Her lips part like she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out.
I’ve gone too far, but I can’t stop now. I keep going, diving headfirst into the deep end.
“I should’ve asked you to dance that night. It should’ve beenmeon the floor with you. Me making you smile. Me who you were pressed against.” I take a breath. “It should’ve fucking been me.”
She stares at me. The slow drips from the kitchen sink echo in the space between us. Her bottom lip quivers and she bites it, trying to hide. But I see.
I notice everything about her.
The hurt in her eyes is agonizing, especially knowing I’m the reason it’s there. She turns away, looking out the dark window.
“Then why didn’t you?” she whispers.
“I thought keeping some distance between us was the right thing to do.” I exhale, the regret heavy in my bones. “I thought I was protecting you.”
She lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh—thin and humorless. “You want to know a secret?”
I nod once, though I’m not sure I deserve to hear it.
“I wanted it to be you, too.”
Before I can fully absorb her confession, she’s already gone, leaving me alone in the silence.
I press my palms against the counter, bow my head, and let out a long breath.
She wantedit to be me?
I had a chance—an actual fucking chance—and I let her slip through my fingers.
Her footsteps thud up the staircase, each fading step like a punch to my gut.
“Happy Birthday, Princess,” I whisper as her door shuts with a mutedclick.
The sound punches the air from my lungs. Her scent still lingers—warm skin and something sweet—and it’s torture.
My chest aches, my hands curl into fists, and I’m left aching with the need to hold on to something that’s already gone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SADIE
JunemeltsintoJulyin a haze of heat, the days blurring into one long, hot stretch.
I barely have time to think, but I don’t mind—every sunrise, every late evening, it all feels brighter lately.
The hard work feels worth it because Lane has wormed his way into the quiet parts of my life—the mornings, the nights, and everything in between.
I don’t just like him. I’m drawn in, little by little. Every look feels like striking a match, every touch teaching me somethingnew. I let myself wonder how far this could go, imagine what it might mean if this is real.
His birthday was two days ago, and I’d planned a little surprise in a way I knew would make him smile.
I pretended to be the perfect little damsel in distress and told him Iris had wandered off, and that I couldn’t find her anywhere. I even got a little teary. Mia would’ve been proud.
He didn’t even hesitate, immediately grabbing his keys and jogging to his truck.
Iris was perfectly fine, curled up like a little cinnamon roll napping in a patch of sunlight by the barn. He didn’t need to know that part, though.
We drove until the ranch disappeared behind the mountains, the sky wide and endless above us. The truck was warm, holding the faint mix of pine and his cologne, a scent I swear clings to my skin long after he’s gone.
