But I do it anyway.
My lips crash against his, my fingers tangling in the silky mess of his hair, clinging like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered. Maybe he is.
The fear doesn’t go away—it digs in, sharp and unrelenting. Fear of losing him. Fear of losing this. Or maybe it’s something darker, something harder to face.
Maybe it’s the fear of losing myself.
Maybe even the fear of not truly living.
Maybe it’s both, tangled together, impossible to pull apart.
Maybe it’s finally catching up with me—the grief I’ve been running from, the burden of everything I’ve lost. Sure, I cried when Mom died. I kept going because that’s what you do, right? But I never went to a counselor. I never cleaned out her closet. I just shoved her life into boxes and told myself I’d deal with it later.
Later still hasn’t come.
And Chase? I was upset when it ended, sure. But did I really grieve the loss of that relationship? No. I just pushed it aside, like everything else.
Yesterday made it painfully clear—I’ve been on autopilot. Pretending I’m a badass woman. Strong, unstoppable—Aiden’s words, not mine—who can take on anything without falling apart.
But the truth?
The truth is that I’ve been faking it. Going through the motions. Not really living.
This inheritance felt like more than just money or property—it felt like purpose. Like something tangible that mattered. A turning point. Proof that I could finally build a life I was proud of, a life that was mine. And now?
Now it feels like it’s slipping through my fingers, unraveling faster than I can hold on. Maybe it’s already gone.
It was never about the money. It was about creating something that would last, something I could call my own. When I was younger, I dreamed of building a company, something that would leave a mark—a print that said I was here.
But I didn’t follow that dream. Mom always told me to be cautious, to choose something practical, stable, permanent. So I did. Teaching felt safe, solid, like the “right” choice.
Don’t get me wrong—I loved it. Every moment. But it wasn’t my dream.
And now I can’t help but wonder . . . where is my dream? Did I lose it along the way? Did I bury it under everyone else’s expectations, or did I just stop believing it was possible?
Because if it’s gone, if I’ve let it slip away completely, what’s left of me?
“Stay with me, Gale,” Ledger says, and his tongue sweeps into my mouth.
I shiver, my body lighting up like a live wire. He tastes like sin and salvation, a blend of everything I’ve craved for too long. His arms wrap around me, holding me close even as I’m swept away by the storm that’s him—his scent, his heat, his everything. My heart races so fast I can barely catch my breath.
A low, throaty groan rumbles between us. I’m not sure if it’s mine or his, and I don’t care. We’re lost in each other, devouring, desperate. This kiss isn’t gentle. It’s raw, feral, a consuming fire that burns through every nerve ending, leaving me trembling and gasping for more. I match his passion, his need, pouring everything I have into this moment. It feels like I’ve been waiting for him forever. Maybe it’s only been hours, but it might as well be a lifetime.
The explosion—how long ago was it? Minutes? Years? Time has blurred into nothing but his lips, his touch, his presence. Right now, in this moment, all I want is for him to erase everything—every pain, every fear, every memory that isn’t him.
All of it.
“Gale, darling,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss, his breath hot against my skin. His voice is low, gravelly, and it sends a shiver down my spine. “Are you sure about this?”
His blue eyes lock onto mine, burning with a desire so fierce it leaves me breathless. But beneath the intensity, there’s something else—something raw and unguarded. A vulnerability that tugs at something deep inside me, something I’ve been trying to ignore. It makes my chest ache, makes me want to drown in him, even though I’m already unsure if I can keep my head above water.
Am I sure about this? Not even close. My life is chaos, my thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and fear. But his gaze doesn’t waver, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I want to stop thinking.
“This is a bad idea,” I whisper, my voice trembling as my heart races.
“The worst,” he agrees, the corner of his lips curving into a wicked grin that makes my pulse stutter.
And then he kisses me, his mouth crashing against mine, and I’m falling. Free-falling into him, into this, letting the world blur and fade until there’s only us.
