Instead of our bizarre connection fading into the background—the way I assumed it would—my attraction to her only intensified. It grew roots, holding me not in place, but to her.
At least, that’s how it felt back then.
So many times, I almost left. I never could pull the trigger. I was ensnared in her trap. Worst of all, I had no desire to claw my way free. In my dumbass, hormone-filled, twenty-something brain, I’d been convinced Lila was the missing piece of me.
I was such a fucking fool.
What once seemed like roots grounding me to her eventually felt like chains. And I’d locked myself in them in my pathetic attempt to fill that damn crater in my chest. The one that split me wide open when I was only four.
For a long time, I believed such a thing was possible—that I could be whole. Lila made me believe it. Not with her words, but with our every interaction and howrightit felt. Every lingering look. Every flirty encounter. Every shared joke or almost kiss. Every fucking minute I was in her orbit.
Everything about her convinced me love could heal. And maybe I could belong and be accepted for who I was.
Who I still am—a broken man.
Kenzie continued to do everything in her power to keep us apart. Five years ago, she lost that battle. Two days later, I lost Lila.
Not long after, I finally got accepted at the bureau. My career became even more important to me. With Dad gone and buried, I didn’t have a good reason to see Mom or Kenzie, and so we gradually lost touch. Although I tried to convince myself thatLila was dead to me, she was always there in the back of my mind.
I don’t like not knowing much about the last several years of her life. Did she ever go to college? How did she end up working at a casino? Did she ever find love?
And is she happy?
If there’s a silver lining to Andrews’ harebrained plan, perhaps I can sate my curiosity.
Starting tonight.
“We’ll take my car,” Kenzie offers, spinning her keys around her index finger. “Reed, you should probably drive yourself in case you need to leave for work or something. I’d imagine you're often called away. Big important FBI agent that you are.”
Incredibly suspicious, considering the source. Nobody has ever accused my sister of giving two shits about the needs of others.
She’s right, though.
“Sounds good.”
Lila scans the parking lot. “Where’s your car?” A common question for her, I’m noticing.
My vision catches on her ample cleavage, but I force myself to look at her eyes. “I drove my motorcycle.”
Her jaw sags, and her voice quivers. “You have a motorcycle?”
I’d planned to convince her to go for a ride with me if she’d agreed to the date. The mere idea of her wrapped around me is incredibly enticing for obvious reasons. And I figured she’d enjoy the ride. Win-win.
“Yep.” I stride toward my bike, glancing over my shoulder at her. “Want to ride with me? I have an extra helmet.”
“Oh, heck no. I couldnever. Those things are death traps.”
Turns out, it wasnota win-win.
“Nah. I’m a very safe driver. You can trust me.”
Keep your mouth shut, Morgan Freeman. Don’t you dare contradict me.
Mental silence.
Nice. Turns out the fictional narrator in my mind can be controlled if I concentrate hard enough. Or maybe that slight break with reality is over. I hope so.
Lila shakes her head violently, backing toward Kenzie’s car. “Nope. No way.”
