“As long as you don’t delete the one I took.” Those deep gray eyes fix on me, earnest.
I swallow. “Okay.”
Energy crackles between us. Something heavy, charged, and impossible to ignore.
“Ryan…” His tone is rougher now, almost questioning.
“What?”
“You know what.”
He kisses me, his hands moving to my waist. Sparks dance through me when the kiss deepens. His tongue brushes mine, a slow, careful slide that sends a thrill down my spine. I loop my arms around his neck, feeling the heat build between us.
His fingers trace the edge of my shirt, then slip underneath to tease my bare skin. When I shiver, he grins and tugs my shirt up and over my head. A flush rises in my cheeks as he looks at me, appreciative, his breath coming out a bit fast. Then he strips off his own shirt, and my palms instantly find his bare chest.
The rest of our clothes fall away. Chase takes his time, kissing my neck, my breasts, lower still. By the time he climbs back up, I’m spent and breathless, and he’s looking mighty pleased with himself. He leaves me only to get protection, and when he returns, I push him onto his back, leaning down to kiss him as my hips move over him. He grips my waist, and I moan against his lips, my hair falling like a curtain over our faces, and for the first time in a long time, something in my life feels completely, undeniably right.
Afterward, we curl up together on the couch, his arm drapedaround my shoulders. I rest my head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.
“Do you ever feel like you don’t really fit in?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
Chase laughs, but it’s not harsh. More like he’s amused by the idea. “All the time. I’m not exactly the type of guy people invite to birthday parties or whatever.”
“Yeah, same. I’ve never been that girl, you know? The one who’s popular or part of a clique. I like being on my own.”
“Everett’s the one who forced me out of that,” Chase admits, almost grudgingly, and guilt pierces my heart at the reminder of who we’re betraying. “He’s always dragging me to crap I don’t wanna do. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be even more of a loner.” He pauses. “Most times I’d rather stay invisible.”
I know exactly what he means. “Me too. I like being in the background. Not having people constantly watching, judging. I’d rather have one-on-one moments like this than be in the middle of a big group.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Just two people, no pressure. It’s better.”
We both go quiet for a moment. I think about my scrapbook, all those old photographs of my mother. There’ll never be any new pictures to add to it. The thought makes my chest clench.
“I’ve been thinking about my mom a lot lately,” I confess.
Chase seems startled by the abrupt topic change. “Okay.”
I swallow. “Wondering if I could have done something to save her.”
“Wasn’t it a car accident?”
I nod, feeling bad about the lie. “I still wish I could’ve beenthere. And I don’t know how to let it go—the grief. I’ve been carrying it around for so long.”
“I thought she died this summer.”
I freeze, chiding myself for the slip-up. “No, she did. I’m just saying itfeelslike I’ve carried this grief forever.”
Chase runs his fingers over my hip. “Look, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that grief can eat you alive. If you don’t find a way to let it go, it won’t let you move forward.”
“But if I let it go…doesn’t that mean I’m forgetting her?”
“No. It means you’re letting yourself live. Your mom wouldn’t want you tied down like this. She’d want you to be free.”
I look up at him, grateful for his assurances, but just as I start to feel lighter, my phone buzzes on the coffee table. After how badly I scared my aunt and uncle the night at the lake, I waste no time checking the notification in case it’s them.
It’s not.
UNKNOWN:Happy holidays, Gabrielle.
