Page 102 of Rebel

“No, it’s not!” I blink through the rain. “It can’t be because I love you!”

Both of our chests are heaving, and we are wet through.

For a moment, I think he’ll turn away, but then he yanks me to his body, grips my wet cheeks, and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is angry, hard, brutal, and punishing, making my lip bleed.

I lean into him, desperate for more. I let him punish me, and I give it back.

I accept it all as his hands slide down and grab my ass, hauling me up. I wrap my legs around his waist. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, kissing him again. “So sorry.” I kiss him. “I love you.”

“Shut up,” he snarls, deepening the kiss.

The rain doesn’t stop, and I can taste it as I kiss him. My hands tangle in his hair, holding him so he can’t ever leave. Suddenly, he rips away and drops me to the ground, stepping back and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stares at me.

“Why, Beck? Jesus, why wouldn’t you let me go? Just let me be angry,” he asks. “Why couldn’t you stop me from falling in love with you?”

“Because I wanted you to,” I admit. “I wanted to be loved by you. I wanted to know what it felt like to be someone’s favorite person, to belong to someone and see your eyes light up when you looked at me. I wanted to be the person you saw.” I swallow hard. “I still do. Come home, Trav, and let us all talk. I can explain. I can beg if that’s what you want, just give me a chance. One chance.” I hold my hands up. “If you still want to hate me after, I understand. I’m just asking for one chance.”

“And if I say no?” he asks.

“Then I’ll let you go,” I answer. “It will break my heart, but I deserve it. I’ll respect it, but it won’t stop me from loving you, Trav. Nothing ever could. I’m human, I make mistakes, so please let me fix it.”

“Some things can’t be fixed.”

“I can try,” I tell him. “One chance.”

For a moment, I think he’ll turn me away and that I’ve lost him forever, just like I felt with Chase, but Trav is a better person than I am. He takes my hand and leads me to the street, lifting his hand for a taxi. “I’m still mad.”

“I know.” I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself now, noticing how cold I am. “You have every right to be. I’m still sorry.”

He nods, and we stand in silence in the pouring rain, waiting for a taxi.

“You love me?” he finally asks as we wait.

Swallowing, I search his gaze. “I do,” I reply. “I didn’t mean to, but I do.”

Nodding, he glances up as a taxi pulls over, and he opens the door. “Then let’s go home. One chance, Beck.”

I won’t waste it.

FORTY-SIX

I’m drenched to the bone, and I shiver in the taxi on the way home, but I don’t regret it—not with Trav holding my hand and tugging me into the shelter of his arms, even though they are soaked too. There are still shadows in his eyes that I know I put there, and there are things we need to talk about, but right now, I just let him hold me.

Once we get back to the house, I hurry inside, barely able to feel my fingers, and I quickly remove my jacket, letting it hit the floor with a loud thud. The sound summons the others, and Kolton peers into the entryway with a soft smile as Trav hurries in behind me, blowing into his hands.

Chase peeks out after him. Luckily, his eyes are a bit more clear, and I tilt my head. “A whole fuck ton of coffee, though I think I might still be a little drunk,” he says in response to my searching look.

I smile at them, shivering and unsure what to do or say. It’s never been awkward between us before, it always just felt comfortable, but right now, you could cut the tension with a knife. They came back, maybe even forgave me, but they haven’t forgotten, and I can’t forget the pain of losing them.

I stand here, dripping and shivering, until Kolton sighs. “You need to warm up. Get out of those clothes, and we’ll run you a bath.”

“No, it’s okay. We should talk,” I start, my voice hesitant.

“Beck, shut the fuck up for once,” Chase snaps, “and take off your wet fucking clothes. You came after us—you love us—I’m done talking.”

I swallow at his cold tone, but then his eyes soften. “You’ll get sick if we leave you to your own devices. You’ll let your own guilt swallow you whole just to punish yourself, so take off your clothes, let us warm you up—you too, Trav—and then we can talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” I murmur.

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