Page 32 of Mr. Match

They will seal our fates forever, I think. And one day, years from now, I will look back on this night as the start of something and not the end. And I will feel nostalgic and sad, wondering how I could’ve missed the fact that things were perfect.

Chapter Fifteen - OLIVER

We walk down the steps and I have to stop and look at her—just for a second, to make sure it’s all real. Kat’s body is shaking when I pull her tight to my chest. She seems so much smaller than she was four years ago. “I told you,” I say, “that when you came back I’d kiss you everywhere. That I’d still love everything about you. That your scars are my scars. We can own them together.”

She was already breathing heavy when I first approached, but now there’s a hitch when she inhales.

I push her away, just enough so I can see her face. “Are you crying?” She tries to turn away, but my hands automatically come up to hold her cheeks. “Don’t,” I say. “Don’t hide.” Her eyes flutter briefly, then she looks up at me. Tears stuck in her lashes making her eyes glisten with sadness.

We stare at each other for a few moments. Find the familiar and the new there in the shadows of the church. “I knew this day would come,” she says, trying to catch her breath. “But I was never sure which way it might go.”

“Katya,” I say, smiling. “I said I’d wait and I did. I said leave. Do what you need to do. But when you’re done, come back. And you did. It’s over now. You’re here and I don’t care what happens, this moment right now is enough to make me happy for the rest of my life.”

She inhales sharply, shaking her head. But I see a small smile appearing. “How do you know there’s something to be happy about, Oliver? What if everything is just as bad as it was, and worse?”

“I’m a big guy, Kat. I can deal with just about anything life wants to throw at me.”

“I know,” she says, leaning into my chest and burying her head in my leather jacket. “You have always been that way. I just wish I was more like you and less like me.”

“Fuck, no.” I laugh. “No. You’re perfect just the way you are. And I have so much to tell you. Four goddamn lonely years to make up for.”

“Me too,” she says. “But not tonight. Can we play catch-up tomorrow? I just need to make things stop so I can enjoy it a little before it all passes me by.”

“Come on,” I say, leading her towards the bike. “Let’s just get started and we can figure it out as we go. Here. I even have a helmet for you. That’s why I’m a few minutes late. I had to go back inside and grab Ariel’s helmet on the sly. Fucking everyone is over there right now and none of them are too happy with me at the moment.”

“What’s happening?” Katya says as I push the helmet on her head and mess with the chinstrap.

“Nothing you need to worry about. Just old business coming back to haunt us.”

“You say it like it’s nothing,” she says, her fingertips brushing the tears from her eyes.

“Tonight it is nothing. I don’t give a single fuck about anyone but you and me right now.” I swing my leg over the bike, then scoot forward so she has enough room to get on behind me.

The heat of her body pressed next to mine is almost enough to make me sigh. I reach behind and grab her hand. Place it flat on my stomach. “Hold tight,” I say.

“Gonna do tricks on this bike? Afraid I’ll fall off?” she asks, a hint of happiness in her voice.

“Nah,” I say, standing up to kickstart the engine. I look over my shoulder and shoot her a smile. “I just want your hands all over me. Because God knows, my hands will be all over you once we get to my place.”

If she responds, I don’t hear it. Because I rev the engine and take off. She leans into me when we take a corner and I find myself wishing we were about to take a long journey together, just so I can feel the heat of her body.

Sadly, my garage house is two minutes away and I’m pressing the gate remote on my keychain far sooner than I’d like. I wait for it to open, drive though and press it again, sealing us up inside my little fortress.

I press another button on the remote and the last car bay at the far end of the building begins to roll up. I ease the bike into the garage and close it.

When I turn the engine off I sit for a few seconds in silence, not quite sure this is real.

Four fucking years.

The first year I told myself she’d come for holidays. Or maybe summer break. I was so fucking sure of it. Even if it was just to see her sister. But she didn’t. The second year I almost went looking for her address. I dreamed of a road trip. Waiting for her outside an apartment or house. How it would feel to see her as someone other than the person I knew.

But I stopped myself. I know that too much information can be a bad thing. I could imagine an Oliver who was obsessed. An Oliver who wore out his welcome. An Oliver she might come to hate.

So I left her alone. Bided my time. Worked on the business, finished turning this garage into a home. Let my sister become my closest friend and put Kat behind me.

Last year I didn’t think about her much. Or I tried not to. It was hard not to follow her career as an artist. So of course I’d see things. A photograph. Or a painting. Or I’d look at my little buckeye tree in the middle of my living room and suddenly realize it had grown a few feet taller and she’d missed it.

This year I haven’t had time to think about her at all. Too much Mister bullshit going on. She’s always there in the background, but I ignored it. Almost half the year was spent jetting from one crisis to another with Nolan, and West, and Pax.