Page 64 of When We Meet Again

Patrick pops in my head. How he’s alive and not sucked into a salty abyss, but instead he’s in the next town over. And although guilt should be riding heavy on my shoulders for being wrapped up in his brother’s arms, it’s not. Not at all. Since Roman has waltzed back into my life, he’s stolen the show. My life was made up of stolen moments with this dark-haired, olive-skinned man, and I was blind to it all.

My mom always told me real love was easy. Perhaps that’s why things with Patrick felt right. It was easy, so I thought it was love. But it was far from it.

Roman stirs next to me, pulling me tighter against his chest. I love waking up next to him. Or I guess in this case, partially under him. I feel safe, and dare I say, loved. Like the real kind of love. The thought of this morning ending breaks my heart a little. I know once we leave this room, it’s over.For now.He knows it, too.

I need time for myself. I need to figure out who I want myself to be, what I want to do withmylife. I went from somebody’s puppet to a shell of a lost human—mainly because I lost my identity—to someone else’s woman. I never stopped to figure out what the hell I want for myself—my life. Thismustbe over, even if it’s just for now.

How can something be over if it hasn’t even begun?

I refuse to move, so instead I allow my brain to drift into a beautiful place. Somewhere magical I’ve been before thatshouldhave changed my life forever. If only I’d let it.

“Patrick!Just once, please? It’s just right up there,” I beg as I point and stare up at a wooden swing on top of the tall grassy hill.

He pulls my hand back and shakes his head. “I don’t want to climb a hill just to sit and need to walk down again. I have training early in the morning.” Disappointment courses through me as I swallow back tears.

“I’ll go with you, Kensi!” Roman beams, as he stands next to the girl he brought on our double date to the fair. Having such an intimate moment with my boyfriend’s brother seems a little off, but the sun is starting to set, and I really want to watch it from the swing. There is something so magical about the idea of seeing something like that with someone you love. The legend says miracles are created up there. I could use a miracle, for fuck’s sake.

Patrick lets go of my hand and nods, silently giving me the go-ahead to go with his brother.

I look at Roman’s date, who’s biting into a caramel apple that’s almost as big as her face, as if Roman doesn’t exist. Roman hands her his craft beer.

“I’ll race you, Rome.” We challenge each other. That’s our thing. He keeps me young, or maybe I just never grew out of it. His gray eyes watch me playfully as he chews the inside of his cheek. I don’t know exactly what he’s thinking, but I do know one thing…when he looks at me like this, there are no shadows across my heart.

He steps up next to me and looks in my direction. “Do you really think you can beat me, Kensi?”

“I never lost against you, Rome. I don’t plan on it now,” I joke with a roll of my eyes.

“No, but I do.” He bolts, except before he does, he grabs my hand and pulls me up the steep hill with him, not stopping until we reach the top.

My hand is still in his death grip as he looks out over the horizon. I look down between us at our adjoined fingers, wondering if this is crossing some type of boundary. Of course it is, but I can’t bring myself to let go first. The feeling I get zinging through my veins when he touches me goes unmatched. Like there is a magnetism when we come in physical contact with each other. The pull I have toward him. Like every time we spend more time together, there is string being woven around us. Almost impossible to pull away from. And I’m not going to. What if up here, just for now, it’s okay.

The band down below starts playing a cover of Dave Matthews Band’s“Say Goodbye.”“How fitting,”I think to myself. A song about being lovers tonight, and tomorrow, going back to being friends. I look up into the sky above me and laugh at the irony.

Roman must finally realize our fingers are still tangled together because seconds later he abruptly lets go of my hand and shoves his own in his pockets. I hate how it brings back a feeling like a part of me is missing—I hate it so much.

He checks his watch and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I watch the whole damn thing. I wonder what he tastes like. Maybe like craft beer and mint. I wonder if he’s ever wondered what kissingmewould be like.

“It looks like we have about fifteen minutes until the sun sets behind the skyline. Let’s have a seat.” He sits first, steadying the worn-out wooden swing for me to sit next to him. I lower myself slowly, still confused on how I can feel so different with him than I feel around Patrick. It’s like night and day. Uptight and calm. Worthless and… Well… not worthless.

“This song…I used to play it on repeat, you know?” he admits, chuckling. Heat uncontrollably flushes my cheeks and drops to my neck. From my experience, a song on repeat is more for the lyrics.

“Oh? Why on repeat?” My voice cracks and his grin flashes briefly, dazzling against his olive skin. He gazes out to the horizon, a brazen look remaining on his handsome face.

“You know, there’s something magical about this. Being up here….” He gives me a smile that sends my pulse racing, ignoring my question. “With you,” he whispers. I’m unable to speak. I am without words. Goosebumps form over my skin at his admission.

“Waverly,” his voice throaty. “This song was on repeat because it reminds me of you. I’d give nothing more than to have one night with you.”

My mouth falls open and I turn away from him, unable to hold his gaze for fear he can read right through me. He’d see that despite being with his brother, I long for more, and Roman has my attention. My ears start ringing, increasing the fearthat I’ll miss what he says next. I have to hear what he has to say next. A soft breeze trickles across my skin, forcing me to shiver—and it has nothing to do with the temperature, but everything about his words and the scent of him creeping into my soul.

His hand rests on mine as it lays face down between us.

“Not because I don’t want to have you in my bed every night,” he chuckles. “But I feel like one night withyouwould be better than having to go my entire life not knowing what it’s like to be the one who gets to make you feel like the most beautiful person in the world. To tell you how painfully stunning you are. How brilliant you are…” He looks back out at the now setting sun, and I can’t bring myself to do anything but tear up. “How you’re perfect forme,” his voice trails off. He’s at a loss for words. But so am I.

This is the place of miracles. Is he my miracle?

“Rome…I…I don’t know what to say.” And I don’t. I swallow a lump in my throat. Has there always been a thing between us? Something I’ve overlooked or chalked up to being a divine friendship. Just two people who see eye to eye, crave the same things out of life. Everything Roman wants to give me is the only things I’ve ever wanted in a man. And the man I do call mine doesn’t scrape the bare minimum of what I need in a relationship. But I can’t step out on what I have right now. Not yet. I love Patrick. Actually… “I can’t say anything right now,” comes out in a rasp. I clear the frog from my throat and continue, “Not right now.”

I stare out at the sunset with his hand still resting on mine, until I take a leap and turn my own to face upward, entangling our fingers, once again. He doesn’t look over at me, but squeezes three times. I look at him and smile while butterflies start to take flight in my stomach, but I tamp them down. It’s something I’ve grown good at over the past few years.

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