I swallow thickly, glancing around the bar. It’s not the best place to rehash the past, but it’s loud enough where no one will hear us, I’m sure. “I feel like we need to talk about that night.”
Gareth nods, knowing exactly which I mean.
“You left,” I say simply, starting at the end, because where else is there to start? We both know what happened in the beginning.
His jaw tightens. “You told me to.”
“You should have fought harder.”
The words taste bitter on my tongue. Is that fair? I told him to go. I locked myself in the bathroom and told him to be gone by the time I got out.
I was embarrassed—mortified. I’d just laid myself bare in every sense of the word, and he turned me down.
Rejection sears through me again, the sting just as assaulting now as it was then.
He drags his hand down his face. “Indy?—”
“I know,” I cut him off. “I’m not placing all the blame on you, but God, Gareth. The rejection I felt? I was avirgin. I was ready to give youeverythingthat night, and you chose my brother.”
“We both chose him,” he mutters under his breath, his head shaking. His eyes blaze with unspoken words, emotions swirling beneath the surface. “Jesus, Indy.”
My chest tightens. For a second, I wonder if maybe we shouldn’t be having this conversation—if we should let the past stay in the past—but he needs to hear it.
I need to say it—I’ve been holding onto this for so long.
“I loved you so much,” I whisper. “It broke something in me when you said you?—”
“Indy, I didn’t reject you,” he cuts me off, hurt flashing across his face. My shoulders sag, the pain I’ve worked so hard to shove away rising to the surface again. “I wanted you so bad that night. I wanted toslow down, not stop. I didn’t want you to think you were some quick fuck. I wanted to take my time. I wanted it to be special.”
He stares down at his glass, jaw ticking. It’s like he’s afraid to continue his thought, or is bracing himself for my reaction. Shaking his head again, his eyes meet mine. “I was a virgin too, Indy. I walked away that night because I thought I didn’t mean as much to you as you did to me. It seemed like you were only interested in scratching an itch we’d both been feeling for years, and that gutted me. I wanted to worship you—not just make you come, tuck myself back in, and sneak back down the hall to your brother’s room.”
Realization slams into my chest. “We both got that night so wrong.”
He’s off his barstool in an instant, his hand tangled in my hair faster than I can take my next breath. His thumb tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I’ve spent years going through every moment of that night, wishing I could go back in time and change it. I made so many mistakes after that—moments I’ll never get to redo. I’m sorry, Indy. I should have just talked to you then, but I was too much of a coward.”
I shake my head. “You weren’t a coward, Gareth. You were a kid.Wewere kids.”
“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Before I can respond, he seals his promise with a kiss.
We spend the rest of the night in a haze of drinks, wrapped in each other’s arms, and playing every version of pinball the bar has to offer. Our conversation is light, laughter softer, but no less meaningful.
If anything, everything meansmorenow that we’ve opened an old wound together and now have the opportunity to make sure it heals properly.
I think we’re off to a good start.
When we finally call it a night, the city feels calmer. The roar softened into a dull hum, lights dim, like New York’s taking a second to relax before morning.
“I have a confession,” Gareth says as we walk to the car hand in hand.
I look up at him, quietly waiting.
His lips twitch as he brings my hand up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles. “I didn’t book you a room. You’re staying with me.”
I laugh, breathless. His confession’s an assumption I’d made before I even stepped foot on the plane.
We stop beside the car, and Charles steps back, giving us a moment. Rising on my tiptoes, I press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “That’s good,” I murmur, letting my mouth drift to his lips. But I don’t kiss him—not yet. Instead, I smile as my hands slip behind his neck. “I sleep better with you next to me, anyway.”
