The question strips me bare.Because the truth is terrifying, and I’ve spent months—years—running from it.
“You terrify me,” I say finally, and the words feel like surrender.“Not because I don’t trust you.Because I do.And trusting someone means caring about them.And caring about them means I have something to lose.And I’ve watched what happens to people I care about.”
My voice cracks on the last words, and her eyes soften.
“So have I,” she says quietly.She moves closer still, until there’s barely any space between us.“But maybe...maybe the worst thing isn’t losing someone.Maybe the worst thing is not trying at all.”
We’re close now.Close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes, the way her pulse beats at her throat, the slight part of her lips as her breath catches.
The air between us is charged with three months of distance and years of unspoken wanting.
I raise my hand again, and this time I don’t stop.My fingers brush her cheek, and she’s so soft, so alive.She leans into my touch, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Shelby,” she breathes.
I kiss her.
It’s restrained at first—tentative, asking permission with every movement.Her lips are warm under mine, and she tastes like mint and sweet promises.She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and her hands come up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer.
The kiss deepens.Not desperate, but committed.Temptation wrapped in desire as I savor her mouth, as her lips move against mine.I cup her face with both hands, careful of my injured shoulder, and pour everything I can’t say into this kiss—the fear, the longing, the terrible certainty that this could destroy us both.
I’m terrified, and I’m choosing this anyway.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.Her lipstick is smudged—dark plum against her olive skin—and her eyes are wide and dark.
“So what do we do now?”she asks, her voice unsteady, a note of wonder in it.
I rest my forehead against hers, my hands still cradling her face.“We take it one day at a time.We figure out if there’s something real underneath all this.”
“And if there is?”
I pull back enough to look into her eyes, seeing her fragility and her strength mixed there in equal measure.“Then we find a way to make it survive our world.”
She nods slowly as determination settles over her features.Serena DiLorenzo doesn’t do anything halfway.If she’s choosing this—choosing me—she’ll fight for it with everything she has.
The thought scares the shut out of me.
The thought exhilarates me.
“Stay,” I hear myself say.“Just for a while.I don’t—“ I stop, swallow hard.“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Okay,” she says.
We lie down on the couch, and she tucks herself against my good shoulder like she’s done this a thousand times before.Her head rests in the hollow of my neck, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.
For the first time in three months—maybe longer—I feel like I can breathe.
Outside, Boston glitters in the darkness.Inside, Serena DiLorenzo falls asleep against my chest, and I let myself believe, just for tonight, that maybe I’m not too broken to deserve this.
Even if I know better.
Even if I know that everyone I care about ends up hurt or dead.
Even if I know this is the beginning of something that could destroy us both.
For tonight, I hold her close and let myself pretend that vulnerability doesn’t equal death.
That maybe it equals life instead.
