"I don't know what to say," I begin helplessly.
"Don't say anything." She gently pushes my hand holding the check back. "A new horse would have cost me twice this, and someone else might not have figured out what you did, which could have cost me precious time with my sister. Besides…"—her gaze drifts toward the bar where an auburn-haired man raises his glass to her with unmistakable interest—"I have a feeling my story isn't over, just...redirecting." Her smile becomes genuinely warm. "I'll see you around, Laney Hart."
After all the confessions I have given and heard, I need a drink. I follow a few steps behind Madison, but instead of heading to the bar, I veer right and cut off a server carrying a tray of champagne, stealing not one but two flutes.
"For a friend," I lie with a smile before making my way to the edge of the party.
All the people I care to talk to are currently unavailable. Asha is plotting, Fisher is talking to a pretty girl across the pool, and Sydney is currently in bed with a migraine. The stress of deciding whether to continue her education is taking a toll on her. Sydney has a very carefree exterior, but inside, she's a boss bitch—fiercely independent, confident, smart as hell, and unafraid to go after exactly what she wants. I wish I could help her work it out, but this is one of those things she has to decide for herself so that she has no regrets.
"Hey," a sultry voice wraps around me like silk. "Are one of those for me?"
I take a hefty drink, downing half of the flute in one go. The champagne burns slightly but not nearly as much as the familiar warmth radiating from beside me. "No, they're for me," I say with a coy smile, finally turning to look into the eyes I've avoided for the past five days.
God, those eyes. Still a dark hurricane that can make me forget my own name, framed by lashes that shouldn't be legal on someone who already broke my heart once. He's standing closer than necessary, close enough that I can smell his cologne, and it's utterly intoxicating, just like the man.
"You didn't return my texts."
"I know. I had a lot to think about," I say before finishing off one flute.
"Do you care to elaborate on that?"
"Your aftercare is shit. I wasn't sure if I wanted to entertain another abysmal performance." He steals my extra glass of champagne. "Hey, that's mine," I grumble.
He downs it one go. "Sorry, that wasn't at all what I was expecting you to say when I walked over here."
"Not used to women telling you you're shit in bed?" I deadpan, the words sliding out before I can stop them. Apparently, small jabs are my coping mechanism of choice this evening.
His jaw tightens, and something dangerous flickers behind his eyes. He takes a slow step closer, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Heartbreaker, if you have something you want to say, then say it. But don't you dare stand there and lie to both of us by pretending what we shared wasn't earth-shattering the same way it was the first time."
The air between us crackles with tension, and I hate how my pulse quickens at his proximity, at the raw honesty bleeding through his words.
Own it, Laney. Tell him everything you've wanted to say. You said you would. If you can't own your shit, you can't ask him to do the same.
"You kissed her…" I lick my lips.
His hand runs over his jaw. "I kissed her to forget you, then I kissed her to hurt you. The problem with kissing Madison is that it was never really her. It always came back to you. When you walked out of that barn, I ended things. She and I haven't been anything in a long time. That was the first kiss we shared in over a year, and I made it clear there wasn't going to be another."
His words hurt, not because they aren't the ones I want to hear, but because they confirm what's been right in front of me all along. He tried to come clean and speak his piece, but I was too scared to listen. Too afraid to hope for an us again when I'm barely surviving losing him the first time. But I'm not scared anymore.
"You didn't let me finish." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "You kissed her, and I had to get out of there." I spin the stemof my empty flute, condensation making my already trembling fingers slip, but somehow, that gives me the courage to push forward with my own raw truth. "I had to get out of there because I wanted it to be me."
He pulls in a stuttered breath. Here we are, two people who never stopped being in love, finally peeling back the lies we told ourselves, only to discover we're still standing on the same side of forever.
"Do you want to get out of here?" He takes another step forward, nearly eliminating all the space between us.
"Just the person I've been looking for," Trigg says, grabbing London's shoulder from behind, annoyance quickly transforming hardened features that had softened for me.
"Now is not a good time," London says, not bothering to pull his eyes away from mine.
"Eh, I beg to differ. I think she likes me a little bit more than you right now."
"How do you figure?" he asks, peeved.
"Well, for starters, you told me she left you on read all week, and from what I've witnessed, you're chasing her tonight, not the other way around. Also, my face is better…" He uses his hands to frame his face. "Stronger jaw, soft face that makes the perfect seat for the ladies—not all this scruff." He goes to touch London's beard, and he swats his hand away.
"This is ridiculous," I snap, grabbing Trigg's hand and leading him away. "I'll be right back."
"Told you she likes me better," he tosses over his shoulder.
