Page 122 of Never After Us
I’ve never been anyone’s safe place.Never been the man someone leaned into without trying to escape.The idea of more than a night—of something that remains past morning light—that’s always felt like fiction written for someone else.
But this kiss?It’s rewriting everything I thought I knew.
She’s letting me in anyway.Despite everything that’s been said about me.Despite the anger I used to carry like armor.Despite the way I sometimes look at my own reflection and wonder if I’ve earned a single good thing in this life.
And fuck, it undoes me.
Because she’s this bright, open flame that doesn’t scorch.She’s not reckless with her light—she chooses where to shine it, and somehow, she’s choosing me.Not because I’m convenient.Not because she needs saving.But maybe because there’s something in me she sees worth staying for.
I don’t understand it, but I feel it in the way her lips move against mine—slower now, like she’s memorizing the shape of this moment.Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt and it guts me.Not because of the touch itself, but because of what it says.
It says I’m not being tolerated.I’m being wanted.
It says maybe I get to have this—her.The late nights and music and the laughter and even the silence, all wrapped in the impossible truth that I’m allowed to feel this way.That maybe, just maybe, she’s feeling it too.
And I want to press closer.I want to stay in this breath where the past isn’t clawing at me, where the future doesn’t terrify me, where she’s here and real and kissing me like I matter.
Because in this kiss, she’s giving me something I’ve never had.
A chance.
I kiss her like a prayer I’m not sure I deserve to utter—because I don’t believe in most things but I'm turning into a believer of her.
And I try not to fall apart at how good it feels.
Not just the kiss—but being allowed to want.To need.To feel something without shame, dragging it back.And all I can think is:Please don’t let this be the last time.
Please let this be the beginning.
When we finally pull back, our foreheads touch.Her breath is uneven, and mine isn’t much better.I want to say something—anything—but every thought feels like it might tip this whole thing into too much.I love youis too soon.Is this even love?I’m not sure because I’ve never experienced it.Don’t ever leave mesounds desperate and ...so many emotions want to escape, to speak out to ...but I’m not sure what’s appropriate for this exact moment.
Mara cups my face and smiles.“How did I get so lucky, Alec Hovarth?”Her question takes me a little out of my trance.
I blink, thrown completely off balance.“You’relucky?”
She smiles.“You’re such an amazing man.You choosing me feels like a one-in-seven-billion chance that doesn’t come around often.”
“It’s six-point-two billion, actually,” I correct automatically, because of course that’s what comes out of my mouth.Great job, brain.Real poetic.“That’s not—what I meant to say is, I’m the lucky one.”
She laughs, then presses a featherlight kiss to my lips.“You’re adorable when you glitch.”
“Glitch?”
“When you get flustered, you either go speechless or you say these brilliant things that no one expects.”
“Sounds like you know me.”
“I’m learning,” she murmurs, her head resting on my chest now, as if she belongs there.Like we’ve always fit this way, and just never noticed.
“Do you get angry often?”she asks.
I nod.“Less now.But yeah.”
“Never seen you angry.”She searches my face like she’s reading a map no one else has ever seen.“You’re so fucking harsh with yourself, Alec.”
I probably am, but I’m also explosive.“It’s ...I’m a work in progress,” I admit, because that’s the truth.I’ve been unlearning a lifetime of damage, mistakes, and regrets.And some days, I don’t know if I’m healing or just hiding it better.
She turns in my arms and gives a breathy laugh.“Yeah, well ...we’re both works in progress.”
