“You meant all of it,” she said, her voice scratchy. “Every word.”
I nodded. “I didn’t know how else to say goodbye.”
She exhaled, choppy and uneven, like that hurt worse than reading the damn letter. “Then why didn’t you send it? I knew all along that you didn’t do what they said you did. Why didn’t you tell me before you went away?”
“I didn’t want to trap you. It was my fault Kacen got caught up with that gang. If I’d been paying more attention to what he was going through, he never would have been in that situation in the first place. He was a good kid, but I failed him.”
“Kingston, you were only a kid yourself.” She reached out and rested her hand on my arm.
It had been so fucking long since I’d felt her touch. I wanted to lean into it and have her tell me that we could go back to how things were, that we could still pretend that nothing had changed. It was way too late for that though.
“I was still the one in charge. My mom was out of her mind on whatever kind of drugs she could get her hands on. When she found out my dad cheated and moved Kacen and me to Chicago, she pretty much gave up. So when he got involved with those kids, I was the one who should have noticed.” The guilt still ran deep. Even though I’d sacrificed my own future to give him a chance at his own, I hadn’t been able to forgive myself for not being there for him in the first place.
“Your dad should have stepped in.” She squeezed my arm before letting her hand fall away. I couldn’t stand being that close to her without touching, so I turned toward the fire.
“He was dealing with his own demons. It was just us. I did what I thought was best at the time.”
“And let everyone, including me, believe that you were guilty of armed robbery. It didn’t make sense. I tried reaching out to your mom, then your dad. I even called Kacen, but no one got back to me. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? You sent one text before you got arrested that you were going away for a long time and I should forget you. That’s it.”
My heart cracked right down the middle at the pain in her voice. “I didn’t want you wasting your life on a man who might never be the same. Six years into my sentence, I wrote you that letter, but I couldn’t send it.”
“Why?” Her brows pulled together. “I would’ve waited. I did wait.”
“That’s not what I wanted,” I said, my voice quiet. “All I could think about was how much I’d already taken from you. I thought… if I could let you move on, then maybe it would’ve been worth it.”
She shook her head. “You don’t get to decide what would’ve been worth it. I would’ve stood by you. Every single day. If only you’d asked.”
I moved closer, just a few steps, not enough to crowd her, but enough that I could feel the electricity hum between us.
“I didn’t ask,” I said. “And that’s on me. I was scared.” That admission landed between us like a dead weight. I wasn’t used to saying it out loud—hell, I wasn’t used to saying much at all anymore. But Scarlett had always been the exception to every rule.
“I don’t need you to be scared now,” she said after a beat. “I need you to be honest.”
I met her eyes. “About what?”
She hesitated, then tilted her head back to meet my gaze. “What really happened in there? In prison.”
I swallowed. Hard. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, the pain behind my ribs threatening to tear me in two.
“I don’t want to tell you that,” I said. “Not because I don’t trust you. But because it’ll change the way you look at me.”
She stepped forward, so close now I could see the freckles dusted across her cheeks, the flecks of gold in her dark eyes.
“You’re wrong,” she whispered. “You think hiding the truth protected me, but it only broke me worse. If we’re going to fix this—if there’s even a chance—we have to stop pretending the past didn’t happen.”
My heart pounded. “It’ll hurt you.”
“Then let it hurt.” Her voice trembled. “I can take it.”
I looked at her, standing there in my sweatshirt, her hands shaking, her chin high. I’d never loved anyone the way I’d loved her. Fuck, the way I loved her still. I couldn’t give her all the details. Not yet. But I told her about the fight. About the man whose life I saved. About the broken ribs, the concussion, the scar on my cheekbone I still kept hidden under a beard and baseball cap. And when I was done, her eyes filled again. But this time, she didn’t cry.
She reached up and touched the edge of my jaw, her fingers shaking. “You should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“I’ve always seen you,” she whispered.
The silence that followed was so loud it made my ears hurt. I stepped back before I did something stupid. Like pull her into my arms. Like kiss her and beg her to forgive me.
