“Excuse me,” I say, and thankfully no one stops me. Not Brayden or my father. No one.
I leave the estate trembling so hard I can barely breathe.
The cold night air hits my skin as tears finally spill down my cheeks. I don’t call for a driver. I just walk.
Past the glowing mansion. Past the perfectly trimmed hedges. Past the life everyone keeps trying to force down my throat.
The further I get from the estate, the harder I cry.
Then I hear it.
A motorcycle engine rumbling somewhere behind me in the distance.
Deep and familiar.
My heart stutters in my chest as I slowly turn my head.
Headlights glow at the far end of the street.
Watching me through the gates as I walk.
My throat tightens the longer I stare, but the rider never moves closer. Just sits there idling in the darkness.
Waiting.
I can’t make out the face beneath the helmet. He’s too far away, but every nerve ending in my body screams the same thing.
Hayden.
Fear and hope collide inside me.
Then the bike slowly turns and disappears into the night. Leaving me standing here, shaking.
By the time I get home, I’m emotionally wrecked, and somehow… I already know.
The moment I step into my bedroom, my eyes land on another note waiting on my bed. This time my hands shake so badly I almost can’t open it.
You cried for me once, Firefly. Would you cry for me again?
A broken sound leaves my throat, but I crawl into bed, clutching the note against my chest like I’ve done the last two times.
Eventually, exhaustion drags me under and, once again, I dream of him.
We’re fifteen laying in the bed of some beat up truck he stole near the river. Music plays softly from the radio while the warm summer air wraps around us. I curl against his chest, wearing his hoodie, while he traces shapes against my bare thigh.
“You know what I think?” he murmurs sleepily.
“What?”
“I think if we ever have a daughter or even a son, they’ll have your attitude and my bad decisions,” he says, and I laugh.
“That sounds terrifying,” I say, but he cups my face.
“They’ll be perfect. Just like you,” he whispers, then presses his lips against mine. He pulls away as the stars reflect in his green eyes when he looks down at me. God those eyes. I will drown in them willingly. “I love you, Firefly,” he whispers. “Even when we’re old and ugly.”
“You’ll always be ugly.” I smirk, and he gasps dramatically.
“That’s rude as hell.”
