Reckless Hearts (Oak Harbor #2)(35)

“You’ll live.”

Mom gets up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” She heads towards the bathrooms, and Dad waits a moment, then bobs up out of his seat too.

“Just need to check in on something.” He winks and disappears to go talk to the server. Will and I are finally alone.

I let out a long breath, and reach for my wine.

“How are you holding up?” Will asks. I give him a faint smile.

“Better, with you here. Thank you. You know, they’d be giving me that quiz about future plans and family if you weren’t here to take the bullet.”

“I like them,” Will says. “They just want you to be happy.”

“Well, they love you,” I tell him, then pause, suddenly feeling shy. “I can’t believe you came,” I say softly.

Will gives me a quizzical look. “You want me, I’ll be there. That’s just the way this works.”

This?

I feel that shiver in my chest again. I swallow, about to ask exactly what “this” is, but my parents rejoin us at the table, and a moment later, the server brings over champagne and a small, perfect chocolate cake, decorated extravagantly with fresh flowers and fondant.

“For the love of my life,” Dad announces, getting to his feet. Mom gasps and claps her hands together, tears glistening in her eyes as Dad makes his toast. “It was the best day of my life when you agreed to marry me, and every day since then, I thank my lucky stars I found you. Here’s to another twenty-five years together, darling.”

The other diners break into applause. He leans down to kiss her, and they smile and whisper sweet nothings to each other. It’s the perfect picture—except I know there’s way more to the story, lurking just out of the frame.

Like the woman he kept out in Charlotte, and the night when he finally came clean: Mom throwing all his clothes out the window onto our front lawn, and then sobbing for hours on the bathroom floor like I’ve never seen before—and never want to witness again.

I hate myself for feeling this way: looking at their happiness now and seeing nothing but past pain. God, why can’t I just let it go? Why am I the only one who remembers all the lies?

“I’ll be right back,” I murmur, and bolt from my chair. I hurry to the restroom and lock myself in a stall, trying to process all the emotions whirling in my chest.

It’s just a dinner, I tell myself. If this is the story they want to tell themselves about their marriage, it shouldn’t matter to me.

I take a deep breath, then another. Soon, I’m able to get my emotions back under control. I rinse my hands under cold water and touch up my makeup, and by the time I rejoin the table, I’ve got a big smile plastered on my face—and I keep it there for the rest of the meal. Only Will shoots me a couple of questioning looks; Mom and Dad remain oblivious, feeding each other cake and cooing happily until the check is signed and thankfully, this anniversary is over.

We say our goodbyes at the table, and I promise to come visit them soon. “You too, Will,” Mom says hopefully. “We’d love to see you again.”

“That would be great.” He shakes my dad’s hand. “Congratulations again.”

We exit the restaurant. “So,” Will begins, placing a hand on the small of my back, guiding me across the street to where he’s parked. “Do you want to tell me what that was about—”

He doesn’t get to finish; I’m already pulling his face down to mine and kissing him with everything I have. He stumbles back, surprised, but I loop my arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily, desperate and searching.

“Wait.” Will tears away from me. “Your parents . . .” He quickly looks around, so I tug him back into shadows behind his truck, hidden from view as I push him up against the passenger door and claim his mouth again. This time, he doesn’t protest, just sinks into the heat as I cling to him, pressing my body against every inch of him, licking into his mouth and making him groan.

“Thank you,” I tell him, when I finally have to come up for air. I kiss along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe. “Seriously, thank you for doing this.”

I feel Will chuckle against me. “If this is my reward, sign me up for every anniversary, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.”

“Baby, I’m just getting started,” I promise. His face is shadowed in the darkness, but I can see the light in his eyes, strong and bold with passion, that reckless hunger that’s ricocheting in my veins, too. I catch my breath, my heart pounding. We’re on the edge of something here, and all it’ll take is just one small step to send me hurtling into the unknown.

I touch a finger to his lips, and take that step.

“It’s time for you to take me home.”





Twelve.


Will drives me back to his place, silent in the dark with the windows rolled down. I keep my hand in his, our fingers intertwined, trying to ignore the wild racing of my heart and the knot tangled tight, just beneath my ribcage.

I’ve done this before, but somehow with him, it feels brand new. Every look, every touch, full of possibility—and a risk too, something deeper and more dangerous than I’ve known before.

This matters. He matters.

He leads me inside, and flips the lights on. “You want something to drink?” he asks. “I have water, beer . . .”