Shane only nodded.
“At the time, I was so angry at you, at your whole family. It took me a while, but I realized what he must have done to you. Or maybe I talked myself into believing that what we’d had was real.”
“It was.”
“Was.” She pulled her foot out of his grip and stood abruptly. "You should probably go. It's late, Kevin's got homework in the morning."
“April, wait.”
Pete appeared from Kevin's doorway, stretching elaborately before padding toward them.
“See? Even Pete’s ready to go. Let me walk you out.”
“April, wait?—"
"Thank you for dinner," she said, hand on the doorknob. "For spending time with Kevin.”
She he was already opening the door, Pete slipping through ahead of her. The cool night air hit Shane's face and he sucked in a breath. He may not deserve her, but he couldn't just leave like this, couldn't run away like a coward even though every instinct was screaming at him to bolt.
April grabbed a cardigan from the hook by the door and followed him onto the porch. The boards creaked under their feet. Pete wandered down to the grass, sniffing around with professional interest.
Shane’s hand closed around April’s wrist. She was backlit by the porch light, her face half in shadow, hair moving slightly in the breeze. Beautiful. God, she was so beautiful it hurt to look at her.
"Don’t run away," he said.
She looked surprised. "Running from what? I'm not running."
"Yes, you are. You've been doing it since we were eighteen. Since that bus station." His fingers tightened on her wrist. "I tried to find you. You were always—April, you were always?—"
"Thank you." Her voice came out fierce and tender at once. "Thank you for the loan payments. Thank you for standing up to your parents. Thank you for being patient with Kevin, for seeing him the way he deserves to be seen. Thank you for?—"
Something in Shane's chest cracked wide open.
April didn't finish the sentence. Couldn't, because Shane had stepped closer. His free hand cupped the back of her neck and every good intention he'd ever had of leaving her alone went up in smoke.
Shane bent his head and kissed her.
The world narrowed to the soft sound she made against his mouth, the way her fingers tightened in his hair, the taste of coffee and something sweeter. Empty years dissolved like smoke. He was seventeen again, stealing kisses in his truck on dark back roads, terrified and exhilarated and so in love he could barely breathe.
Except this was better. Because they weren't kids anymore. Because she was kissing him back like she'd been waiting for this just as long as he had. Because her body fit against his like coming home.
Shane cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. April made a small, desperate sound that went straight to his gut. His thumbs stroked her cheekbones, learningthe architecture of her face all over again. She'd changed—of course she had—but the essential April-ness of her was the same. The way she kissed like she meant it, like she was all in.
He'd forgotten how good this felt. No—he hadn't forgotten. He'd just convinced himself over the years that memory was exaggerating, that nothing could actually feel this right.
He was wrong.
April's hands slid under his jacket, fingers splaying across his back through his shirt. Shane groaned and kissed her harder, backing her up until she bumped against the porch post. She laughed against his mouth—breathless and joyful—and that sound did something to him. Made him want to protect it, bottle it up, make sure she never stopped making sounds like that.
"Shane," she breathed, and his name in her voice sounded like a prayer.
He kissed down her jaw to that spot just below her ear that used to drive her crazy. Still did, apparently, judging by the way she gasped and arched into him.
"Waited so long," he murmured against her skin. "So damn long?—"
"Mom?"
They sprang apart like they'd been electrocuted.
