“I couldn’t steal your life from you and keep you to myself, you know?” he explains. “But then I realized that you’re not happy or hopeful or making me feel good because you’re young. You are those things and you’re capable of those things, because you’re a good person. It’s who you are.”
A tear spills over, gliding down my cheek.
“Baby,” he whispers, his hands shaking. “I hope you love me, because I love you like crazy, and I’m going to want you the rest of my life. I tried to stay away, because I thought it was the right thing, but I fucking can’t. I need you, and I love you. This doesn’t happen twice, and I’m not going to be stupid again. I promise.”
My chin trembles, and something lodges in my throat, and I try to hold it in, but I can’t. My face cracks, and I break down, turning away from him. The tears come like a goddamn waterfall, and I hate him. I fucking hate him.
His arms are around me in a second, and he hugs me from behind, burying his face in my neck.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” he whispers in my ear.
“You did,” I cry. “You took so long.”
“I’ll make it up to you.” He turns me around and clutches my face, pressing his lips to my ear. “I promise.”
He holds me for a while, and my pride tells me not to give in. Not to let anyone in and no more second chances.
But I’m not completely certain I wouldn’t do the same thing if I were in his shoes. Cole, Lindsay, Shel, my sister, Dutch, the whole neighborhood…they’ll talk. Some will judge him for this. His fear is justified.
But they don’t know. They don’t know how lucky we are and how good it is.
I love him.
I pull away and wipe at my tear drops on his T-shirt. “And I didn’t put the picture frames back in the wrong spot,” I tell him. “That’s where they belong.”
He laughs, wiping away the tears on my face, and brings me in, kissing me. Everything floods back—his mouth, soft but strong, and his taste—and kiss him back, rising up on my tiptoes to deepen it.
“Need a room?” someone chimes in. “You came to the right place.”
I pull away again, and Pike clears his throat as Danni walks in and sits back on the stool.
“Pike, this is Danni,” I say. “Danni, Pike.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says.
“Yeah, you, too.” He holds out his hand, and they shake.
“So, do you guys want a room?” she asks again. “On the house?”
She pulls the last room key out of the cubbie and holds it out.
He leans over, taking it. “Thank you. Really. That’d be great.”
She shifts her gaze to me, and I can tell she’s looking for confirmation that everything is okay. I nod, assuring her.
“Well, have a good night,” she tells us. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Pike takes my hand, and we walk outside, the humid August air already damp on my arms. He clutches me like he’s going to lose me as we walk to his truck and retrieve his duffel bag and a little package. I laugh, seeing mud still all over his door and the tires.
Walking to the room, I pass the five I doled out to “Tyler” and his ladies, and I can hear music, chatter, and laughing from inside several of them. We pass another room with curtains drawn, but light from the TV pierces the fabric.
Up the sidewalk, one of the regulars, Peter, walks to the Coke machine with a sword strapped to his naked back and wearing his usual black leather pants.
“What the hell is that?” Pike mumbles to me, looking at him.
“That’s Peter,” I say, admiring the black hair that drapes damn-near down to his waist. “He’s here every weekend, LARPing.”
Pike pinches his brows together and looks at me.