Page 23 of More Than My Hometown

Another long moment of silence passes, my insides doing a conga line, while my outsides fail to react in any sort of matching form. The rain picks up again, the sound of it echoing off every surface. Ewan’s face falls, his eyes fluttering shut as he sighs, his whole body deflating.

He nods curtly, flicking his gaze back up to me. “It’s been good to see you, Mais.”

Turning slowly, he dips his head, as if that’s somehow going to save him from the rain, then heads down the small flight of stairs. I watch him, my pulse thundering, heart calling out to him like a ship in the night, trying to bring him back.

Maisey Margaret Phillips…don’t be a dumbass…

I can hear my grandmother’s voice loud and clear in my head. Although, to be fair, Grandma probably wouldn’t use the word dumbass. She’d tell me to stop being dumber than a bag of hammers or some other gentle Southern insult. But either way, she’d have no problem tearing me up one side and down the other over this.

That boy did not just stand here pourin’ his heart out for you to not do the same, young lady…

No…no, he did not.

Without another thought, I take off running. The rain is cold, my bare feet scrunching from the shock as my toes hit the puddles. But I can’t let him get away. Not again.

Good thing he didn’t get far.

“Ewan Porter Hayes!” I scream into the rain. “You’re an idiot!”

Ewan spins around, his hands tucked into his pockets, fractals of light from the streetlamp shining through the rain behind him. He opens his mouth to respond—maybe to argue—but I don’t let him.

“I love you. I always have. You have never been my backup plan. Ever. You were my primary plan. At least until you told me you didn’t want me.”

I swallow hard. Reaching down to find the same courage he did to tell me all those things. And I do.

I find the small box I’ve kept hidden inside me of all the things I’ve wanted to say. Wanted to scream at him. And I unleash it. Right here, in the middle of the pouring rain, in the back alley between the main strip of stores downtown, the old historic house that has been converted into apartments.

“How could you possibly believe that I didn’t love you? How?” I throw my arms out wide, not bothering to fight the tears that push through. “That was the whole reason I made the ketchup pact to begin with. Because I thought the only chance I would ever have at being your girl was to be your backup plan. And that day I asked you to come with me? That was me handing you my heart, you dumbass! That’s why I told you I wanted us to be together!”

I suck in a breath, getting ready to unleash the next round. To continue to let him have it. To put him in his place.

But Ewan has another idea.

He closes the gap between us in three massive strides, his gait purposeful and determined. I don’t have time to breathe, much less think, before his hands are cradling my head, fingers weaving through my hair, and his lips are pressed to mine. He captures my mouth in a hard, punishing kiss, and everything stops.

All out stops.

Instantly, I see stars, the gentle power of his lips and the taste of his tongue overpowering me in a way that I can’t describe. Every inch of me starts to tingle, this indescribable feeling flowing through me like lava, from the top of my head straight to the tip of my toes. Nothing else matters, nor will it ever matter again. Because right now, all there is, is this.

The safety and peace of Ewan Hayes’s kiss.

I grip on to him tighter, trying to make this last. I’ve waited so long for this, resigned myself to never knowing what this would be like, and I know that no matter when it ends, it will be over too soon. But then he deepens it, yanking me in closer, his tongue swiping against mine, and I’m done for.

Nothing else will ever live up to this.

Slowly—hesitantly—Ewan pulls back, his lips lingering against mine for a beat, sending another shock wave through me. I attempt to catch my breath, something that is easier said than done, not sure that I can stand on my own two feet.

Rocking backward, I try, my knees wobbling, but Ewan is right there, catching me as I stumble from his knee-weakening kiss. I hold on tight, wrapping my fingers around his thick forearms, feeling the blood rush through my veins with each beat of my heart.

“Probably should have done that a long time ago,” Ewan whispers, resting his forehead against mine.

I chuckle, for the first time in forever feeling like I have my best friend back. Damn, it feels good.

“Timing was never your thing,” I joke, hoping I can still do that.

He scoff-laughs, and even without looking, I can feel the smile spreading across his face. The Ewan smile—the shy, sheepish grin that still gives me butterflies.

“That’s why I had you.”