“And it didn’t matter that my entire world stopped when I first saw you,” I carelessly admitted, because I was apparently just confessing every messy part of my heart to Hudson Gray now. “It didn’t matter, because then you slipped right back into that charming way of talking, like you knew exactly what you were doing with your voice and those stupid dimples and that smirk. And I refused to let you think for even a moment that you could treat me the way they had.”
A laugh tumbled from me, but it sounded more like a sob. “And, eventually, another woman crossed your path, and another, all while you hit on me the way you hit on them, and that told me all I needed to know about you.”
“Mallory,” Gray softly seethed, “what did you say?”
My chest hitched as I fought to control the emotions now threatening to overwhelm me. Bracing my spine, I once again lifted my chin, ignoring the rain pelting my face and eyes. But my stance did nothing to cover the way my voice wavered and dipped when I spoke. “I said a lot, Gray. Be more specific.”
His pale eyes were dark with wrath as he erased the last of the distance between us and demanded, “Who?”
A huff bled from me, but before I could once again ask him to be more specific, he continued.
“Who touched you?” His voice lowered with lethal intent when he added, “Give me every name. I’ll take care of the rest.”
I instinctively bristled at the implication that I’d need someone to take care of me, all while wings took flight in my stomach and my heart raced this unforgiving beat.
By the time I responded, the firm tone I’d been going for was replaced with something that sounded dangerously close to Chloe and Lainey’s voices when they swooned over their significant others. “I can take care of myself,” I reminded him. “And I took care of them.”
“I’ve always known you could. That doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted to be the one fighting your battles.”
Those stupid, pointless, traitorous tears fell faster at the depth in his words.
“Tell me who.”
“What does it matter?” I asked over the emotion gripping my throat. “Most of it stopped when I retired. You’ve handled anything that’s happened since, because you’ve been there.”
“It matters because it’syou,” he said unwaveringly.
A strangled sob twisted from me as I rocked back a step. “You can’t say things like that and think it’ll just erase the last eleven years.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “Nothing either of us says or does will erase what we’ve done up until now.”
“I’m aware. But keeping everything in and pretending you wereonlymy best friend has led us to this, so I’m done pretending. As for erasing the last eleven years?” Gray’s water-slicked brow furrowed and a strained huff tumbled past his lips. “I would never erase those years because I got to know you in a way I’m not sure I would’ve otherwise. I got to fight with you. I got to fall in love with you every day, even when I thought I would onlyever be your friend.”
My body sagged under the weight of my next heaving breath. As if his confession had just stolen every need to show this man that I was fine—that I was strong—without him.
“From that first meeting, you’ve been different for me—you’ve beenit,” he went on, voice a rough whisper. “I should’ve treated you like you were.” His throat worked before his head moved in the faintest shake. “No excuses.”
A saddened laugh left me when I reminded him, “You just gave me every excuse?—”
“No excuses,” he repeated firmly. “You’ve always been everything; I never should’ve made you think you were anything less.”
Claiming the little space I’d placed between us, Gray lifted his hands to cradle my face. The movements purposeful yet careful, as if he was making sure I knew what he was about to do and giving me time to stop him.
Because he knew now. Not details, but he knew.
And even though Gray had touched me thousands of times before, he’d never touched me likethis. Soft and tender and adoring.
No one had. And it broke something in me, making the tears fall even harder as I reached up to grip his forearms.
“And so there’s no question,” he murmured as he lazily brushed his thumbs across my cheeks, “I would marry you, sober, every day, for the rest of my life.”
I pushed up on my toes and crushed my mouth to his before even registering what I was about to do. But the second my lips touched his, the tension that had swirled around us for over a decade snapped, and we fell into a kiss that felt inevitable.
Fierce and passionate.
Gentle and adoring.
Fueled by longing and pain and suppressed love set free.
We fought to get closer and for control of the kiss, both giving as much as the other demanded, until my body was buzzing. Until I was breathless and drunk off the way he held me and the way his mouth moved against mine. Strong and sure and like it’d never be enough.
