Page 73 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
Stevie Hayes is as breathtaking now as she was the first time I saw her.
Liam follows my gaze and his whole expression softens. He elbows me gently. “We’ll take care of all this. Go get your girl.”
I’m rooted for a second, stuck watching her like she’s a mirage I’m afraid will vanish.
Our eyes meet.
It’s all I need.
I cross the room like I’m walking through water, every step slow and heavy. Stevie doesn’t move from the wall or break my gaze. When I’m close enough, her breath catches, and then I’m pulling her into me, arms locked tight around her shoulders.
She fits against my chest exactly how I remember.
Neither of us lets go. For seconds. Minutes. Hours.
I press my face into her hair and breathe her in. My whole body shakes with sobs. She’s crying too. Our shoulders trembleas the noise of the club fades into nothing. A year of distance collapses in the space of a heartbeat.
I murmur against her temple, “Come with me. We can go to my hotel. We can just talk. Please.”
“Padraig…” She stiffens a little in my arms and pulls back enough to search my face. Her eyes are red-rimmed, wet.
“Are you alone?”
Her breath hitches. “Yeah.”
Relief washes over my entire body. This is my one shot, and I’m not going to miss. I cradle her face gently, thumb brushing away the tear clinging to her cheek. “Then let’s get outta here.”
She hesitates for a second. Then she nods.
I lace my fingers through hers. Afraid she’ll disappear if I loosen my grip.
Liam catches my eye from across the room and gives me the smallest nod of approval.
We slip out into the cool New York night, hand in hand, the city’s noise crashing around us.
I’m certain about one thing.
Stevie’s mine and I’m never letting her go again.
twenty
Stevie
A Few Minutes Later
Wedon’ttalkinthe Uber.
Padraig’s hand stays wrapped around mine, warm and unshakable, our fingers meshed together like muscle memory.
The driver whistles along to the radio, Manhattan’s skyline streaks past in fractured neon. Every red light feels like it’s dragging me forward and holding me hostage all at once.
I sneak a glance at him. His gaze is locked on the city rushing by, the muscles in his forearm shifting as his thumb moves slow, steady circles against my skin. It’s a familiar motion he’s always used to calm me down when life spins out of control. Exams. Family drama. Scary movies. Late-night fights about the future.
No matter what we’ve gone through, it means, “I’ve got you.”
God, it’s too easy to fall back into the gravity of this man.
The lobby of the Courtyard by Marriott bustles with a surprising number of late check-ins and elevators groaning their way up the shaft. Padraig doesn’t release my hand as we cross the tile. Or in the elevator. Or when we step inside the standard room with beige curtains and a generic king bed tucked beneath a washed-out landscape print.
