Page 125 of Love Unspoken

I stepped away from him and put a hand on his cheek. "You shouldn't have to win anything to have your family's approval. That should be there unconditionally."

He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. It was not sexual but loving, full of affection and gratitude.

"Do you have that?"

I nodded. "My father is amazing. He's going to come here for Thanksgiving. I hope you'll have a chance to meet him. He's pretty impressed I'm now friends with the reigning PGL Champion…though he doesn't see golf as a real sport."

Jax narrowed his eyes teasingly. "We'll have to change his mind."

"My father is as blue-collar as it gets. Only contact sports, according to him, are the real thing." I leaned back into him and turned to face the water. "Thanks for having my back with Shelby and Flynn."

"I know you think I was doing you a favor, but we're friends, and I get as much being with you as you do being with me. No thanks needed, darlin'."

We stood there for a while longer, just watching the waves, the sound of the party a distant hum behind us.

After a while, I told him, "I think I'm going to go to bed. You should stay. Your friends are here."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm going to go drink the minibar," I said slyly, "And live to regret it tomorrow."

TWELVE

LUCAS

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

It had been a long day—a blur of meetings, a tense conversation with Hugh and Kath that left a sour taste in my mouth, and the constant, suffocating weight of expectations I was beginning to despise.

I'd been angry with Kath for trying to manipulate me, but now I was left with a cold, undeniable truth. I didn't want this life, this path that everyone else seemed so desperate for me to follow. I wanted something different, something that felt real, something that felt like…Amara.

I was just about to turn off the bedside lamp when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I grabbed it, not expecting much—maybe an email or a late-night notification—but when I saw Amara's name on the screen, my heart skipped a beat.

It was a text, and as I opened it, a small, crooked smile tugged at my lips.

Amara: You must be thrilled, Mr. Perfect. Your perfect life, the perfect girlfriend. Bet you're already planning your perfect wedding. Enjoy your perfect damn life.

She was drunk; that much was clear. There was no way Amara would send a message like this sober. The text was snarky and biting, but underneath it, I could sense the hurt. And I hated that I was the reason for it.

Without thinking twice, I hit the call button, hoping she'd pick up. The line rang a few times, and I was starting to think she might not answer when her slightly slurred voice came through the line.

"Lucas?" She sounded surprised like she hadn't expected me to call.

"Amara." I leaned back against the pillows. The sound of her voice made my heart hurt in a way that I couldn't explain. "You're up late."

She went to bed at a decent hour; my girl prioritized sleep.

Amara let out a soft laugh and I knew for sure she was drunk. "Could say the same for you. Is she with you?"

"No."

"So, are you up thinking about your perfect life with Kath?" She slurred the word perfect.

There was that bite again, but it didn't bother me. I deserved any of the snark Amara threw my way. "I'm not thinking about Kath." I ran a hand through my hair. "I was thinking about you."

There was a pause on the other end, and I could almost hear her brain trying to process my words through the haze of alcohol. "About me? Why?"

"Because," I exhaled slowly, "I miss you. I miss talking to you. I miss everything we had, and I'm starting to realize that I've been fucking up left and right since you walked out of my life."