I tuck my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching out and touching him. “I… needed to talk to you.” My voice is rough.
He blinks, rain sliding down his cheek. “So, you came to a bar to… lurk in a corner like some tragic ex?”
Oof. Accurate. Direct hit. If shame were heat, the rain would’ve evaporated off me. But I’m not copping to that. “I wasn’t lurking,” I lie. “I was waiting for the right time to interrupt.”
He snorts—an amused, incredulous sound. “Observing what? Me getting hit on? Because that guy was two minutes away from asking for my number.” He’s not bragging, just stating facts.
I inhale sharply. “I noticed.”
Xavier steps closer. “Yeah. I figured you did.” It’s the little things, the gentle chaos in his eyes, the jut of his chin, the easy way he moves in my direction.
The rain picks up, turning insistent. People rush past us with umbrellas, annoyed at the weather. But we stay still,neither of us feeling the cold despite already being soaked to the skin. I swallow hard. “I didn’t like it.”
His heated gaze flicks down to my mouth, then back up. “Didn’t like what?”
“The way he touched you,” I admit. “Or the way you laughed with him.” My pulse hammers. “I wanted… I wanted that to be me.”
Xavier’s breath hitches—barely—but enough to detonate something in my chest. “Then why did you leave?”
Because I’m broken in places I don’t have time to fix. Because feelings are a luxury I don’t allow myself. Because wanting him terrifies me more than facing down my father ever did. Instead of saying any of that, I step closer. Close enough to feel what little heat he has left.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, not fighting the urge to reach out and sweep my fingers across the apple of his cheek. “For what I did. For leaving. For hurting you when you… didn’t deserve it.”
His jaw flexes. “I waited for a message, Artemis. A call. And email. Anything.”
“I know.” My voice cracks. “I know. And I’m trying to do better. I want to do better.”
He searches my face, eyes softening like he sees something real beneath all the armor. We stand like two idiots getting soaked in the rain under the blurry streetlights.
“What was that text about?” he finally asks.
I huff a breath. “The latte?” I grimace. “An accident.”
He rolls his eyes. “An accident you didn’t delete.”
“I didn’t want to delete it.” My throat works. “I wanted you to see it. To know you were on my mind.”
Something in Xavier melts at that. It’s gentle, bright, and utterly devastating, like a firework detonating in front of my eyes. He steps into me, chest brushing mine. His hands come up, tentative, like he’s waiting for me to pull back.
I don’t so he links them behind my neck. “Artemis,” he whispers, his voice coarse, rainwater clinging to his lashes, “if you want me… actually want me… want this… you need to show it.”
I cup his jaw, thumb brushing the raindrops trailing down his cheek. “I’m here, aren’t I?” It’s the bravest confession I’ve managed in years. It’s a start. And it has to count for something.
His breath catches. “You were here last time, too.”
I wince, a barb of guilt spearing my gut. I deserve that. And I don’t know what to say to make it better. I guess I’ll just have to show him.
When he arches up into me, I meet him halfway, our mouths crashing together in a kiss that tastes like rain and want and every apology I’m not articulate or emotionally intelligent enough to make. Every soaked inch of him crowds into every hollow place in me until there’s no oxygen left that isn’t Xavier-shaped.
He fists my sodden shirt. I pull him closer. The world blurs around us—lights smeared, thunder rumbling somewhere distant, the rhythmic pounding of rain off the sidewalk.
I kiss him like he belongs in my arms. He kisses me like he’s been waiting for me to get my head out of my ass. And for the first time in a very long time, maybe ever, I feel the ground shift under my feet.
CHAPTER 28
Xavier
“Ireally am sorry.” Artemis’s intensity increases with each time he apologizes. Which, given we’re in the car on the way to what I assume is the place he took me last time, is a lot. It isn’t a long drive, but he seems determined to make me believe him. And I do.
