Chapter 29
luna
Jer was right, this whole “friends” thing? Total bullshit. Because all I wanted to do was crawl into his lap, tug on his hoodie strings, and tell him I missed him like air I’d been deprived of.
But nooo, we were being mature adults now. Gross.
I wiped my mouth and leaned back in my chair, one brow lifted. “So . . . you gonna keep hogging the pasta, or do I have to stab you with a fork?”
He snorted, sliding the plate toward me. “You’ve always been violent.”
“And you’ve always liked it,” I shot back, spinning some noodles around my fork. “Tell me what happened with rehab.”
Jeremy leaned back in his chair and dragged his hands through his dark hair. “Went in. Stayed a while. Longer than they expected me to, honestly,” he said with a dry laugh. “Thought I’d come out ready to take on the world.”
My heart twisted. His laugh held no humor.
“Instead, Arthur got sick right after. I brought him to Chicago, got him every fucking treatment under the sun. I went into debt—like, scary amounts of it—and spent everything I had trying to keep him alive. When it was clear he wasn’t gonna make it, I lost my shit again.
I ended up checking myself into another inpatient center.
Mental health-focused this time. Couldn’t breathe without feeling like the world was collapsing.
” He paused, swallowing hard. “He died anyway. You know the rest.”
I reached across the table, not even thinking, but my hand froze midair. There was so much I wanted to say, and no version of it felt like enough.
“I’m sorry I left you the way I did,” I whispered. “You—”
“Fuck no, Luna. Don’t apologize. If it wasn’t for what you said to me, I would’ve probably died. I was really fucking out of it back then. I didn’t need you sticking around and lighting yourself on fire to keep me warm.”
“I get sponsorships now. I could help. Pay some of the debts—”
“Absolutely not.” He lifted a firm hand. “That would fucking offend me.”
“Okay. What can I do?”
“Being here. Being my friend again. That helps more than you know.” His gaze dropped for a beat. “Plus, I need your signature, and you to come down. Physically. For the sale.”
I looked down at my half-eaten plate of pasta, my appetite long gone.
He didn’t see the way my hands still shook sometimes when I thought about that house.
The way my lungs locked up at the idea of stepping inside it again, of facing the ghost of a girl I used to be.
That place wasn’t just walls and furniture, it was everything I had tried so fucking hard to bury. The things whispered in the dark.
“I can’t go back there. That house . . . ” I paused, searching for air. “It still haunts me.”
There were some secrets I’d never said out loud. Some ghosts I wasn’t ready to name.
“I’m trying with this. I’m trying to be . . . ” I searched for the right word, then gave up and groaned. “Give me some time.”
“That’s what I promised you. I’ll give you time, but please think about the impact this could have on me, too. On what you’re asking if you don’t show.”
“I will,” I said quickly, meaning it with every part of me. “I promise.”
There was a pause—one of those loaded, lingering silences where it felt like if I said the wrong thing, I’d tip everything sideways again. So I didn’t say the wrong thing. I said the impulsive one.
“Can I see your apartment?”
“Luna . . . ” He dragged out my name like it was a warning.
“No, I swear! I just want to see where you are. Your space. That’s all.”
“This is going to be such a bad idea,” he muttered, tossing a few bills on the table.
“Or a really good one,” I shot back, grinning.
“God help me,” he grumbled but stood anyway, reaching down to tug me up with him by the wrist. “Come on. Let’s go ruin our progress.”
“Jer.” My mouth hung open as I took it all in. “This is . . . fucking amazing.”
His apartment, ironically, was across from Dirks’s place, though tucked back far enough that you’d never notice unless you were looking. It had a view of the city skyline that somehow didn’t feel cold or out of reach. The moment I stepped inside, it was like the space wrapped its arms around me.
“I work part-time at a rehab center a few blocks away at the front desk,” he said as he locked the door behind us. “Doesn’t pay much, but it covers this place. It’s . . . comfortable.”
