“What are we doing?” Corbin frowns, his thumb sweeping slow, soothing circles across my cheek.
I shake my head, my breath unsteady. “I don’t know. I…”
I can still feel the press of his body against mine, still hear the unsteady breath he let out when I pulled him closer.
“You said you couldn’t do this to Tate,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Has that changed? Do you…” He trails off, watching me, waiting.
I lick my lips, the taste of him still there, sending another pulse of longing through me. “I’m not sure,” I admit. “I need to figure out… you know, how I feel. About you. Specifically.”
A flicker of something—hurt, maybe—crosses his face before he tamps it down. He clicks his tongue and his fingers slip from my cheek, back into my hair. “You should take some time to do that,” he says evenly. “But we can’t keep doing this to each other if this isn’t what you want.”
I press my palm against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat beneath my fingertips. He’s always so calm. Always so sure. It’s maddening.
His other hand finds my waist, his fingers flexing, pulling me closer once more. He leans in and presses his lips to mine—soft, unhurried, patient.
He’s giving me space to pull away.
I don’t.
I lean in, meet him halfway, sinking into the heat of him, the familiarity, the comfort. I know what my body wants. It wants him. The feel of his hands on me. The rasp of his breath against my skin. The way he holds me like I belong to him.
But my heart? My heart is caught somewhere between past and present, between what we were and what we could be.
And my mind? My mind is a battlefield of logic and longing, of don’t go down this road again and what if he’s right?
I part my lips, needing more of him, needing answers.
Instead, he pulls back. Just enough to leave me breathless, just enough to leave me aching.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly, the promise wrapped in certainty. “So when you’re ready to do this, I’ll be right here.”
He means it.
I can see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his hands linger a second too long before he lets me go.
“Mom! Dad!”
Tate’s voice slices through the moment like a blade, jerking me back to reality.
Our son scrambles out of the bumper car, his blond hair a mess, his grin wide and full of joy as he races toward us.
I tear my gaze from Corbin, blinking past the emotions warring inside me.
My heart aches.
I told Corbin we couldn’t do this because I couldn’t put Tate through another heartbreak. Because I couldn’t withstand another heartbreak.
But what if I was wrong?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Corbin
I’m trying to keep my distance from Jules. To give her space. But it’s wreaking havoc on my sleep.
The past three nights, I’ve laid awake staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of that kiss at the pumpkin patch. Every lingering glance. Every touch. Wondering if I pushed too far.
But how could I not?
