Page 53 of I Wish I Would've Warned You

When I wake up, the lights are low and Emily is curled against my lap, her book resting against her stomach. My thigh is her pillow. One of her hands is tangled in the fabric of my hoodie.

For a second, I don’t move. I just watch her.

She’s barefoot. Quiet. Still wearing that shirt.

She looks like she belongs here.

She looks likehome.

I run my fingers gently through her hair, and her eyes flutter open.

“Thanks for letting me crash,” I murmur. “I think I’m capable of driving now.”

“What made you incapable?”

“Lingering effects from an old car accident,” I say. “I was lucky to come out alive, but the effects still find me a few times a year… usually when I’m exhausted or sleeping.”

Her gaze softens.

“Did you mean what you said? About my mom staying away from Aidan? Or was that just the… episode talking?”

“Both.” I lean in and kiss her forehead, brushing her hair back. “We’ll talk when you’re home.”

She watches me for a beat, then glances toward the clock.

“It’s only midnight,” she says softly. “You should stay.”

I open my mouth to protest, but she leans in and kisses me.

Slow. Lingering. Her lips barely move at first, just press and stay there. Like she’s holding me in place. Like she knows I need this more than I’ll ever say.

Her hand curls at the back of my neck, and the kiss deepens.

My hands move instinctively—sliding up her thighs, settling at her waist—but I stop myself before I take it any further. Not tonight. Not like this.

She pulls back just enough to whisper, “Please.”

And that one word—just that—undoes whatever defense I had left.

I let her guide me toward the bed, her fingers still wrapped in my shirt. The mattress dips beneath us and we fall together, limbs tangling like we’ve done this a hundred times.

She presses her face to my chest and sighs. I breathe her in and pull her closer.

We don’t speak.

We don’t need to.

We just stay like that until sunrise—twisted in sheets, hearts pressed together, bodies clinging to something neither of us will dare define.

When the sky turns pale blue, I slip out of bed, careful not to wake her.

Not because I want to leave.

But because if I stay another second, I’ll never go home.

PART 4

It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.

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