Page 29 of Rewrite Our Story

Cade fixes a backpack on his back. What does he need that for?

“To celebrate your birthday.”

“You already had that chance.”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. A small worry line forms on his forehead. “I’m asking for another.”

I let out a resigned sigh. “I’m tired of this, Cade.”

“Tired of what?”

I start walking even farther from the group of tents. When I’d envisioned talking to Cade tonight, I thought it’d be me convincing him to finally give in and kiss me. Instead, I’m now convincing him to just leave me alone and stop pretending like he wants me if he doesn’t.

Once I feel like we’re far enough away from everyone, I spin to speak with him. “I’m tired of this back and forth with us. I’m tired of guessing how you feel. Really, I’m just tired ofyou.”

Cade’s lip twitches, which only annoys me further. “I’m done,” I say exhausted, already turning my body toward the tent.

I’m going to go to bed and wake up tomorrow and pretend that my heart never wanted him so desperately. He clearly doesn’t deserve it.

A strong hand grabs me by the wrist. “Goldie, wait.” Cade pulls, spinning me so I’m looking at him once again.

Why does he have to look so good under the moonlight?

I feel like so many of our encounters, some of my favorite moments with him, all take place in the dark. It’s like the moon is the only thing to know anything about us. It’s a sad thought. Maybe I want him to acknowledge me in the sun, too.

“I’m tired of that nickname, too,” I point out. If he ever stopped calling me that, I think my heart would break, but he doesn’t have to know that.

Cade’s thumb brushes the inside of my wrist. He keeps it there, looking down at where our skin touches. I look down, too. At the spot where my pulse gets stronger and stronger with the connection of our skin.

“I’m tired, too,” he confesses. He looks up at me, and I forget every shitty thing he’s done when I see the vulnerability in his eyes.

“What do you have to be tired about?” I’ve given him every clear signal in the world. He doesn’t get to be tired.

“I’m tired of fighting myself over how much I think about you. I’m tired of telling myself that I shouldn’t look at my little sister’s best friend the way I look at you. I’m really just tired of pretending that my entire head isn’t full of you and only you.”

I’m too stunned to say anything. I hadn’t expected him to be so honest—to be so vulnerable.

“I’m tired of pretending that my day doesn’t begin and end with thoughts of you,” he admits, his chest heaving up and down.

His fingers caress against mine as he watches me closely.

“Cade.” My voice shakes as I try to figure out if I’m hearing him correctly.

He reaches out and grabs me by the waist, pulling me against his warm body. “I know I haven’t acted like it. Truthfully, I’ve tried fighting it for as long as I can. There are so many reasons I shouldn’t be saying this, beginning with Pippa and ending with the fact you’re leaving in a few months, but I don’t care anymore.”

His hands move from my waist to cup my face. His callouses scratch my cheeks. It’s the best feeling in the world. “Forgive me for not being able to fight it any longer.”

I want to make a career out of putting words to paper. I’ve always been one to find the right words, but right now—I can’t think of anything to say back to him. So I do what I’ve been dreaming about for years.

Standing on my tiptoes, I press my lips against his.

As soon as our lips collide, it feels like everything in the world has fallen into place. Kissing him is familiar but exhilarating. It’s like seeing your home through a whole new lens.

I may be the one to start the kiss, but Cade takes control immediately. His fingers weave through my hair as he tilts my head, giving his tongue access to slip between my lips. He tastes like the peppermints he’s always stealing from the stable.

I’ve waited so long to kiss him like this that it almost feels like it really isn’t happening. It feels too perfect—too right—for this to be real life.

We both gasp for air as we refuse to even pause long enough to breathe. Peppermint has never tasted so good as his tongue caresses mine. I don’t even like peppermint, but I can see myself becoming a fan.

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