And I go. I couldn’t even stop myself if I wanted to.
I slide off the tailgate, rain soaking through my clothes and shoes as I walk toward her like a man possessed. Each step feels heavy, like I'm walking through quicksand, but I can't stop. I'd follow her into fucking Tartarus if she asked.
She's there in the middle of the clearing, rain pouring down her face, her body still swaying to the music that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The distance between us feels like miles even though it's only a few feet.
When I finally reach her, she tilts her head back to look up at me, rain clinging to those long lashes, making her eyes shine in the darkness. Her lips part, and my heart stops for a second.
"Will you dance with me, phantom?" she asks, her voice so sweet it physically hurts to hear it.
I don't respond. Can't. Words aren't enough for what I'm feeling right now. Instead, I grab her, pulling her into my arms where she fucking belongs. One arm wraps around her waist, the other takes her hand in mine, and I pull her against my chest.
We start to move together, our bodies finding a slow rhythm that has nothing to do with the pounding beat still playing from the truck. Her head rests against my chest, right over my heart. She has to feel how hard it's beating for her. Only for her.
The rain crashes down around us, soaking us to the bone, but I barely notice. All I can feel is Reese—her warmth, her softness, the way her body fits against mine like she was made for me.
Time loses all meaning as we dance. Could be minutes, could be hours. I don't know how many songs play or if it's just the same one on repeat. I don't care. I'd stay here forever if I could, holding her in my arms while the storm rages around us.
She feels so small in my arms, so fucking delicate. Her hand in mine, her body pressed against me—it's everything I've ever wanted. Everything I've denied myself for years.
The rain starts to ease, turning from a downpour to a drizzle, then to nothing at all. We keep dancing anyway, moving to music that's become background noise.
I pull back just enough to see her face, raindrops clinging to her lashes, and for once in my life, I don't overthink it. I tilt her chin up with my finger and lower my mouth to hers—gentle at first, a whisper against her lips, then deeper, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst.
When the last drops fall and the clouds start to clear, revealing stars scattered across the night sky, Reese finally pulls back enough to look up at me. Her face is flushed, her eyes bright with something I'm afraid to name.
She throws her head back and laughs—this loud, joyous sound that echoes through the clearing. It's the most beautiful fucking thing I've ever heard.
"God, that was fucking everything and more," she says, her voice breathless with wonder.
I don’t think I’m going to make it through this list without fucking snapping if dancing in the rain has me breaking my vow already.
Chapter 19
Reese
"Your lover boy sure was eager to get the twins out of the house," Reagan says, stretching her legs across the couch where she's been planted for the last hour. Her hand rests on the small baby bump that's just starting to show beneath her oversized t-shirt.
I almost choke on my wine. "He's not my lover boy."
"Bullshit." My sister's eyes narrow on me with that patented big-sister glare that makes me feel like I'm twelve again. "I've got pregnancy brain, not fucking blindness."
I avoid her gaze, suddenly fascinated by the liquid swirling in my cup. We've got the house to ourselves for the first time in forever. Penn and Ramsey took the twins to the park, claiming the three-year-olds needed "manly time," but we all know it was to give Reagan a break. At six months pregnant with baby number three, she's been exhausted.
"Whatever," I mutter, taking another sip. "We're just?—"
"If you say 'just friends' I swear to god, I will throwthis pillow at your head, and I don't miss." Reagan shifts, wincing slightly as she adjusts her position. "Look, we need to talk."
The serious tone in her voice makes me sit up straighter. "About what?"
Reagan sighs, running a hand through her dark hair. There are new strands of gray at her temples that weren't there a year ago. Motherhood and being married to Penn will do that to you.
"About Ramsey," she says finally, "About what you're getting yourself into."
My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"
"Reese, I've seen how he looks at you. How he's always looked at you." Reagan's voice is gentle but firm. "And I've seen how you look at him lately. Whatever's happening between you two...it's not just friendship anymore, is it?"
Heat rushes to my face. I consider lying, but what's the point? Reagan has always seen right through my bullshit.
