Page 67 of Chasing Wildflowers
I glare back. “After you shaved my eyebrows and drew fake ones on with Sharpie before my date with Brandy Johnson, asshole.”
He flips me the finger before slamming the door in my face and locking it.
Fucking prank war.
To be fair, he started it by putting hot sauce in my soda when we were thirteen. I retaliated by replacing his bodywash with maple syrup. It escalated until we were seventeen, and our moms put an end to it after the prom incident.
We listened. Mostly.
We still fuck with each other and play small pranks, but we’ve toned it down. Neither of us wanted to be hairless again.
I glance between the stairs and my bedroom door, debating if I could get away with hiding out a little longer. It’s too late, Miles already threw me under the bus. Mom’s bound to come looking for me soon. Squaring my shoulders, I head downstairs to face the two women in my life.
I come up behind my Mom and wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on her head. “Hey, Mom. Miss me?”
“If you think you can butter me up, you are very much mistaken, Jameson Andrew Crowe.” I wince at her using my full name. She turns, wrapping her arms around me, her warmth instantly calming me, like it has since I was a boy. “Give me a hug anyway. But you and I will behaving a conversation, son,” she scolds, her eyes narrowed.
“Yes, ma'am," I say, kissing the top of her head and hugging her back.
I release my Mom, turning my attention to Lane and mentally cross my fingers. “Can we talk?” I ask, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I just need her to hear me out.
She nods. “Yeah, just let me go grab a hoodie and I’ll meet you on the porch.”
The porch swing sways gently beneath me as I listen to the birds chirping in the background, letting their song settle over me, hoping it will sooth my nerves as I wait for Lane.
I know she isn’t going to forgive me right away. I don’t blame her.
All I want is a chance, just one. A chance to show her how much she means to me, how every choice I make now starts and ends with her. A chance to prove that I’d burn the world to the ground if it meant keeping her safe. And most of all, a chance to earn back the trust I shattered.
I’ll never lie to her again. Not about the big things, not about the small ones, not even about the things that seem too insignificant to matter; because they do matter. She matters. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if she lets me.
The screen door creaks open and I look up, my breath catching when I see her. She’s wearing a gray sweatshirt and leggings, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, with a few rogue strands framing her face. She’s never looked more beautiful.
“You’re mom is amazing,” she says, offering a small smile as the door clicks shut behind her.
I manage a faint one in return, motioning to the spot beside me. “Sit with me?”
She lowers onto the swing beside me, but doesn’t speak. She just stares out into the yard, watching the birds dart between the trees as their leaves rustle in the cool morning breeze.
“I need to know everything, Jameson. No more secrets or keeping things from me.” she says, without looking my way.
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it hard to breathe. I hope she doesn’t hate me more once she knows it all. I hope she can understand why I kept the truth from her…even if I don’t deserve her understanding.
So I tell her. Everything. From the moment the client reached out to us, to every choice I made after. I don’t soften the edges or leave anything out. I lay it all bare between us, piece by piece, praying that it’s not too late.
She’s quiet for just a beat before she finally turns her head, her eyes burning into me. “You should have told me,” she says, each word deliberate and heavy. “I deserved to know my life was in danger. I deserved to know the man I let into my bed and my heart was actually sent to track me down.”
Her voice waivers and she looks away, her shoulders slumping. “But you are right. I would have run. So, while I don’t like that you kept it from me. I get it. And I can’t completely fault you for it.”
The words almost get caught in my throat, but I push them out, needing to know. “Where does that leave us?”
She stands and crosses the porch, her shoes softly echoing with each step. She leans against the rail, facing me, arms crossed over her chest. “There is no us, Jameson. There never really was. Our relationship was based on lies.”
Her words are like a punch to the gut. I push off the swing, taking a step toward her. “That’s bullshit and you know it,” I snap, my voice rising slightly. “Don’t you dare belittle what we have. I know I fucked up by not telling you from the beginning. I’m sorry for that. But everything I felt, everything I said was real, Lane. Don’t you dare doubt that.”
“You wouldn’t have ever even known I existed if you weren’t paid to track me down because I killed my ex-husband and disappeared.” Her voice shakes, tears brim her eyes. “You hear how fucked up that is, right? What kind of relationship can we have after that?”
I close the space between us and brace my hands on either side of the railing, caging her in without touching her. “I don’t care how or why I found you, just that I did.”
