“Yes, Picasso of his generation,” I mutter, handing him tea.
“I can’t remember the last time someone made me tea.”
He says it lightly, but it still breaks my heart a little.Without thinking, I make him a sandwich. When our fingers brush, I look away too fast.
“How are you coping?” I ask softly.
“I’ve been better. But it is what it is.”
“That’s a very Xaden answer,” I smile faintly.Then the air shifts, heavy, charged. My eyes flick to his mouth, then to his tattoos.
Look away, Cole.
“You okay?” Xaden asks, low, almost teasing. Like before. My stomach flips. But things are far from okay.
“Xaden,” I say, setting my tea aside. “You were gone for four years. How could you do that?”
He looks devastated.But I need him to listen. “I hated not knowing where you were,” I choke out. “I was worried. Hurt. Angry. But mostly I just missed you. Then people started saying you were in prison. And I was so tired, because Noah didn’t sleep—” My tears spill.
“And I kept holding onto what you said about your dad, and about loving me forever. I thought you were out there being good. Doing the right thing. But then I heard different. That you chose this life. With people like them. And it broke me, Xaden. It made me feel worthless. Like leaving me cost you nothing.”
Before I can go on, he pulls me close. His face is wrecked.There’s a second of hesitation, and then I nod because I’m wrecked too.
Hekisses me. Hard. Like he can’t not.
And I kiss him back — because how could I not?
The taste of him, tea and salt and years of wanting, floods me. His stubble scrapes my cheek, his hands cradle my face, touch my hair. He sighs into my mouth like he’s come home. My fists tighten in his shirt and a whimper slips out, making him press closer.
We grind together in breathless agony, and it would be so easy to let go. “Cole,” he keeps saying, almost like a prayer. Finally some stubborn part of me cuts through the haze.
I push him away. The last thing I want. The only thing I can. He steps back instantly, looking like he’s been hit. We stand there, gasping.
“I just don’t know if I can ever forgive you for not coming back sooner,” I whisper. The words taste like ash. He looks stricken. And I want to believe. But I can’t. Not yet.
Not in this version of him.
XADEN
Cole’s words land like a sucker punch: clean, precise, and exactly what I deserve. His voice is steady, but his hands tremble where they rest on his knees. He doesn’t look at me. He stares at the floor like if he meets my eyes, he’ll break.
I nod, though I want to beg. I want to tell him I can’t forgive myself either. But I just stand there, dazed, still feeling the echo of his lips on mine.
If that was our last kiss… I’ll carry it like a wound.
Because God, it was one hell of a kiss. Most people never get something like that, and I got it with Cole. And he felt it too. I saw it in the way his lips parted after, how his thumb brushed unconsciously across his mouth like he wanted to keep the taste. Hiseyes flickered with something almost desperate before he shut it down.
I swallow. My throat’s raw.
“What we had was the best thing I’ve ever had,” I manage. “You’re the only thing in my life that matters.”
For a moment, something flickers in his eyes again and hope, sharp and terrifying, pierces through me.
I make myself a promise. If I ever get to kiss him again, it won’t be like this. Not out of desperation. Not as an apology.
It’ll be because I’ve earned the right.
It’ll be when Cole knows the truth.
