Kira stared at the ground, kicking lightly at a tuft of grass before finally lifting her eyes to meet mine. There was something raw and searching in her gaze. “I saw my parents the other day.”
“You went to Wisconsin?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I talked to my mom about the letter.”
I went still, hanging onto every word like they were the edge of a cliff I didn’t want to fall from. “What did she say?”
“She admitted to hiding the first page. She left behind only the page that said ‘I’m sorry.’” Her voice wavered. “Landon, I’m sorry for not believing you.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize.”
“But—”
“No buts.” I reached for her hand, brushing my fingers lightly against hers. “It’s unfortunate that it happened, but we can’t change the past. Maybe we needed to grow individually away from each other.”
Kira looked away, her jaw trembling ever so slightly. “I don’t feel like I’ve grown much. I’m still struggling to know who I am.”
I let out a breath, stunned. “You’re kidding, right? You used to shy away from any leadership role, and now you lead an art class. You used to struggle with speaking your mind, but you’ve had no problem telling me your true thoughts recently. Not to mention, you’re applying for an elite art residency program. Your twenties are for figuring out who you are, which is exactly what you’re doing.”
“The residency is only because of you.”
“I may have encouraged you to apply, but the rest is all you.”
Her eyes glistened. “Things are just easier with you, Landon. Better. You make me feel secure, like I can accomplish anything. You make me feel cherished.” Her chin wobbled. “I hate that we’ve lost so much time.”
“Youarecherished,” I said, barely above a whisper. I took her hand fully this time and held it to my chest. “And you’re loved. Always were. I hate the lost time too, but we’re here now. That’s what matters.”
She gave a trembling nod, blinking fast. “I used to be so scared of change. Of getting hurt again. That’s why I’m trying to do more things that terrify me.”
I brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek.
“I’m not afraid when I’m with you,” she whispered. “With other people, I always had to perform or be something they expected. But you see me, Landon.”
I swallowed, overwhelmed. “What are you saying, Kira?”
“I want us to have a second chance.” Her voice was stronger now. Certain. “I want to be with you.”
I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, tentative at first—then fully, deeply—as she melted into me. Warmth spread through my chest, so strong it felt like sunlight had cracked me open from the inside. My heart pounded, but in a steady, exhilarating way.
“Really?”
“Really,” she whispered back, her voice muffled against my shoulder. Then she leaned back just far enough to smirk through her tears. “But don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you in kickball.”
“I would never.”
Her lips parted slightly, and before I could think better of it, my fingers brushed against her wrist. Just barely. But even that tiny touch sent a pulse of heat through me. She didn’t pull away.
Her eyes locked on mine, daring me, waiting, and when her gaze dropped to my lips, the last thread of restraint I had snapped.
I didn’t hesitate. I surged forward, my hands finding herwaist as my lips crashed against hers. The moment our mouths met, the tension that had been stretching between us exploded.
She gasped into the kiss, and I swallowed the sound, pulling her closer, needing her closer. Her fingers curled into my shirt, gripping it like she was afraid I’d pull away. No chance in hell.
I deepened the kiss, tilting my head to taste more of her, to feel every inch of the moment I’d been craving for longer than I was willing to admit. Her hands slid up my chest, over my shoulders, her touch setting my skin on fire.
The kickball field, the past, and the world disappeared. There was only the heat of her mouth, the way her body pressed against mine, the slow, aching realization that I was completely, hopelessly lost in her.
17