He wasn’t lying. The apartment had loft-style bones, exposed brick, high ceilings, big windows that let in the gray afternoon light, but he’d softened it with mismatched throw pillows, plants that were somehow still alive, and shelves crammed with old records and books.
The couch was huge and so plush it practically begged you to fall into it.
A hoodie was tossed over the arm, and an old mug with a chipped rim sat next to a candle that smelled faintly like cedar and vanilla.
I dropped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, arms splaying out like I’d just completed a marathon. “This doesn’t even compare to the guesthouse.”
Jeremy raised a brow and grabbed two cans of sparkling water.
“Don’t tell Dirks, but his place is too cold. This?” I glanced around, the warmth of the space settling into my bones. “This is amazing.”
Jeremy smirked and sat next to me on the couch. “You just like it because my heat works and there’s not an excess of hockey gear everywhere.”
“That too. This feels like you. Cozy chaos.”
He looked over at me with a small smile. “That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever called me a mess.”
Jeremy leaned back, arms crossed, that familiar heat in his stare returning as his eyes tracked the way I stretched out on his couch.
“So . . . ” He started a little hoarsely. “Dirks still your sub?”
My gaze flicked to his, and I nodded once.
His jaw tightened. “Do you miss someone dominating you?”
I nodded again.
“This is a bad idea, Luna. We blur the line between friends and whatever the fuck this is, and we’ll screw everything up again.”
I sat up on my elbows, meeting his eyes head-on. “Fuck being friends, Jer. We can get to know each other all over again, fine. Relearn each other. But whatever burns between us sexually . . . it burns bright. It always has.”
He didn’t move right away, but I saw it—his pulse at his throat, the way his knuckles flexed like he was stopping himself from reaching for me.
“Luna . . . ” he said in warning. “We’re friends now. That’s what we agreed to. And I meant it. No matter what’s happening here—this tension—we don’t screw that up because I need—”
“I know what you need from me.” I turned to face him slowly, giving him the full weight of my smirk. “You’re saying it like I’m about to pounce on you and ruin your entire life.”
His eyes flicked to my mouth. “Aren’t you?”
“Not yet.” I teased him. “But give me five minutes.”
“Luna . . . ”
“Didn’t you say we’re going to Dirks’s game in, what? A couple hours?”
He nodded, and I leaned in just enough to feel his breath.
“Good,” I murmured, tapping a finger against his chest. “Then you’ll have time to recover. ’Cause whether we end up naked or not, we’re gonna have to be friends after this.”
He groaned and dragged a hand down his face like I was single-handedly dismantling his moral resolve.
I grinned, and for shits and giggles, I threw my leg across his lap. “Relax. We’re just . . . getting comfortable.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re trouble.”
“I’ve been trouble,” I said sweetly, dragging a finger along his jaw. “What, you forget that part?”
He exhaled hard, clearly trying to summon every ounce of restraint.
“A girl’s got needs. You know—spiritual healing, a green juice, and occasionally being thrown over a couch and told what to do.”
He choked on a laugh, head tipping back. “Jesus, Lune.”
“What?” I shrugged. “Self-awareness is important in friendship.”
His hand landed on my thigh, not quite pulling me closer, but definitely not pushing me away either.
“We better not be fucking weird after this,” he murmured.
I opened my mouth to sass him, but I didn’t get the chance because Jeremy surged forward and crushed his mouth to mine.
There was no warm-up. Our kiss was full of want and years of what-ifs. He grabbed me by the waist, dragging me closer, and I went willingly as though my body had been waiting for this exact moment to come alive.
I slid my hands into his hair, tugging, and he groaned into my mouth like I’d just knocked the wind out of him.
“Fuck it,” I mumbled as I lifted my leg so I was sitting on top of him, chests touching, legs straddling his thighs.
He pulled away slightly, dark eyes glinting as his tattooed hands came up to caress my cheek. “Let’s let it burn, Luna girl.”
Oh, I was ready to go up in flames.