The first brush of his lips against mine is hesitant. When I don’t pull away, he kisses me properly, and fuck, it’s like coming home. He tastes the same—like peppermint and something else that I can only describe as undeniably Karan—and his beard scratches my skin in a way that sends shivers down my spine.
My body responds without conscious thought, pressing closer, hands sliding into his hair. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against him, and I gasp softly at the familiar heat of his body against mine.
Hot need rushes through my body. And, for a moment, I let myself forget.
It’s a painfully short moment.
The memories crash back like a wave and take my breath away. Not in a good way. I wrench out of his grasp, breathing hard.
“I can’t.” My voice shakes. “I can’t do this.”
“Rachel, please—” He reaches for me again, but I’m already scrambling out of bed.
“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intended. “I just…”
I let my voice drift away just like he’s been drifting away from me. From his sons.
In the silvery moonlight streaming through the window, I watch his face crumple. The hurt in his eyes makes me want to take it all back, to crawl back into his arms and pretend everything’s fine.
Instead, I grab my robe and flee the room.
Chapter 17
Karan
Ican’t move from the bed.
The phantom warmth of Rachel’s body lingers on the sheets, her scent lingering on the pillow beside me. The kiss replays in my mind. I miss the softness of her lips, the way she melted against me for that brief, perfect moment before everything shattered.
Her footsteps echo on the wooden stairs, each one driving the knife deeper into my chest. The finality in her voice when she said “I can’t” feels like a door closing.
And I have no fucking idea how I’m going to open that door again.
I have to.
When I can finally make myself move, I follow her path to the top of the stairs. Through the railing, I can see her curled into herself on the worn couch by the fire. The flames of the openfire stove cast shifting shadows across her face, highlighting the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands twist nervously in her lap.
Years ago, I would have knownexactlywhat to do. I would have gone to her, wrapped her in my arms, whispered the right words to make everything okay. Because I still had her trust.
Now, I stand frozen, watching the woman I love suffer alone.
And I’m completely helpless to fix it.
A soft sound from the boys’ room draws me away. Their door creaks slightly as I push it open, letting the soft hallway light spill across their sleeping forms. Cayce has kicked off his side of the blanket again. He’s always been a restless sleeper, like his mother. Corey’s arm dangles off his side of the bed, his favorite stuffed dragon clutched loosely in his other arm.
I move carefully into the room to adjust blankets and tuck limbs back onto the mattress. Their peaceful breathing fills the space. In the dim light, I can see Rachel in their features. I see her in their slightly upturned nose, the arch of their lips.
The sight makes my chest ache.
Instead of returning to the empty bedroom, I find myself carefully crawling to the center of their shared bed. They shift instinctively, making room for me the way they always have. Corey immediately curls into my side, while Cayce throws an arm across my chest in his sleep.
The trust in their unconscious movements breaks something inside me. How many moments like this have I sacrificed for a job that’s stripping away at my soul?
The wind whistles outside, echoing in the silence of the cabin. I wonder if Rachel is thinking about our kiss and replaying it over and over like I am.
Corey stirs against my side, mumbling something incomprehensible. I run my fingers through his hair and try to remember the last time I was awake and aware enough todo this. To simply lie here and watch them sleep, to be not only physically but mentally present for these small, precious moments.
I can’t remember. It’s like the last several months are a complete haze in my brain.
