Page 47 of One Night Flame

“You don’t have to explain,” she added quickly. “I just… I wondered.”

I shook my head. “No, you deserve to know.”

The words were there before I’d even decided to say them. Maybe because she’d gone first. Maybe because I was tired of carrying it.

“I wasn’t expecting it,” I said slowly. “I’d been thinking about you—about us—like maybe there was something there worth chasing. And then when I heard him call you ‘Mommy’…” I let the sentence dangle, trying to catch the right thread.

“I froze. Not because of him. Because of me.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t speak. Just waited.

“I was the kid who got left,” I said finally. “My dad took off before I could form a memory of him. My mom—when she was around—mostly treated me like a problem she couldn’t solve.”

I flexed my fingers against my thigh. “I made a promise to myself, somewhere along the line, that I’d never mess up a kid the way they messed me up. That I wouldn’t even get close enough to try.”

She blinked, and I could see the shift happening behind her eyes—not judgment. Just understanding.

“I didn’t pull back because of Liam,” I said. “I pulled back because I didn’t trust myself.”

Silence stretched for a beat.

“But I think maybe I’ve been afraid of the wrong thing.”

Her lips parted, just slightly.

I kept going. “I thought distance meant I couldn’t hurt anyone. But the truth is… you’ve both already gotten under my skin. And not in a bad way.”

Her hand tightened on mine.

“I don’t know if I’d be any good at this,” I admitted. “But I know I want to try.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just watched me for a moment—quiet, steady. Like she was weighing everything I’d said and everything I hadn’t.

Then she turned toward me. “You didn’t run. You showed up. Sick kid, disaster house, me looking like death—and you stayed.”

My throat worked, but no sound came out.

She shifted closer, reaching up to cup my face. “You didn’t screw it up. Not even close.”

I leaned into her touch. Couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d wanted to. And I definitely didn’t want to. “I’mnot a perfect guy.”

Lucy’s mouth curved. “I’m not looking for perfect. I’m looking for you.”

She leaned in, her lips ghosting over mine. An invitation. A question that I couldn’t help but answer with a resounding yes. My hand slid into the silk of her hair, and I sighed, pulling her closer.

I’d spent years building a whole rulebook around what I thought I couldn’t handle. Around all the ways I might fail.

But sitting here now, hearing that? Yeah. That undid something in me. Because this wasn’t about being fearless. It was about showing up, anyway.

And I had. For her. For Liam.

I still didn’t know what came next. But for the first time in a long time, I wanted to find out.

EIGHTEEN

LUCY

When I opened the door, Cord was already on the porch, shifting from foot to foot like he wasn’t sure if he was early or late or about to walk into something bigger than he expected. He looked nice—effortless, but intentional. Clean jeans, Henley that hinted at the fact he could probably lift a car, and that steady, heart-flipping smile aimed squarely at me.

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