Page 116 of Second Sin

She doesn’t let go.

Not even for a second.

My body tightens. It builds fast, then slow again, caught in her rhythm. My heart pounds so hard I swear she can feel it against her palms. I grab her waist, sit up straighter, mouth to her throat, her jaw, her lips.

“I love you,” I choke out against her mouth.

Her fingers dig into my back.

And then I’m gone.

“It rips through me. My body locks, hers still moving around me, and I don’t—can’t—look away.

It’s not just pleasure. It’s release. It’severything. Like my heart’s cracked wide open and she’s the only thing holding it together.

She holds me through every second of it.

My body’s wrecked. Wrung out and shaking. Every nerve lit up, like she rewired me from the inside out.

“Can’t lose this. Can’t lose you.” My voice is rough, low, honest.

“Not going anywhere, Sebastian."

And fuck, I believe her.

She shifts enough to rest against my chest, legs tangled with mine. One hand spread wide over my heart. The other sliding slow across my jaw, my neck, my shoulder—soft, reverent touches.

I stare at the ceiling, one arm wrapped around her, wondering how the hell I got so fucking lucky.

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe it’s time to let go of the ghosts.

Maybe I don’t have to carry the wreckage alone.

I kiss the top of her head.

And start to hope.

CHAPTER 44

OLIVIA

THREE MONTHS LATER

Isit beside Beth in section 104, low-level seats close enough to see the tension in the players’ shoulders and the flash of blades digging into the ice. Ron’s on her other side, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, just like Ethan used to do. He’s got that familiar crease between his brows, the one that deepens every time the opposing team gets possession.

The puck hits the back of the net and the place erupts. A sea of red and silver jerseys rises around us, voices cracking with the kind of wild, contagious joy you don’t plan—you just feel.

I’m on my feet before I know it, clapping hard, breath caught somewhere between a laugh and something close to disbelief. My palms sting. My throat’s raw. And for a second, I don’t think about headlines or what comes next. I just feel it.

That rush. That quiet, aching fullness. Like something cracked open inside me and light finally got in.

Not because everything’s fixed. But because, for once, it doesn’t have to be.

Beth’s hand slides into mine. Warm. Steady. When I glance at her, her eyes are crinkled at the corners, full of something soft and knowing.

“It’s so good to see you happy,” she says.

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