Page 69 of Adrift

Now that I’ve finally given Felix a chance to get a word in edgewise, he doesn’t say anything.

But someone else does.

“The feeling’s mutual, Kieran Walsh.”

I whirl on my heel, swearing under my breath as I spill quite a bit of my remaining coffee.

Gage is standing in the middle of the path, wearing dusty faded blue jeans and an old plaid shirt. He has his hands in his jeans pockets as he watches me.

I know his face so well that I can instantly see past the downturn to his lips and the furrow in his brows. There are a hundred conflicting emotions racing across his face—mostly in his eyes, which express so much more than he knows.

“I think I hear Carter,” Felix says hastily. Then he kisses my cheek and scurries off down the path, leaving us alone again.

I study Gage’s face, and my brows pull together in a frown.

He doesn’t look like he’s had a great night either, if I’m honest.

Gage jerks his head, silently inviting me further along the path.

I take a deep breath to fortify myself, and then I fall into step behind him, heading down to the end of the path.

We’re here. This is the little clearing where we shared so much—our first date, our passions and our dreams… everything besides my unspoken truth.

And it’s here that I truly decided to let it become a secret.

I don’t think Felix set me up. He looked too surprised about it.

Gage must have already been here, thinking about me. But thinking what? I’m dying to find out—and, at the same time, terrified.

“Gage?” I whisper as I come to a halt facing him, curling my hands by my chest.

I can’t pour all my uncertainty and questions into that word. But I can use it to ask him the most important thing of all.

Do we still have a chance? Will you forgive me?

And Gage smiles, in one of those small, genuine expressions that means the world to me. He doesn’t need to say a word. He just reaches out with both hands, offering them to me.

And I fling myself at him, looping my arms around Gage’s neck to hold on tighter to him than I think I’ve ever clung to anything in my whole damn life.

“Gage,” I breathe out, my voice choked up.

“I’m here,” he whispers, an echo of the only thing I can think right now.

He’s here. He’s still here. He’s staying.

And I’d do anything to stay, too.

Gage is holding me, his arms tight and warm and strong, his lips against my hair, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the back of my neck as I desperately burrow into him.

I swallow hard a few times, shaking my head.

“I missed you.”

Even for this one night, I felt so empty without his woodsy, musky scent in my nostrils, the warmth of his body next to me in bed, the sound of his breathing falling into a deep, even rhythm.

I didn’t realize how much I need to fall into his rhythm—quiet and steady and perfectly safe.

“Me too,” Gage whispers. He leans down, lets the top of his chin rest against my head, sways gently with me. “It’s quiet without you.”

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