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She doesn’t know how easy this is for me to admit.
“I’ll rip this city apart to find him,” I vow, knowing with his connections, my father could be in the wind until he dies. “I make that a dying promise. He hurt you. He doesn’t get to grovel for that.”
I feel her body come alive; her lips purse a little as her eyes narrow on me. It happens quickly.
Her lips find mine in a tender union and I want to revolt, to pull away from the gentleness of the moment, but there’s something about it that makes me an addict and quick.
This is us—no knives, no sharp tongues, no animosity.
Things have changed, but at the crux of it all, we haven’t. Not really.
While I can’t forget how much sharper she feels on the edges and she doesn’t disguise the fact, there’s something in the way she kisses me and how I accept it.
We longed for this. We waited for another kiss after we were viciously ripped apart.
Second chances aren’t a given in this life of ours, but apparently, we’re the exception.
We pull away and doleful eyes meet mine.
“So, you don’t hate me,darling boy?”
“Not even close, darling girl.”
