“That long?”
“I don’t think you even thought about boys.”
“No. I didn’t. I think I was a late bloomer.”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You only saw me as your childhood friend.”
“I don’t?—”
“When you started dating that loser. I knew you would...” his jaw clenched.
He sighed and closed his eyes. In the light of the torch his eyelashes looked like they had been brushed with golden dust.
“What?”
“I knew he was going to be your first. I got myself so drunk that I blacked out on the street. Sol carried me back to the inn. I couldn’t handle it. I was so angry, I lost my mind. But it wasn’t fair to you because you had no idea that you were destroying me.”
I touched the side of his face and leaned over him, kissing the corner of his mouth. So much time we could have had, but we lost it all, blinded by our false convictions, our pride, and misunderstanding of each other. All those years we could have been together, holding each other every night, and being what we should have been for each other. But we still had tomorrow, and I was not willing to waste another minute.
“What about Niall? Did you do something to him?”
“Who? That pathetic little worm you dated?”
“Yes.” I laughed, thinking that his description was spot on.
“I might have beat him up a little.”
“He came to me complaining that you broke his arm.”
“He was exaggerating.”
“He said that you wanted to cut it off, but Ty intervened.”
“Not recalling that part.”
“What about this?” My fingers slid down to his hip and my pinky grazed the corner of the inky design.
Now I could clearly see a lone flower with pointed petals, facing upward, but turned against swirls of wind.
Victor watched me. His eyes turned serious.
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t you know what it is?”
“No. I have no idea.”
“Stormflower.”
That simple word shattered something deep in my soul. I had heard the word before, he used it once, years ago, when we were children. He called me Stormflower.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” I whispered, brushing my lips against his.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
