Page 33 of Always Been You
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, my voice trembling but steady enough to carry my defiance. “What’s your endgame, Eddie? Buying out companies? Controlling supplies? Are you planning to crush us next?”
Eddie’s hands tighten into a clasp, his knuckles whitening slightly. He exhales slowly, his voice low and deliberate. “Try watching your parents die right in front of you,” he says, laced with raw pain. “Then tell me what you’d do with the pieces of your life.”
His words hit me like a physical blow, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My mind reels. Eddie, with his sharp words and icy demeanor, suddenly feels human. It’s as though his sorrow seeps into the air, making it hard to breathe. I don’t know what to say. I can only stare, his rawness pulling at something I thought I’d buried long ago.
“What… what do you mean?”
Eddie leans forward, his elbows on the desk, his hands clasped as if he’s trying to hold himself together. “Figure it out, Lynx. You’re smart.”
The room falls into an uneasy silence, the weight of his revelation hanging heavy. Elisa shifts beside me, clearly uncomfortable, but I can’t take my eyes off Eddie. His pain is palpable like a storm barely contained beneath the surface.
“I think we should leave,” Elisa says finally, her voice uncertain. She turns to Eddie. “We’ll take this up another time.”
Eddie nods curtly, and Josh takes the cue, stepping forward to escort Elisa out of the office. “Let’s give them a moment,” Josh says, his tone polite but firm when he realizes I haven’t moved. Elisa hesitates but follows, throwing me a questioning glance over her shoulder.
Chapter Fifteen
Eddie
The door shuts behind them, leaving me alone with her. Only her. The soft click of the door echoes through the office and all I can focus on is the way she stands there, looking at me with those hazel eyes that have tormented me for years.
I don’t move at first. My head bows instinctively, my gaze fixed on the desk as if it could ground me. I didn’t mean to say what I did, but that’s what she does to me, always getting me to say or do things I don’t plan to. My grip on the edge of the desk tightens, my knuckles turning white.
She steps closer, close enough to touch. Her face softens, as though she understands everything I’m feeling, and it’s taking everything in me not to lose control.
“Lawliss,” I say, my voice low, rough, and restrained. She shakes her head and closes her eyes as if to steady herself When she opens her eyes, she licks her lips and then whispers, “I’m sorry,” her voice soft and tentative. “I didn’t know you were carrying all that.” How was she supposed to when I didn’t tell her? Slowly, I lift my head and meet her gaze, my eyes locking onto hers.
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Lawliss.”
She takes a step forward, hesitant but steady. It’s so her. She is always fearless when it matters, even if she doesn’t know the full weight of what she’s walking into. She stops when she’s right in front of me, having crossed to my side. She bends to my eye level, her hands finding my face, cupping my cheeks with a gentleness that threatens to undo me. There’s no judgment there, only understanding.
“Then tell me,” she says, her voice stronger now.
God help me; she has no idea what she’s asking. I’ve spent my life trying to plan every move, always looking for the next course of action. After my parents died in that accident, I thought I could piece my life back together. But then I found out that their death wasn’t an accident and that it was planned and staged to look like something ordinary by people we knew and trusted all because of their wealth, and my world shattered. The realization that people pretended to love and care for me and didn’t care for me broke me more than I care to admit.
The truth sucked. To think the kindness and concern my uncle and those people showed me all those years were never real was a big blow.
Then there was her. Lawliss. Her family. They gave me a reason to believe in something again. They made me feel like I could still find pieces of myself that weren’t broken. But I couldn’t hold onto that, not when I realized how dangerous it would be for them. When I saw that the people who killed my parents wouldn’t hesitate to come after me and anyone close to me, it became clear what I had to do. I had to leave. I couldn’t stay and risk their lives. Not hers. Not her family’s.
Every day since then, I’ve carried the weight of that decision. Every year, I’ve lived in silence, loving her in the shadows, praying she would be happy without me. But I couldn’t let her go. I couldn’t even try. That’s why I’ve carried those marriage documents everywhere. It sounds ridiculous, but they were my hope. A reminder of what I wanted us to be, even when it felt impossible.
Looking into her eyes now, I find my control is slipping. I can feel it unraveling with every second she’s crouched down to my eye level. With every moment she looks at me like she understands everything I haven’t even said. If anyone could see me for what I am and still stay, it’s her. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already mine. And this time, I won’t let her pull away.
She searches my face, waiting, but I can’t form the words. How do I explain what I’ve carried all these years and make her understand me without losing her in the process?
Instead, my body moves on instinct. I pull her to stand, my movements firm but unsteady, and I rise with her. In one motion, I push her back against the wall, my hands gripping her arms before I can stop myself. The feel of her skin under my hands sends a jolt through me—familiar, electric, mine.
“You,” I say, my voice rough. “This is what’s driving me insane. You. You make me weak, Lynx.”
She doesn’t flinch, nor does she pull away. Her hazel eyes search mine, and I see something like understanding and maybe even longing flicker.
She opens her mouth to speak and then, before she can speak, my mouth crashes onto hers. Her body stiffens against mine for a heartbeat, and then she melts into me, her hands clinging to my shirt, pulling me closer. She wraps her arms around my neck, opening up and deepening the kiss. She’s fire and chaos and everything I can’t resist. Our breaths mingle and align, raw and desperate, a culmination of days of holding back.
We kiss like we’re on the edge of something we can’t name. Like this is our first chance and our last. I deepen the kiss, pouring into it all the things I don’t have the words to say. It’s raw and consuming, a silent confession of how much I want her and of how much she’s always meant to me. We kiss until the need for air becomes too much, forcing us to break apart.
When I pull back, my forehead rests against hers as I try to steady the storm inside me.
“I don’t think I can stay away from you,” I admit, the words ripped from me before I could stop them. Her voice trembles when she speaks, but her eyes are steady, unflinching.
