Page 32 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

She doesn’t. Instead, she looks up at me, her eyes searching mine, and I see something shift there—something open, unguarded. Her lips part, just barely, and that’s all the permission I need.

I lean in, slow enough to give her time to change her mind, but when my mouth brushes hers, she doesn’t pull away. She leans into it. Her hands find my jacket as her fingers curl into the fabric like she’s steadying herself.

The kiss starts soft, almost tentative, but it doesn’t stay that way. There’s too much history between us, too much unsaid, and it spills over like a dam breaking. My hands finally leave my pockets and find her waist. With authority, I pull her closer. She tastes like mint and wine, and when her fingers slide up to the back of my neck, I’m done for.

I don’t know how long we stand there, lost in each other, but when we finally break apart, we’re both breathing harder, the air between us charged. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed, and I’m pretty sure I look just as wrecked.

"Sienna," I start, but she shakes her head, a small, almost shy smile playing on her lips.

"Don’t," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not yet."

I nod, swallowing hard, and take a step back, my hands falling away. "Okay."

"I better go," she says, and my heart breaks all over again. I don't want to push, so I don't argue. I'm hoping she thinks better of it.

Instead, she grabs my hand and gives it a light squeeze before turning on her heel and walking away. Our hands stay linked until our arms can't stretch any further.

And just like that, she's gone.

ELEVEN

Sienna

But what I’d give to rewrite the end

9:06 PM

The walkthrough the park feels both endless and too short, every step bringing me closer to home and further away from him. My heart is still pounding in my chest after that amazing kiss. It was even better than the one at the gala. Is that because I know it's him, or because there is more than my libido involved?

My heartbeat's so loud I swear the few people I pass can hear it. I hug my coat tighter around me, but it’s not the cold that makes me shiver.

He kissed me and I let him. And I liked it.

The thought is surreal, giving me the feeling I’ve stepped into some alternate reality where Callum Reid is back in my life and kissing me under the streetlights in Prospect Park.

My lips tingle from the press of his on mine. And my hands—God, my hands—will never forget the feel of his jacket and the warmth of his body beneath it.

What the hell am I doing?

I force myself to keep walking, the familiar paths winding toward my apartment. My sneakers crunch against the gravel. The sound's sharp in the quiet night. I’ve walked this park a hundred times, but tonight it feels different, new, alive. The park feels heavier tonight, like every shadow, every empty bench holds a piece of what just happened.

It was just a kiss, I tell myself. A stupid, impulsive kiss. Almost like we both needed to do it unmasked. One more kiss. Right? That's all, right?

But my mind doesn’t buy it. There was nothing stupid or impulsive about the way his eyes softened before he leaned in or the way his hands found my waist, steadying me like he was afraid I’d disappear.

And the way I kissed him back—I didn’t just kiss him; I let myself get lost in him.

I stop under a lamppost, pressing my hands to my cheeks to cool the flush that hasn’t gone away since I walked off. My breath puffs out in the cold, and I stare at the ground as my toe draws a circle in the gravel. Anything to help me try to make sense of the mess of feelings tearing through me.

Trust. Pain. Longing. Desire. It’s all tangled together, impossible to separate.

I want to trust him again. I want to believe what he said about trying to reach me, about the regret I saw etched into his face.But the pain is still there, too, buried deep but not forgotten. And underneath it all, that ache—that pull toward him that never really went away, no matter how hard I tried to bury it.

What am I doing? I should go home. I should stop this before it goes any further.

But I don’t.

My feet move before I can stop them, turning me around and carrying me back the way I came. Back to him.

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