Her eyes widened immediately.
“I’m not saying that to trap you. I’m saying it because it’s true. And I just didn’t know what it was until it started to hurt.”
She touched my jaw.
“I’m drunk,” I added, “but not that drunk.”
“I know.”
Her fingers stayed there, tracing the edge of my stubble. I leaned into it. Desperate for contact. Gone my whole life never needing it. Now I was addicted to her touch. It was so fucking pathetic. Yet. I couldn’t stop myself.
She smiled then. Just a flicker. But it grounded me more than anything else had in weeks. Her palm stayed over my heart like she was keeping it from breaking again.
She looked the same. Completely untouchable.
“Madeline, you’re beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m also right.” I shifted slightly, enough to see more of her. “You’re…too beautiful. Like, it hurts to look at you sometimes.”
She gave me this look, like she wasn’t sure if I was teasing or unraveling.
“That’s the alcohol talking.”
“No,” I tried to shake my head. “That’s me. I don’t say shit when I don’t mean it. Not even drunk.”
I sighed tracing her wrist. “I missed your mouth. Not even the kissing. Just your mouth when you talk. The way you smile. How you say things like you’ve already weighed the consequences.”
Her nails ran down my shoulders. “Vince?—”
“I missed your eyes. The way they shift shades depending on the light. I missed your hands. I missed that sigh you make when you sit down too fast. I missed your laugh. I missed your walk. I missed you stealing my shirt and calling it a rental.”
“Stop—”
“I missed everything.”
Finally, she moved. Her hand reached for mine beneath the sheets, threading our fingers together. I held her like she might vanish.
“I just needed a minute,” she whispered.
“I wasn’t going to disappear forever. I just… I was scared. Not of you. Okay, maybe a little. But I scared myself more. Because I didn’t see what they saw. You looked like something out of a nightmare and all I could think was—I know those hands. I know those eyes. I came in his arms two days ago, and now the whole world’s terrified of him and I’m not. What kind of girl does that make me?”
“The kind who knows me.”
“Do I?” She looked down.
“You think I wanted you to see that? That wasn’t for you. That was business. That was—just syndicate shit.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.” I sat up slightly, bracing my arm beside her head. “You think I’m proud of it? You think I don’t hear their voices in my sleep sometimes? The shit I’ve done? The lives I’ve ended? That night was tame.”
She gripped my arm tighter. “I know,” she said again, gentler now. “That’s why I came back. Because no matter what the world sees, I saw you.”
I leaned into her, brushing my forehead against hers. I really wasn’t subtle drunk. “You’re gonna leave when the sun’s up.”
“No.”
