We let the silence build, reaching that bracing, glacial standoff that always precedes the next big thaw. The moment stretched until I almost believed it would break, but Dante just got up, rinsed his mug in the sink, and leaned against the counter, arms folded, and gaze turned out to the empty lake.
I stood and followed him, placing my hand on his bicep. “Dante.”
He closed his eyes.
“Please look at me,” I pleaded.
He opened his eyes and looked at me, and I saw why he had been afraid to meet my gaze. His face was adorned with yearning and sadness.
“Can I kiss you?” He looked like a little boy begging for the last piece of candy, or how a child carries a longing for a special toy.
“Of course.”
He placed his lips on mine. It started as a soft touch, then it turned into something hungry and aching.
I let him kiss me, I let him weave his arms around my back and pull me close, because I knew it would help ease his hurt, and maybe I wanted it one last time too, before I dove into the unknown.
I kept my hands on his arms, not daring to engulf myself into him too much, otherwise it would be harder to walk away.
He reluctantly pulled away and looked deep into my gaze. “Fuck, Amelia,” he whispered, his voice so low and gruff. “You are going to haunt me for the rest of my life.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered against his breath. “If it makes you feel better, a part of me will always carry regret for not choosing a life with you. I think it’s because I know you would have been the better choice, but my heart is too big for its own good. It wants to be with Caiden, despite my feelings for you, despite how good it could be.”
He kissed me again after I said that. His lip movements were slower as if he wanted to remember the curve of my lips and how it felt to hold me in his arms.
Caiden came in through the screen door two hours later, the slam echoing across the kitchen tiles, and for a second I saw him as I had in high school: angry, dangerous, and dazzling.
His hair was wild from the wind and his cheeks were raw and red, eyes bright with the cold and something deeper.
He barely glanced at Dante, but his gaze snagged on me, lips parting like he wanted to say my name but didn’t trust his voice not to say more.
Dante rose, made a show of stacking his mug and book, then said, “I’ll be out back. Try not to kill each other.”
Caiden and I just stood there for a while, not speaking, until my nerves got the better of me. I traced the lip of my mug, pretending heat still lingered there. “Long walk?” I finally asked.
“Long enough,” he said, voice hoarse. “Didn’t want to come back.”
We both knew he would, though. I felt the air between us tightening, the heaviness of the unsaid, heavier than any of the bruises he’d left on me years ago.
“I thought about last night,” I said, suddenly, and tried not to flinch at my own boldness.
He grunted, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I enjoyed it,” I said, and I could feel the tension of our kiss augmenting.
“You sleep?” he changed the subject, not looking at me.
“Yeah. I did.”
He nodded, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. “We should get going. It’s a long drive. A day and a half if we push it.”
I looked around at the little lake house, still bathed in cold light, the bare pine floors echoing under every step. “I’ll miss this place,” I said. “It felt safe, at least for a minute.”
Dante came back in as we were collecting our things, hands shoved in his jacket. He was calm, not bitter, and I realized that the sadness had burned off him like morning fog, leaving something resigned and steady.
“You two heading back to where you came from?”
Caiden nodded as he brought the bags to the door. “Yep. Back to North Carolina. I want to get going while we have daylight.”
