Page 222 of Make the Play

She crumples, and I catch her face in my hands again to brush away a tear—or maybe it’s rain. I don’t know anymore.

“You don’t,” I whisper. “You don’t have to do any of it alone, baby.”

Her eyes are wide and brimming, locked on mine like she’s trying to believe me.

“I want every single piece of you,” I say. “Even the broken ones.Especiallythe broken ones, because—”

My voice cracks and my eyes fill, but I don't care. I let her see every single part of me, because they already belong to her anyway.

“Because every version of you, every fucking piece of you, Zo? Belongs right here.” I thump my fist over my chest. “With me.”

***

Zoe

I suck in a sharp breath, my throat tight, my heart a fucking battlefield. The rain lashes down, soaking into my skin and my bones, into every broken, jagged part of me that I swore I’d never let anyone have.

And yet here he is. Fighting for all of it.

Goddamn him.

I shake my head, half laughing, half crying. “You always have to win, don’t you?”

He lets out a humorless laugh before his jaw clenches, his whole body practically vibrating with restraint as his eyes drag slowly over my face.

“Not this time, Zo. This isn’t a game to me. It’s not a bet around a pool table, it’s not a joke in front of our friends. This is you and me. It’s us.”

“Chase,” I let out a wet sob. “You absolute menace.”

His lips twitch, but I see the wrecked look in his eyes as he waits.

I swipe at my face, but it’s useless with the rain and the tears.

“I hate you,” I whisper, the words a shaky, breathless lie.

Chase steps so close I feel the heat of him even through the cold. His hand comes up, sliding along my jaw, thumb pressing against my pulse like he needs to feel me alive beneath his fingers.

“No, Zoe. You fucking don’t.”

His eyes are a storm, pleading with me to agree with him. To let myself agree with him just this once, to prove to him this whole thing hasn’t been a lie. That I want this life, this wild, insane, crazy life with him just as much as he wants it with me.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, voice barely audible over the rain. “I don’t know how to beloved by someone like you, how to be seen like this.”

My voice breaks as his eyes hold mine, a small crease forming between them as though he thinks I’m preparing to reject him.

“But I want to try…”

His breath shudders out, like he’s been waiting his whole damn life to hear me say it.

I step into him, grabbing onto the collar of his soaked hoodie, forcing him to look me in the eye. “If I do this, Walton—if I jump, if I fall and give you every piece of me—even the ones I don’t like—you better fucking catch me.”

His hands move to frame my face, palms warm against my wet cheeks.

“Try and fucking stop me, baby.”

I pull him down and close the distance, kissing him hard. And when he kisses me back, it’s like the rain itself bows to us.

His lips meet mine, desperate and unyielding. There’s nothing careful about it, nothing hesitant. Just mouths colliding, breaths tangling, hands gripping tight like neither of us ever plans on letting go.

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