Page 24 of What Should Have Been Ours

We both stand up after I give the waiter the bill back.

I step closer to her, my voice low now, softer. “It was really good seeing you again and catching up.” I pause, watching the way she swallows. “But being back around you feels too good to walk away from again, Gab. So don’t make me.”

She drops her gaze and then looks back up at my eyes. “Just try not to run off for another twelve years and ghost me, okay?”

“Promise,” I say, holding up my pinky. “Promises are only legally bound by the pinky,” I add, holding mine out to her like we’re still kids.

She hesitates and then reaches up, locking our pinkies together, and a shot of electricity shoots through me at the simple touch.

I wonder if she remembers the little handshake we used to do every time we made a pinky promise to each other.

I fight the urge to do it and embarrass myself.

We drop our hands, and both stand there for a moment, not wanting to walk away.

Before she can step away, I move—slow and careful, like I’m giving her every chance to back out. But she doesn’t. She just watches me.

I slide an arm around her waist, pulling her into a hug. My touch is careful but firm, like I need her to know—this isn’t just a polite hug. This is me memorizing how she feels in my arms again. This is me grounding myself in the reality that she’s here, that I’m here, that somehow, after all this time, we’re in the same space again.

She instantly melts into my arms, and it feels right.

I don’t want to mess any of this up with her. I don’t want to push her too fast. I want to keep her this time.

For as long as I’m alive, I swear I’m not letting her slip away again.

She exhales softly against my chest, hugging me back, and I close my eyes for just a second, memorizing everything—the way she fits against me, the way her fingers curl slightly into my jacket like she doesn’t want to let go either.

How did I survive all those years without this?

I hold her there, tightening my grip just a little. Not enough to make her pull away, just enough to let her know that this hug means something more. That she means something more. That even if we don’t have the words for it yet, something between us is still there.

Then she shifts, and I feel it before she even moves, the way her body tenses up slightly, the way she exhales like she’s pulling herself back into reality.

I don’t want to let go, but I do, slowly, hating how it feels.

She steps back, her arms falling to her sides, and her eyes looking up to meet mine. There’s something in her expression I can’t quite read, something cautious.

And then she smiles just a little, easing the tension. “Still obnoxiously good at those, huh?”

I laugh quietly, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Not my fault you turn into putty the second I touch you.”

She rolls her eyes while shaking her head. “Still delusional, huh?”

At least she’s smiling. And if I didn’t already know how utterly screwed I was when it came to this girl, that smile would seal it.

I take a slow step back, nodding toward the door. “I’ll text you the details for the game?”

She hesitates for just a fraction of a second before nodding. “Yeah, sounds good.”

At least I have another reason to see her again, and I’ll take any excuse at this point to be around her.

I pause to look at her one more time before turning toward the door. “See you soon, Voss.”

And as I step outside into the cool air, I swear—I feel lighter than I have in years.

11

Gabrielle