaking things.
Blythe clears her throat, pulling me back.
Her eyes are tired but unflinching. “You don’t owe me or Ansel anything.
But if something’s happening between you and Elaine…
” She hesitates, glances at Sage, then back at me.
“Don’t let it be half a thing. Not lies.
Not games. If it’s real, Stella, make it real. ”
Ansel, for once, doesn’t crack a joke. She just tilts her head, watching me like she’s waiting for me to admit what she already knows.
And in the corner, Bennett rocks slow and steady, whispering something to Sage we can’t hear. His presence fills the room without demanding it, like an anchor.
I let out a shaky breath, the words catching before they escape. “It is real.” I don’t mean to say it aloud. But the moment it’s there, hanging between us, I don’t take it back.
The silence stretches, thick with things unsaid. Bennette shifts Sage carefully in his arms, murmuring something low that makes her tiny fingers curl into his shirt.
Ansel leans forward, but her eyes are sharp as glass. “Stel, I’ve seen you half-alive and going through the motions. And I’ve seen you lit up like you were carved out of fire. Guess which one you look like now.”
Heat flares in my chest, equal parts fear and something dangerously close to hope.
Ansel leans back in her chair, eyes sharper than her grin. “Don’t run from it, Stella. Not this time. You deserve something that doesn’t break you.”
The words hit harder than I want to admit. My throat tightens, my vision goes blurry for a beat, and suddenly I can’t stay in this room with all of them watching me come apart.
“I need a minute,” I murmur, already pushing to my feet. Blythe gives me a knowing look, soft but steady, and nods.
Out in the quiet hallway, I press my back to the wall, my phone heavy in my hand. My thumb hovers only a second before I hit her name.
Elaine answers on the first ring. “Stella?” Her voice is low, wary, but the sound of it softens something jagged in me.
I swallow, but the words spill out before I can stop them.
“I don’t want half of this. I don’t want stolen moments, secrets, or pretending we don’t know what this is.
I want it all, Elaine. I want you. I want the nights where we can’t stop kissing and the mornings where you’re the first thing I see.
I want the fights that will cut deep, the silences that will scare me, and the messy, terrifying truth of it all.
I want every piece of you, even the ones you think I’ll run from. Especially those.”
There’s silence on the line—sharp, aching—but I don’t back down. My chest is tight, words clawing their way out. “I’m scared as hell, Elaine. But the thought of not having you? That’s worse. I can live with the fear. I can’t live without you.”
For a heartbeat, all I hear is her breathing. Then, so soft it scrapes at my chest: “Stella. Say it again.”
My eyes close, and for the first time, I let it be simple. “I want you.”
Her exhale cracks, like she’s been holding it forever. “Then you’ve got me.”
I slide down the wall, knees weak, phone pressed to my ear, and for once—no doubts, no ghosts, no lies—just truth.