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“What else? Would you do, I mean?” Her gaze is full of fire, and I smirk. I would love to give her more to think about, but it’ll probably end with me taking a shower I don’t need so I could beat off to thoughts of her.
“I probably shouldn’t. Have a good night, Em.”
Emily stands frozen as I rinse my glass and stick it in the dishwasher. I reach the back door and look back.
“If you asked me to, I’d drop everything. My dad can figure it out. He may be my family, but you are now too. My feelings never went away, Em. It’s always been you. I see that now.”
Her mouth creaks open, but no sound comes out. I knock the door frame as I walk through it and close the door.
25
Emily
It’s one o’clock, and my house is too quiet as I punch my pillow again. I crawled into bed shortly after Max left, and I’ve been wide awake ever since.
I’ve traced my mouth where he kissed me, trying to remember every head dip, every tongue swipe.
That kiss was a bolt of lightning. I knew it would be good if we ever got physical again, but I was unprepared for the jolt to my system. How my body remembered how it felt to be kissed by Max.
The lie by omission eats away at me. Should I tell him? Should I force Fred to tell him? I don’t know.
All I can wish for is that Fred owns up to what he did. But Max will know I lied when that does happen. I’ve made him believe I’m the villain to save his image of the man who raised him. Maybe I am the villain now.
When I stand from my bed and walk to my window, I see the light on at the tiny house. It glows against the inky sky, so bright it looks like a painting. I wonder what Max is thinking. His words before he left shook me. Why can’t I let myself go?
The secret eats away at me, but even with Max believing I kept Olive from him, our connection transcends the cosmos pulling us together, like we’re inevitable.
The devil on my shoulder wants to go to him and see what happens.
The angel is more logical, suggesting at least four more conversations about the status of our relationship. Figure out the unsexy stuff first, and then jump on him like a spider monkey.
However, that kiss. That kiss.
It was impulsive. It was dangerous. It was…hot.
Part of me wants to be reckless right now.
I pace again, double-checking the light is still on at the tiny house.
Fuck it.
Without thinking, I slip my feet into slippers and wrap a robe around the tank top and boy shorts I sleep in. I rifle through my nightstand for the item I need and slip out of my house. The air is balmy but warm against my skin as my feet crunch the grass. It feels like years before I reach Max’s door. It feels like I’m walking to my funeral.
I raise my fist but stop myself before I can knock.
Don’t knock. This is a bad idea. You will regret it.
Breathing in and out, I swallow down. I shouldn’t be here.
Then I feel the ghost of his lips on me again, how I hadn’t felt that alive, how it took me back to nineteen when I never felt heartache, only intense, overpowering love for him.
I want to feel that again.
Before the world crowds in on us, I want to feel him again. In my bones, I know Fred Sawyer will tear Max away from me for the second time.
Going to Max will be the most selfish thing I’ve done in years. It’s for me. No matter what I did, what money I took, I want to be wild. It feels so wrong, it’s right.
I knock on the door, the piece of wood rattling in the frame. I hear footsteps, and I swallow down my fear. I throw my shoulders back to fake confidence, although I’m more scared than I have ever been.
