Page 56 of Until We Come Home

“I’m going to head back to my cabin,” she says, not stopping. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow.”

It takes everything in me to stay put on the dock, to keep from chasing her down the trail, to tell her I’m completely, hopelessly in love with her and that I want forever with her. Instead, I stand in the midnight air and watch her disappear into the shadows. She was right. I really am a coward.

CHAPTER 14

Mia

My hands are shaking as I hurry down the dark, wooded trail, nearly stumbling over an exposed root in my rush to reach the cabin. My brain is spinning out of control.

I was this close to kissing him right then and there, every nerve ending in my body screaming for him. I wanted him to shove me up against the railing and fuck me right there on the dock.

So much for keeping things strictly platonic. And the argument—God, the argument. We've had the occasional disagreement over the years, but nothing that ever cut this deep. Nothing that felt so dangerously raw.

When I finally reach my small cabin, I throw the door open and slam it shut behind me, leaning back against the wood with my chest heaving as I try to make sense of the madness. Sliding down to the floor, I bury my face in my hands, replaying how I almost kissed him over and over.

I hate how instantly my body responded and the desperate ache settling low in my core. Every nerve feels exposed and wide awake, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never been this turned on in my entire life. It takes every single drop of self-control I possess not to march right back down to the water and finish what we started.

Worst of all, there was so much truth in the sharp words he threw at me. He managed to voice the exact doubts I’ve been running from, the ones I’ve buried because I don’t want to admit he’s right. The ones I so badly don’t want to believe.

Because I can’t. My whole life is built on this. It has to be just some kind of quarter-life crisis that will pass. It has to pass.

My head drops back against the door, because more than anything I want him to fuck me right now and make me his, completely, and no one else’s.

I am so ridiculously screwed.

So much for taking the mature road. Instead, I'm barreling down the worst possible track, making mess after mess, and risking the one person I can't bear to lose.

A sudden knock on the door frame makes me jump. Panic surges through me. Mateo came after me, and I know I don't have the strength to fight him off with a bed sitting just a few feet away. I force myself up, my pulse racing wild and hot as I pull the door open.

“Mateo, I—” The words die in my throat as I freeze.

It isn't Mateo. Derek is standing on the porch, holding a quiet, hopeful smile in the dim moonlight.

“Oh. Were you expecting Mateo?” he asks, his brow furrowing with a tiny touch of confusion.

“Er, no, I just...” Pure adrenaline spikes through my veins as I try to smooth out my expression. “What are you doing up? It's late, I figured you'd be out cold after such an exhausting day.”

“You mean the near-drowning experience and the embarrassing rescue?” he asks, letting out a self-deprecating laugh.

I really don't feel like hashing this out right now, but I try not to seem completely insensitive. He went through a terrifying moment out in the lake, and he's still shaken up by it.

“It wasn't embarrassing at all,” I tell him. “Like Mateo said, it happens to even the strongest swimmers. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Even whispering Mateo's name sets off something dangerous in my chest, my mind spinning back to the electric tension we left behind down on the dock.

“Well,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “I caught your light on from the path. You doing alright? Your face is a little flushed.”

I hesitate, weighing how much I ought to confess. But Derek and I have always maintained a policy of consequence-free honesty, and I'm useless at hiding the truth anyway.

“Um, Derek,” I start, my face going warm. “Something almost happened out there with Mateo. I came inches from kissing him. I'm so sorry. I know how terrible this looks after asking you out here, but it just happened, and I feel awful.”

He stays quiet for a long second while the smile fades from his face and his shoulders drop, and I’m left wondering if honesty is always the best policy when all it seems to do is hurt the people I care about.

“Almost,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “So is there something there? With him?”

If only I fucking knew. It feels like a hidden door I’m terrified to unlock, like peeking inside might unravel all of it, the friendship, the life I’ve made, the version of me I know how to be. So I keep it shut, and I make sure I never get close enough to look. I swallow hard and make myself breathe.

“I don’t know,” I say, eyes on my shoes. “Probably not. It was just... a sharp, messy argument that got out of hand. It didn’t mean anything.”