“Yes, I do.” And that was it. The thread snapped.
I stopped thinking. Stopped trying to measure the right distance, the right timing, the right version of her that I was allowed to want. I just reached—because after four years of pretending not to, pretending control was the same as calm, I couldn’t anymore.
My lips were on hers before I even fully processed what I was going to do. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t patient. It was a collision—four years of trying to be good exploding in one impossible heartbeat.
She reacted—sharp inhale, a sound that might’ve been my name. Then her hands were on my chest, not pushing exactly, just trembling like she was trying to catch her balance.
“Archie—”
“I know,” I said against her mouth, or maybe I didn’t say it at all; maybe I just breathed it.
She shook her head, pulling back an inch, lips parted, pupils blown wide. “We can’t.”
I was already ruined for logic. “You can’t say that like it means something.”
“It does,” she said, voice breaking on the word. “It has to.”
So, I kissed her again. Harder this time, like a dare, like maybe I could prove something by the way my hands trembled in her hair. She made a small, desperate sound—half protest,half surrender—and the next second her fingers were in my collar, tugging me closer.
My hand found the back of her neck, thumb brushing the soft skin there, and I deepened the kiss. Every thought I’d buried for four years came unspooled at once. The what-ifs, the timing, the stupid moral lines we’d drawn just to survive. I felt all of it burn away under her mouth.
She tried to speak again—“Archie, please, we shouldn’t?—”
“Then stop me.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she sank into the kiss completely—like someone who’d been holding her breath for too long and finally remembered how to inhale. The world went quiet around us. Just the sound of her pulse under my palm, the faint catch of her breath, the too-sweet taste of her mouth with its hints of coffee, chocolate, andFrankie.
I didn’t know if I was shaking from restraint or relief. Maybe both.
When she finally broke the kiss, she didn’t move far. Her forehead rested against mine, breath warm, uneven. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know.” My voice was raw, honest. “I’d do it again.”
Her laugh came out small and broken, but it was still a laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been trying to be,” I said. “Because if I wasn’t—” I stopped, swallowing. “If I wasn’t, I’d have done that a long time ago.”
Her eyes found mine then, and for the first time, she didn’t look away. Not even when I whispered, “You can’t say for sure though. Neither of us can.”
She exhaled, the tiniest shake of her head, and then leaned forward until her lips brushed mine again—just once, soft andcertain this time. Like a truce. Or maybe a promise neither of us knew how to keep yet.
And maybe that was enough for now.
Because even with all the chaos waiting for us outside the car, with everything that could fall apart, the only thing that felt real in that moment was her—warm, trembling, and absolutely, terrifyingly real in my arms.
Frankie rested her forehead against mine, eyes wide, teetering between panic and disbelief. “What… what do we do?” Her voice was small, almost lost beneath the racing of both our hearts.
I stroked my thumb along her pulse point, wanting to savor holding her. Having her right here with me. Being able to kiss her. At the same time, I was so fucking angry. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got this.”
Her hands gripped my shirt like she was trying to hold on, but the tremor in her fingers betrayed the storm inside her. “Your dad… he seemed—happy about it.” Her voice cracked, soft and haunted. “And… Archie, there’s so much regret. So much hurt for him… for me, for all of it…”
I leaned back slightly, letting her see my face. I tried to keep the corners of my mouth light, almost teasing, but there was steel beneath it, a slow burn that had nothing to do with the kiss. “I’d be happy to call you mine too,” I said, shrugging as if it were nothing, even though every inch of me wanted to grab the world and shake it.
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to argue, but then she just swallowed and let the words hang unsaid.
I let my hand cup her jaw, thumb brushing her lower lip. “We’ll figure this out, babe. I promise.”
