Page 62 of Reckless

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, and it is enough to surprise both of us.

She notices.

Of course, she notices.

Her smile softens around the edges, losing some of the teasing and becoming something quieter that settles between us with surprising ease.

I point toward the open door. “I could leave, you know?”

“You could.”

But neither of us moves.

The silence doesn’t feel awkward anymore.

She watches me for another couple of seconds before shaking her head to herself. “I really am never letting you forget that, am I?”

“No, I don’t think you will.”

She weakly smiles, her eyes kind. “Goodnight, Ethan.”

Fuck! I haven’t been Ethan for a very long time, and I’m not entirely sure how she found out my real name—probably from Deek.

But somewhere along the way, Ghost became easier and the name people expected. The one that came with the cut, the monitors, and the version of me that never let anyone close enough to need the other one.

Then Sage says my name, “Ethan,” like it’s never belonged to anybody else.

Something shifts, small and dangerous. I have the strange feeling that if she keeps saying my name like that, Ghost might not be the one who answers forever.

“Goodnight, Sage.” My voice comes out rougher than I intended.

She looks back at me with those beautiful doe eyes, and this time I don’t give myself the chance to think. I cross the last few inches between us before my brain can invent another reason to stop, my hand settling carefully against her waist as though it’s been searching for that exact place all night.

Sage doesn’t move toward me because she doesn’t have to. She watches me coming, a smile already beginning to soften the corners of her mouth, and something about the trust in that look steals whatever words I might have had.

I press my lips to hers.

This kiss is nothing like the one on the sofa.

Nothing frantic or desperate, just… us.

She sighs so quietly I almost miss it, the sound disappearing between us as her hand drifts up to rest against my chest. I feel the warmth of her palm through my shirt, the slow rise and fall of her breathing matching mine.

My thumb brushes absent circles against her side, more because I need to know she’s real than because I’m thinking about what I’m doing.

Every soft breath.

Every tiny smile I feel against my mouth.

Every heartbeat that’s suddenly a little too loud in my ears.

And for the first time since she stumbled into my life, nothing feels uncertain.

There’s no investigation.

No shell companies.

No waiting for the right moment.