Page 120 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
Looking into her bottomless dark eyes, I realize that while I never stopped loving her with my entire soul, she’s made it her mission to cauterize the wound I left behind and erase any meaning I had in her life.
But the longer I stare into her gaze, the more convinced I become there’s still a sliver ofsomethingthere for me, so I hold onto it tight.
I hold on to the danger of possibility.
Caressing her jawline with my thumb, I slide a palm to the back of her neck, sucking in a deep breath to catch her scent.
“You’re right. We need to talk about things, so…dinner tonight? Just the two of us.”
At the question, I feel nervous in a way I haven’t in a very, very long time.
“Dinner?” she asks a little breathlessly with a confused look. “You want…to eat together?”
Oh, I definitely want to eat, Sweetness.
I rein in the sudden bolt of lust shooting to my groin and nod, keeping my hand on the back of her neck. Something very close to anticipation crops up when her eyes slide closed in a long blink.
“Yes, Shae. Think of it as a date,” I say, and her eyes pop open, become shuttered.
“Or don’t,” I add. “Either way, we should talk about everything without the children or other listening ears around, right?”
Please say yes, Shae. Please.
“I…” Her lips part, staying open as the thoughts almost visibly run through her mind. I hold my breath.
Waiting.
Always waiting for Shae…and never minding.
“I can’t, Storm,” she whispers, taking a step back, crossing her arms so tightly it’s like she’s trying to hold herself together.
I understand the feeling.
Still, I smile.
“It’s all right, Sweetness,” I say, drawing on the well of patience only reserved for Shae Olivya Rivers. “Some other time.”
She stares for a moment longer, her lips pressing together, before she nods and sprints back into the house.
And when she’s finally back in the house, leaving me alone with my thoughts, I keep circling back to one refrain: I let her go once. I won’t be that stupid again.
TWENTY-FIVE
SHAE
Iwake to three calls from Yennifer, several emails from Zane and Melissa, and a pair of tiny feet pressed to my spine and another against my cheek.
Raiden and Tempest have their own rooms, but neither wanted to sleep away from me, much less away from the other.
I can’t blame them. I don’t want to be far from them either.
With the lights off and the curtains drawn, I squint at the too-bright screen, trying to bring the intensity down so I don’t wake the twins as I scroll through notifications.
It’s five-thirty a.m. I’d be up, exercised, and well into my day at any other time.
But four days ago, my life completely changed and hasn’t gone back since.
I look over my shoulder at Raiden’s tender face—a face that looks so much like Storm’s, it’s hard for me not to feel the pain I’ve so carefully buried whenever I look at my son and daughter.
