I run my thumb over my bottom lip, not bothering to hide the smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth. "If six years wasn't enough time to win her heart, I don't think it's gonna happen for you. If I were you, I'd pack my shit and leave just like she asked before we have a problem."
"Nah, I told you once, I play for keeps, and I don't lose." His words are confident but ignorant of reality.
"That's what you don't seem to get, Donovan. This isn't a fucking game to me. It's my life!" I say, taking a step forward and pounding my chest, my rage hitting a boiling point.
That's when my peripheral vision catches Laney's stare from the backseat of Asha's car. Her eyes are locked on me, quizzical and intense, dissecting every word and reaction as she tries to put together the pieces I haven't given her. The pieces that woulddestroy her world as surely as they destroyed mine. She deserves to know. But not like this.
I move to close the distance between us, but Noah beats me there, slamming the car door before saying, "Let me tell you what's not going to happen: you and her." His voice drops to a whisper as he leans in. "You may no longer fear giving her the truth..." He looks around before speaking low enough that only I can hear. "But tell me, are you willing to switch places with her that night?"
My blood runs cold. Through the window, I see Laney press her head against the seat. My eyes narrow on his, searching for a bluff. "You'd really do that to her?"
I took the fall. I disappeared. I erased a night, and I have no doubt his father helped cover my tracks and buried the evidence beneath layers of privilege and power.
"Try me, Hale," he spits. "You don't get to take the girl."
I meet his infuriated glare with heat that burns hotter than his. This isn't over, but for tonight, I'll let him have the last word. He doesn't need to know my intentions so that he can sabotage them. I can't think straight with adrenaline coursing through my veins, turning my thoughts to static. I don't think he'd reopen the case and put Laney on trial. He cares for her more than that. But discovering she's in the same town as me is a fresh wound, and his hate for me runs deep.
"If you make good on that threat, it will be the last thing you do," I say, my voice a warning. "I already live in hell. A cell won't change that." I hold his dark-blue gaze, ensuring there's no mistake that my words, unlike his, aren't an empty threat.
Then, turning on my heel, Fisher steps to my side. "Stay with the girls tonight," I tell him. "I don't need him pulling anything that can't be undone."
"Yeah, I was planning on making sure they got home safe anyway." Fisher's eyes search mine. "What about you? Are you going to be okay?"
"I haven't been okay in a long time. This is nothing new." Isqueeze his shoulder. "Take care of the girls, and don't worry about me."
The weight of Noah's stare burns into my back as I walk away, each step carrying me farther from Laney but not from the truth that binds us. The night air fills my lungs, cold and sobering. I thought she was in my past. I've mourned the loss of her for six years, but what I'm finding is that the past doesn't die, and if that's true, it's not even the past. It's now.
Chapter 23
LANEY
"Come on, Laney." Asha splashes me from the pool. "Get in. The water feels amazing…so good that you might even forget we have two baboons babysitting us."
"Hey." Fish throws his hands up. "What did I ever do to you?"
She rolls her eyes. "Sorry, Fish." Her eyes slide over to Trigg. "You, I'm not sorry."
I know why Fisher came back with us. He's Sydney's brother, and after what I heard London confess in the parking lot tonight, I wouldn't put it past him to have asked his best friend to see us home safely, but Trigg is a different story. He didn't like it when I told him Asha didn't think about him, and I think he's trying to see to it that changes. After tonight, many things that seemed hazy before are becoming clearer. Our loosely fake relationship isn't just about London. It's about her too. If he's with me, he has an excuse to see her.
"Seriously, Laney, get in here and make a memory. Let's end the night on a good note instead of the shit one the guys dealt us," she huffs out before putting her elbows on the edge of the pool.
"If I remember correctly, it was your scandalous dancing that caused a scene worthy of a rescue," Trigg tosses back.
"Are you serious? We were dancing together. Are you suggesting our outfits and our moves were an open invitation?"
"Not at all. I know it kills you to believe I'm not a misogynistic pig, but it wasn't your outfits. It was, however, your come-hither stare-down coupled with that French-tipped forefinger beckoning the next sorry fuck after you'd had your fun."
That makes my lips quirk to one side as I stare up at the stars littering the night sky. They have to know this banter disguised as hate isn't fooling anyone. I wonder if Asha's delayed clapback is because she caught the same detail I did. He's paying attention. A guy who wasn't looking wouldn't have noticed her manicure.
Her response fades into background noise as her mind drifts back to someone else who noticed me tonight. When Trigg and Fish showed up without London, I hadn't expected to see him. I assumed he'd heard I was going and decided he didn't want to go since he's been so adamant about my leaving, so I hadn't prepared for the way my heart would seize when our eyes met across the crowded bar, and I sure as hell didn't see that kiss coming.
My fingers instinctively trace over my lips as the memory of our kiss blazes vividly behind my closed eyes. What did it mean? Does he still feel the same electric current I do whenever he's around, that magnetic pull whisperingyou're still mineeven though time and circumstance scream otherwise? Was it a mere habit, muscle memory from our past, or something more?
It was just one kiss. One single kiss. But that brief collision of our lips has me questioning if it holds the power to demolish everything I've built since we fell apart. The past can't be undone, but can it be rewritten, or am I fooling myself again?
My mind tortures me, recalling every second of his body pressed against mine, pinning me between his familiar warmth and the rough brick column that sheltered us from prying eyes. The way his hands cupped my face with a tenderness I'd forgotten then drifted down my body like he was memorizing me all over again. His soft lips meeting mine felt like a homecoming I'd been waiting for. I wanted to capture that moment, preserve it, and letit crystallize into the future I once dreamed about, but it was that thought that slapped me with a cruel dose of reality. We're not those people anymore. I can't let myself free-fall for London again without answers, without certainty.
That realization jolts me upright, and I pat my pockets, remembering how he AirDropped his number to my phone after he put me in the car, his body lingering above mine for a beat too long after he buckled me in. The thought of calling him has my palms sweating before they ever connect with my phone. I need to know if that kiss meant to him even half of what it did to me. I need to know if it's haunting his thoughts the way it's possessing mine and, more importantly, if he's aching to do it again.
