“It’s working though, right?” The question comes out more desperate than I intend, loaded with all the guilt I’ve been carrying.
“Yeah.” She shifts her weight, the movement subtle but telling. “I have to take off work sometimes. It’s not ideal, but I set the practice up so that it can function without me for a day or two every once in a while.”
“That’s good.”
The crowd erupts. Beer sloshes from raised glasses as people jump to their feet, screaming at the TVs. Someone behind us bellows “GOOOOAAAL!” directly into my ear.
“What?” Devin moves closer, her breath warm against my neck as she tries to hear better.
“It’s loud in here!” My voice cracks on the shout.
She nods, and I catch fragments of her response between the chaos. “Big... guess...”
I glance back at our abandoned table. Jeff is standing on his chair for a better view of the screen. Sophie has her phone out, probably checking the play-by-play. Niall is arguing with someone at the next table about a referee call. The last thing I want is to wade back into that.
“Do you want to... outside... talk?” Devin’s lips are close to my ear now, close enough that I feel rather than hear the words.
Thank God. I nod, probably too eagerly, and we thread our way through the maze of bodies. Someone’s elbow catches me inthe ribs. A woman steps backward directly into our path, nearly dumping her wine on Devin’s coat. We dodge and weave like we’re running plays on the ice until finally, blessedly, we reach the side exit.
The same one I escaped through that first night.
The cold hits immediately, sharp and clean after the stifling warmth inside. Our breath forms small clouds in the air, but neither of us suggests going back inside. The alley hasn’t changed—same strung lights creating pools of golden warmth against the brick walls, same bench bolted to the ground, same sense of being separate from the rest of the world. But tonight, with Devin beside me, it feels like stepping into a different universe entirely.
“This is better.” She turns to face me, and the soft lighting transforms her into something otherworldly, ethereal.
My tongue feels thick, useless. Every word I might say seems inadequate. I manage a nod, hoping I don’t look as completely overwhelmed as I feel.
Then she’s moving toward me, rising up on her toes, and her lips find mine.
The contact sends electricity shooting through every nerve ending. For a heartbeat, I’m frozen, my brain struggling to process that this is real, that Devin is kissing me, that after all these years we’re here in this alley and she wants?—
My arms wrap around her waist, pulling her against me, and thought dissolves into pure sensation. She tastes like memory and possibility all at once. Her lips are soft but insistent, and when she parts them slightly, inviting me deeper, I’m lost.
We move together with an ease that shouldn’t exist after so much time apart. My hands remember the curve of her waist, the way she fits against me like she was designed for this exact space. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and the slight tug sends heat racing through my veins.
The kiss intensifies, transforms from reunion to something hungrier. I spin her, pressing her back against the brick wall, and she makes a small sound that nearly undoes me. Our tongues meet, dance, explore with increasing desperation. Years of wondering, of remembering, of regretting pour into this moment.
My hand finds her thigh, the fabric of her dress smooth under my palm. She tilts her hips forward, an invitation I’m powerless to refuse. My fingers slide along her stockings, the silky material a delicious contrast to the heat of her skin underneath. She gasps against my mouth, the sound spurring me on as my hand travels higher, seeking, reaching?—
She tears her mouth from mine, both hands flat against my chest, pushing.
“What?” My hands fly up instantly, palms out in surrender. Did the rough brick hurt her back? Did I grip too hard? Is she dizzy—the POTS thing she mentioned?
She presses her fingertips to her lips. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, but her eyes—wide and dark in the golden light—tell me this isn’t about anything physical.
“This is too fast.”
The words land like a bucket of ice water. My hands drop to my sides, shame flooding through me with nauseating intensity. What was I thinking? That we could just pick up where we left off? That I had any right to touch her like that after everything?
“I’m sorry.” The words tumble out, desperate to fix this before it completely falls apart. “You’re right. That was too fast. Let’s slow it down.”
But she’s already shaking her head, gaze fixed somewhere past my shoulder. “I don’t—I don’t know what I’m doing here. What we’re doing.”
Panic claws at my throat. “I’m attracted to you, Devin. I want to see where things can go. I’ve missed you.”
The words hang in the cold air between us, but she’s notlistening. She’s already backing away, her heels clicking against the pavement in rapid staccato. By the time I process what’s happening, she’s halfway down the alley.
“Devin!” The shout tears from my throat, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow. Her figure disappears around the corner, swallowed by the night. “Shit.”
