Page 178 of Almost Ours
I stole a glance at her in the rearview mirror, the soft glow of the streetlights casting delicate shadows across her face.
Tonight felt different.
For the first time in months, she let me in. Just a little. Not all the way, but enough. Enough that we talked about something other than Connor. Enough that she looked at me like I wasn’t just a ghost of her past, but someone who still mattered.
I felt like there was a crack in the walls she’d spent so long building between us, and now, leaving felt wrong. I couldn’t change my mind, though. I had committed to this, to the program, to what I knew deep down was the right thing to do.
It just killed me to walk away when, for the first time in a long time, it felt like she might finally be willing to let me stay.
Two months.
This was going to be the longest damn two months of my life
The morning sunpeeked through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. I stretched lazily, a satisfied hum escaping as last night’s karaoke still played in the back of my mind. Things with Ryan had almost felt normal.
But they weren’t. They couldn’t be.
Because normal would have been reaching for him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his chest against mine. Letting him hold me like he used to.
I sighed, pushing the thought away as I turned my head. Nina was still out cold, her arm draped over the edge of the bed, mouth slightly open. I smirked, slipping out of bed as quietly as possible and grabbing my jacket. Coffee. That’s what I needed. Something warm and grounding, something simple.
Before the word could even settle in my mind, he was there again–Ryan. The way his eyes had lingered on me, the heat that had curled low in my stomach at just a glance. God, even here, even now, he slipped into my head as easily as breath.
The warm morning air wrapped around me as I stepped outside, already carrying the promise of heat. The town stirred to life in that slow, lazy way only summer seemed to allow–doors propped open to coax in a breeze, the distant buzz of a lawn mower, and the faint scent of blooming flowers carried in the air. Birds chirped overhead, their songs blending with the distant hum of an engine rolling down the quiet street. I tucked my hands into my pockets, letting the familiar path to the coffee shop ground me.
Last night had been effortless. The kind of effortless that made me forget–for a moment–that Ryan wasn’t mine anymore. He had laughed with me, teased me, looked at me the way he used to. And damn, if it hadn’t made everything hurt just a little more.
Then there had been that moment. The guy at the bar asking for Benny’s number–Ryan’s entire face tightening like he’d been punched in the stomach. He’d looked jealous. Genuinely jealous.
I hadn’t meant to enjoy it, but I did. Because it meant he still cared.
I felt bad that he’d had that moment of terror. Not enough to regret it, though. Because for once, it felt like I wasn’t the only one hurting.
And when I told him I already knew about him leaving–he’d looked scared. Not defensive, not frustrated. Scared. Like he thought I might shut him out completely. Like he thought it would break whatever fragile thing existed between us.
And maybe that was my fault. No, it was my fault. I’d made him feel that way. I hadn’t let him tell me. That guilt sat heavy in my chest, mingling with everything else I wasn’t sure how to deal with.
Up ahead, a figure slumped on a bench near the fountain caught my eye. His head was in his hands, body hunched forward in pure misery. Even from a distance, I could tell.
I squinted. “Shane?”
He looked up, groaning like the movement physically pained him. His sunglasses barely concealed the dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was sticking up in every direction.
“Oh, great,” he muttered. “You’re here to judge me, aren’t you?”
I laughed, stopping in front of him. “Judge you? Never. I am curious, though–how are you even awake right now?”
“Barely.” He rubbed his temples, voice hoarse. “Who thought tequila shots were a good idea? Oh right–me. I regret everything.”
“Sounds about right,” I smirked. “Want me to grab you some coffee? You look like you need it more than I do.”
“I’ll survive.” He didn’t sound convincing. “What are you doing out here so early, anyway?”
“Getting coffee for me and Nina. Thought I’d be productive while she sleeps off last night.” I hesitated, then grinned. “Unlike some people.”
He groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re lucky I like you, Bishop.”
I chuckled, sitting on the bench beside him, stretching my legs out in front of me. The morning was crisp, but the sun was warming the town little by little, the quiet hum of life beginning to stir around us.
