The breath in my lungs burns. “And?”
“And he was up on the rigs in Fort Mac; probably still is. He’s got a wife and kid in Edmonton that he hardly ever comes home to see.”
“Why bother looking him up? Did you get some sense of closure from knowing his life sucks?”
“No. I don’t deserve closure for what happened. But you do.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and palm his cheek, craning my head back enough that I can meet his lowered gaze. The guilt eating away at the soft grey is entirely wrong. Rubbing the tension away from between his brows, I sigh.
“I’ve already found closure. It happened so long ago now, and other than the three of you, nobody ever saw the video. You kept it a secret and protected me from what could have happened if it had gotten out. The worst part of all of it was losing you.”
“Your privacy and trust was stolen from you. That shit was never supposed to happen.”
“But it did. And I’m the only one who gets to decide whether or not I’m truly over it.”
I watch as he digests that. Years upon years of pain linger inside of this man, all stemming from that fucking night, and I need to be the one to take that away.
“It’s time to let go of the resentment you have for yourself because of it. There wasn’t anything you could have done to stop him from recording me or from sharing it to get revenge. You can’t go back in time and hit him one less time. He’s a low-life loser who’s long gone. The year he got was better than nothing,” I whisper, ignoring the bite of resentment that sparks when I think back to the day we learned he’d only been sentenced to a year in prison.
Rowe’s fingers grip me tighter, digging deep into my flesh like he’s scared I’m going slip from his hold. I don’t so much as blink as he takes what he needs. We may be still learning about who we are now in the present, but he’s still so much the same as he used to be. Down at his roots, he’s the same boy I used to look at and wished would stare back the same way. All loopy-grinned and heart-eyed.
“I want to keep you.”
My palm grows clammy against his cheek as I stare into his suddenly clear gaze, hot-chested. I stumble over my words as my neurons fire in double time to try and think of the right ones to say.
“What?”
Really? That’s the best I can do?
Unbothered by the question, he glides his thumb along the length of my bottom lip before pressing down on it. Warm breath blows across my nose as the fire crackles.
“I want to keep you here, Tilly. On my ranch and in my bed,” he repeats, a slight growl clinging to the words. “I want a do-over.”
My entire body is on fire. I go from shocked to turned on to blisteringly happy in the time it takes a single word to plop out of my mouth. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
“When you drop something like that on a woman, you need to give her a minute to let it sink in,” I reply, swallowing the pointed rock caught in my throat.
“Right.”
I drag my fingers up the back of his neck, pressing hard to try and hide the tremble in them. “What exactly are we doing over?”
“I should have let you visit me when you tried. If I had, maybe it would have been easier to accept the words I read in your last letter. You were supposed to be there waiting for me when I got out, and I’ve hated myself for hurting you bad enough that you weren’t. Even if we had ignored every single thing we’d shared in the letters and went back to being good friends, I just wanted to see you there.”
“Are you planning on going back to jail, Rowe? If not, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about us having to schedule conjugal visits or what time I should be in the parking lot to pick you up.” I sound bitter, but it’s not anger that I’m feeling. It’s hurt and a bone-deep regret that laces through my middle like a red-hot poker.
The fear of repeating the same mistakes fills my lungs like poison. I feel it spread through my ribs and down into my stomach, forcing it to clench as I look past him. It’s dark beyondour campsite, the trees appearing more black than green as a soft breeze rustles the leaves on their branches.
I can’t hear our friends anymore, but I think they’re still talking. My ears are buzzing as this sudden panic rolls through me in endless waves. Can they hear us? Does Rowe know how fast my heart is beating?
He wants to keep me.
That’s what I’ve wanted from the time my tits grew from a B to a C cup and I realized boys stared at my ass when I wore shorts cut high. I used to leave my phone unlocked around him just so he’d be able to see the boys from school who would text me, asking to take me out. He always got so pissy when he did, and I think I got off on the power it gave me. Anything and everything I could do to try and gain even a second of his attention, I did.
Rowe’s love and affection fills all the tiny cracks in my chest and makes every scar disappear. But it’s that tiny, no-good voice in my head that reminds me he’s responsible for more than a handful of both. And if he could hurt me so badly all those years ago after nothing more than a few traded letters and a schoolgirl crush that was never officially acknowledged, then what could he do to me now?
I hold him tighter with one hand around his nape and the other pressing down on his shoulder while our eyes remain locked. If he knows how badly I’m freaking out, he isn’t showing it. Despite his open gaze, there’s nothing within it for me to see. Everything he’s telling me sounds honest. It feels like it too.
