Page 80 of Wish I Didn't Want You Back

My eyes widened the second I realized what I said.

“Oh, trust me. I know.” His fingers brushed over my waist. “And I love you too.”

I wasn’t expecting him to say it back, but I was relieved that he did. I never thought I would hear those words come from his mouth ever again. I was grinning and thankful that he wasn’t making it awkward.

I wrapped my arms around his neck without even thinking. “If you love me, don’t ever throw me in this freezing-ass lake again.”

He chuckled. “You’re kinda cute when you’re mad.”

We drifted lazily in the water. The sun was beating on my face as I floated on my back. It felt like another lifetime ago when we would come to this very spot. When we were younger, it was about being out of sight, where no one could hear us. It was our own quiet little cove where the rest of the world faded away.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, pulling me to his chest.

“I was thinking about how far we’ve come over the last few weeks.”

He pushed the wet hair back from my face. “Me too. I want to take advantage of this second chance we’ve been given and do it right this time.”

The water lapped around us. “I know we still have a lot to figure out, and I don’t know what things look like long term, but Brooks,” I said, pulling him closer, “I don’t want to marry you just because it’s convenient.”

“I don’t want that either,” he said, surprising me.

“So, what do we do now?”

His hands slid lower, gripping my hips as he pulled me deeper into the lake. “Now, I kiss you.”

The kiss started out slow and gentle, but it deepened quickly. I sighed against his mouth and clung to him. The sun began to dip, but I didn’t want to rush this kiss. Every sweep of his tongue was a promise. Every caress of his fingers was an unspoken vow. I kissed him back with everything that I had.

His fingers traced a small path down my back as if he were afraid I might disappear.

I had no intention of going anywhere. Not this time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

HARLOW

The fresh scent of new paint filled the room as I ran the beige paint roller against the wall. I wanted this house to feel like a home again. I’d been at it for hours. My arms ached, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. It was actually soothing, and a sense of pride came over me as I stepped back to survey my work. This room was almost done. There were only a few spots to touch up, so it seemed like progress.

My phone rang from the windowsill behind me. I put the roller in the tray and dried my hands. The ringing stopped before I could answer.

I checked the screen and groaned when I saw my dad’s name. Then it started ringing again. I stared at it for a beat, debating on if I should ignore it or answer. I shook my head, knowing the calls wouldn’t stop until he got through to me.

I hit accept and tried to sound as polite as possible. “Hi, Dad.”

“Have you completely lost your mind?” he said, skipping over any type of greeting.

I leaned against the windowsill. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

I should have gone with my gut and let the call go to voicemail.

“Baz told me he drove almost five hours in the middle of a storm to talk to you, and you sent him away. You were supposed to come back here and do damage control.”

I closed my eyes; the paint fumes were starting to mix with the headache I felt coming on. “I already told you; I’m not coming back.”

There was a long pause, long enough for me to think maybe he would hang up. No such luck.

“Do I need to remind you who you are dealing with here?”

I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “I’ve made my decision. You and the Zimmermans need to accept it.”

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