A Wright Christmas

“Really? I thought you’d want to perform forever.”

“I do,” I said immediately. “More than anything.”

I didn’t bring up my injury. Or the pain that still radiated through my knee when I danced. I knew I couldn’t dance forever, but I couldn’t imagine giving it up either.

“But eventually, I mean, sometime in the future, I want to do this. It feels a bit like a test run.”

“That’s good though, right? You get to try out the job you think you want. Then, in, like, ten years, you can decide if you want to retire from ballet.”

I laughed. Ten years. Very few dancers continued into their forties. I’d need a miracle to be one of them. But I didn’t say that either.

“And you’re working at Wright Construction,” I said, changing the subject. “Tell me about that.”

“Well, I’m the full-time project manager. I mainly oversee the largest projects we have, such as the Buddy Holly Hall.”

“You helped build the performing arts center?” I asked in awe.

“Not build exactly, but I manage the teams. I’m in charge of organizing everything, making sure the money is coming in from all the right places. That sort of thing. I’m not really the boots-on-the-ground guy anymore. Actually, I’m pretty excited about a new project, but it’s kind of a secret.”

He looked at me with those bright green eyes, which asked me if I could keep a secret. And I shifted closer, wanting nothing more than to dive deep into that gaze and never surface.

“Yes?”

“Lubbock is getting a professional soccer team. It’s Division II, but they’ve hired Wright to design and build it.”

My eyebrows rose. “Wow! That’s great news for you! And you get to be a part of it?”

“Yep. Jensen and Morgan brought me in to consult on the facility since I have experience.”

“You must be thrilled.”

He couldn’t even come close to keeping the smile off of his face. “I am. I can’t wait to get started and to have games to go to. I miss it so much.” He took my hand, interlacing our fingers together. “Speaking of Wright, they’re actually having a Christmas party next week. Do you have any interest in going?”

“With you?” I asked in surprise.

He laughed. “Yes, with me.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.” Damn Piper for being right that I was going to need more than a carry-on’s worth of clothes.

“You could wear this,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t care.”

“A girl does not wear this to a Wright Christmas party,” I said with an eye roll. “I’ll find something. I’d love to go.”

We came to a corner of the lights that was the divider point. A few benches had been placed in a semicircle around the opening in the vines. The last couple had just vacated the area, leaving us all alone.

I finished off my wine, tossing the cup into a nearby trash can, and took a seat on the bench. Isaac dropped down next to me, and when he noticed me shivering, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

“I missed you, Peyton,” he said softly.

I turned and met his gaze, suddenly realizing we were mere inches apart. My heart hammered in my chest. My mouth went dry. I was lost. Utterly and completely lost. How had so much time passed, and yet I felt exactly how I had all those years earlier? Isaac Donoghue completed me. And I hadn’t known how empty I’d been living without him.

“Isaac,” I whispered back.

His free hand came up and cupped my jawline, gently rubbing his thumb across my cheek. “Don’t think about tomorrow. Just be here with me.”

I didn’t know how he had seen the fear in my eyes. The fear that I was leaving and this was going to break us even worse than the last time. But he saw, and it dissolved with his words.

He drew me in closer. Our noses touched in the dark. My breath hitched as the contact sent fire through my body, straight to my core. One little touch, and we sizzled. Anything more, and we’d cause an inferno.

“Isaac,” I pleaded. Not knowing whether I was pushing him away or pulling him closer.

He didn’t wait. He fit his mouth to mine perfectly. I groaned deep in the back of my throat as energy rushed through me.

Sixteen years I’d kissed these lips with tears running down my cheeks and salt on our tongues. Now, that was gone, and in its place was a sense of newness, of rediscovery.

Not hesitant, not questioning, but inviting and explorative. A heat suffused me, not from the wine, but from his lips and tongue and body. The way he eased away every tension I’d ever had. And I was completely subsumed by him. Not a single part of me wanted to walk away from this.

For I knew this boy—body, mind, and soul—and he’d stolen my heart long ago. This kiss sealed that he wasn’t giving it back.