And just like that, I was drowning all over again.
His words hung between us like smoke, curling into every crack of my resolve. I should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve run. But my body betrayed me, leaning into the gravity of him, the pull I’d never escaped.
Leo didn’t wait for permission. His hand slid from my chin to the nape of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, gripping just hard enough to make my pulse spike. Then his mouth crashed into mine—hard, desperate, like he’d been starving for this for years.
I gasped against his lips, and he took the opening, tongue sweeping in, tasting me with a hunger that stole my breath. Spice and heat and him. My hands fisted in his shirt, yanking him closer even as my mind screamed to stop. His other hand roamed, calloused palm sliding under my jacket, over my ribs, thumb brushing the curve of my breast through my thin tank. I arched into the touch, a traitor to my own warnings.
He groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, and backed me harder against the wall. Dust motes danced in the dim light as his hips pinned mine, the rigid length of him pressing against my thigh. My fingers dug into his shoulders, then lower, clawing down his back, pulling him impossibly closer. Tongues tangled, teeth nipped, breaths mingled in a messy, frantic rhythm that matched the thunder in my chest.
His hand slipped lower, gripping my hip, fingers splaying over the waistband of my jeans, teasing the skin just above. I moaned— I couldn’t help it—and he swallowed the sound, kissing me deeper, slower now, like he was savoring every second of my surrender.
But even as fire licked through my veins, the ache in my chest sharpened. This wasn’t healing. This was wreckage. Beautiful, brutal wreckage.
I broke the kiss first, turning my head, lungs burning. His forehead rested against mine, both of us panting, his hand stilltangled in my hair, the other frozen on my hip like he couldn’t bear to let go.
“We can’t,” I whispered, voice raw. “This doesn’t fix anything.”
His grip tightened for a heartbeat, then loosened. He didn’t step back. Just closed his eyes, jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack.
“I know,” he rasped. “But damn if I don’t still want to try.”
The space between us hummed with everything unsaid, hearts cracked wide open and bleeding. And still, neither of us moved.
My back hit the wooden wall. I could feel the hay scratching at my calves through my breeches, but the real ache was in my chest.
He looked at me like I still belonged to him.
Like none of it—the silence, the betrayal, the heartbreak—had ever happened.
“Why, Leo?”My voice was soft. Broken in the middle. “Why did you really end things? Don't give me some polished line. I need the truth.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just exhaled through his nose like dragging it out hurt more than he’d expected.
Then he said it.
“My mother.”
And that was it. The final arrow. Shot straight through my lungs.
I nodded, slow. Deflating like someone had cut the strings that kept me upright.
“Of course,” I said, swallowing hard. “They’ll never accept me.”
He reached for me again, but I stepped back.
His hands dropped.
“Kannon’s family will?” he asked, sharp like the accusation stung.
I shrugged, but it wasn’t casual. It was armor. The only kind I had left.
“His dad’s regular. He works in trades.” My voice went quiet. Honest. “Kannon’s a scholarship kid too… just like me.”
Leo’s jaw flexed. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Maybe himself.
“But no one bothered to look into it, did they?”I continued, meeting his eyes. “Because he’s a guy. A male athlete. He got a free pass. I got hell.”
I didn’t wait for his reply. I couldn’t.
