Page 138 of Revival

“Me too.”

My lashes flutter through a yawn. “How much did you spend?”

“Ten grand,” he answers without pause.

“You spent ten grand to take a trip with me?” I scramble to my knees beside him.

“Worth every single penny.”

“You’re unhinged, Spencer Stone.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. Maybe a little unethical.” He grins wickedly, then touches his mouth to mine.

I sink into the taste of him. Tonight revealed just how close I was to losing him forever. As much as him walking away hurt me, it’s the reason we’re here right now.

The years we lost we can never get back, but the future is laid out in front of us, waiting for us to write our story together in permanent ink.

The front door flying open startles us apart.

“Mom! Mom? Where are you?” Oliver’s frantic voice fills me with panic.

“Oliver, what’s wrong?” Spencer and I are both on our feet, moving toward the door.

“Are you okay?” In three strides, Ollie’s across the floor and pulling me into a tight hug. “I heard Lee tell Juniper about what happened tonight.”

“I’m fine, honey.”

Ollie flits his gaze over my face in a way that’s eerily reminiscent of one of his uncles. I fit my palms to his cheeks to steady him.

“I’m fine.” The finality of my tone nullifies further questions.

Oliver grabs my wrists and hugs me again. “Heard you punched the guy,” he says to Spencer.

“I did.”

“Good.”

I point my finger between the two boys. “We do not condone violence.”

“Mom, if a guy tries to hurt your girl, you’re allowed to kick his ass.”

Spencer grunts to conceal a laugh. “I’m on his side.”

I put on my best stern face. “I don’t need the two of you teaming up on me or getting into trouble.”

Oliver looks at Spencer and cracks a smile. “This could be fun.” He turns on his heel and strolls to the kitchen with all the swagger of a high school junior.

“I swear, Spencer, if you corrupt my boy—”

“Bro, I’m almost eighteen. Stop calling me your boy.”

“I’ll stop calling you boy when you stop calling me bro!” I yell after him.

“Whatever. I’m ordering pizza. Did you guys eat?” Ollie’s voice floats around the corner. The fridge opens and closes, followed by the hiss of a pop bottle cracking open.

Before I can answer, Spencer beats me to it. “Throw on one for us. Still like pepperoni and black olive?” he asks me.

“That’s what we usually get,” Ollie answers from the kitchen.

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