Page 29 of November's Bad Boy: Kacen
“I don’t want you to stay just because it’s the right thing to do,” she says. “I want you to stay because your heart is in it. Because you want a life here. With me. Even when it’s hard.”
My throat thickens. “My heart is in it. You are what brought me back. You’re why I want to stay. You made me want more than just surviving.”
Her hands find mine, fingers cold but certain as they twine with mine. “Then stay,” she whispers. “But not just for me. Stay because you believe in it. In us.”
“I do. More than I have believed in anything in my whole life.”
The smile that spreads across her face is slow and bright, cracking open the ache I thought I’d buried.
She exhales, breath catching with it, and then she laughs. “God, we’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” I say, brushing a thumb across her knuckles. “But I like us ridiculous.”
“Okay,” she says.
And then she kisses me.
It’s not fast. Not frantic. Just soft and deep and full of all the things we haven’t said and all the promises we’re finally brave enough to make. Her hands slide into my hair, fingertips threading through the strands as if she’s anchoring herself there. I used to wonder what this would feel like — how her lips would taste, how her body would fit against mine. It’s exactly what I imagined. And entirely new all at once.
The warmth of her lips, the gentle sigh she gives when I press in closer. It sinks into me, filling all the cracks I never thought could heal. My fingers find the back of her neck. And the rest of the world falls away.
I want to stay here forever, lost in her. The woman who once hated me now holds me like she’s afraid to let go. And I won’t give her any reason to. Not again.
When we pull back, our foreheads stay pressed together, eyes closed, breathing in sync.
We’re both laughing now. A little breathless. A little overwhelmed.
“We’re really doing this,” I say.
She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek, and I brush it away with the back of my hand. “Looks like it.”
Inside, through the windows, I see Ruby slip an arm around Orville. She watches us for a beat, then murmurs something into his shoulder. He chuckles, and she grins wide.
It makes me remember something she used to say back when I was a kid.
“Friendsgiving couples fall the hardest.”
And maybe we do. Maybe we fall too fast, too hard, too messy.
But I don’t mind falling, not anymore. Not when I know she’s falling too.
Not when I finally feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
Right here. With her.
EPILOGUE
KINGSTON
The fire inside my cabin burned bright while outside, fat, lazy snowflakes drifted past the window. I’d gotten used to spending the holidays alone. It wasn’t all bad. I had a homemade turkey dinner my chef had left in the refrigerator for me to reheat and an expensive bottle of white wine all to myself. It wasn’t how I’d imagined spending every Thanksgiving, but it was more than I deserved.
Somewhere down the mountain, Mustang Mountain’s annual Friendsgiving potluck was in full swing. Ruby Nelson probably had everyone in town stuffed into the community hall, singing off-key and piling second helpings onto mismatched paper plates. It was the kind of thing she lived for.
It used to be the kind of thing I lived for, too.
I speared a green bean and shoved it into my mouth without tasting it. Instead of sitting shoulder to shoulder with people I’d grown up with, I was alone in my cabin with a gourmet turkey dinner for one and the kind of silence that felt like punishment.
Which, I guess, it was.
