“When?”Her gaze narrowed.“When did you really make these, Lynx?”
I shrugged one shoulder.“Hell, I don’t remember.”
That was a lie.I remembered it like it was yesterday because I'd made the first one right after she’d broken up with that asshole Billy Watson the very first time.She’d been barely eighteen years old, just graduated from high school, and I had been over the fucking moon.Because of her age, I'd been forced to take a step back from her when I'd first kissed her, and the next thing I knew, Reagan had started dating Billy not long before she graduated.The second I'd found out, I had been pissed, confused.I remembered praying, something I hadn’t done in a long damn time.Praying that God would strike Billy Watson down where he stood.No one had ever accused me of being reasonable.
So, that first time they broke up, I'd automatically assumed it was over.Never in my life would I have imagined that relationship would’ve dragged out for so damn long.Eight fucking years I'd waited for this moment.
“You don’t remember?”She clearly didn’t believe me.
“Nope.Sorry.”
I damn near backed up, but somehow, I managed to hold my ground when Reagan got up from the chair.Hell, my feet were yelling for me to run, but I stood there, watching her, bracing myself.
“Do you remember that night?”she asked.
“What night?”Oh, I knew, all right.But I figured it was far safer to play dumb right now.
“The night I sat on your dad’s front porch with you.In those rockin’ chairs.”
I didn’t respond.
“I’m pretty sure I went a little overboard talkin’ about ’em.”She glanced over her shoulder at the two rocking chairs behind her before turning back to me.Her smile was wistful, as though she was remembering.“And you just happened to make these?For me?”
“Yep.”
“But you never gave ’em to me.”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged again.
She took another step closer and I found myself staring down at her.
“Tell me when you made them,” she urged, her voice softer, far too seductive for my fragile grasp on my self-control.
“A while back,” I offered.
“How long’s a while?”
I shrugged.
She stepped closer.
This time I did take a step back.
She took another step closer.
“Reagan…”
“Tell me, Lynx.”
“Eight years,” I admitted, my voice rough.
Something softened in her eyes and I knew without a doubt, for the first time in my life, I was about to go back on a promise.
Reagan
