Page 43 of Lush

She shifted, her lips parting like she wanted to speak, but nothing came out. She tilted her head just slightly, as though daring me to do it again. It would only take the smallest move to close the distance, to cross the line we both knew existed but neither wanted to acknowledge.

“We’ll get through this. Together.”

Last time she said that, she left town for six years.

I remember diving in, over and over again. The alcohol had burned away, leaving my mind sharp.

“Together,” I echoed. “I just… I don’t know if I can trust that yet. Why couldn’t you have told the truth about what happened that night?”

Her eyes searched mine, and my resolve slipped. The curve of her face pulled me in first, soft and sharp all at once, but it was her lips that unraveled me. Painted a red so vivid it burned.

I swallowed hard.

“You don’t get it, Reese. It wasn’t just about us. My mother… My family. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been…” She exhaled, her breath shaky. “I was going to lose it all. And I couldn’t. You were…you were the wrong choice. And I had to do what they told me. I had to play the part,” Laurene said.

“I loved you,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “I was ready to give up everything for you.”

My fingers twitched at my sides, an urge blooming there—raw, reckless. I wanted to reach for her, to feel the heat of her skin beneath me again. I couldn’t tell if she leaned in or if I was imagining it. She was close, her hands on my chest, staring up.

“You make it so easy to forget why I shouldn’t want you,” I blurted out.

“I’m sorry, Reese. I should have spoken up.”

Do it. Do it. Do it. Get it out of your system.

“I can’t…” I desperately attempted to keep my grip on reality. “That apology… It’s not what I envisioned.”

She had been the only softness in my world of sharp edges.

“Do you want me on my knees? I’m sorry. I fucked up, and I was wrong, and it’s haunted me every day. I’m just…so, so sorry.”

I leaned in, her lips tilting up toward me, soft and inviting, as if daring me to cross the line we’d declared. The world seemed to hold its breath, every sound and sensation fading until there was only her.

My hand hovered near her waist. Her eyes fluttered, her lips parting ever so slightly.

But at the last second, my resolve buckled.

Her hair brushed against my cheek as I shifted in, leaning past her lips and into her neck. Her skin was impossibly warm, impossibly soft, carrying that faint intoxicating scent that was hers alone. It clouded my senses, drowning out logic, reason—everything.

But I couldn’t trust her.

I felt her hesitate; I thought she might pull away. She should’ve. I should’ve.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt with an almost desperate grip. Her breath tickled my ear as she let out a small, shaky exhale, and I wondered if she was disappointed—or relieved.

I closed my eyes, pressing my face deeper into her neck, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my cheek.

It was too much—too familiar, too raw.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I said, my voice barely audible.

“Neither do I,” she whispered. Her hand rose slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair from my forehead.

The urge to drown in her, to behomeagain, to replace the ache of the past with the taste of something pure, something that felt like hope was strong. I built an empire out of my own ruin. But none of it mattered if she won’t stand beside me, if I can’t look at her the same.

“I know I’ve made mistakes,” she said, “but this is where we are now, and there’s no way out except forward. Together.”

My hands tightened around her waist.

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