Page 70 of Wild Lies

“You should have.”

We don’t know each other. Not really. It’s been a matter of weeks, and as much as my soul feels tethered to his, we still have a lot to learn about each other.

“Please. Don’t go.” It’s a whispered plea, one I’m trying hard not to give in to.

“I can’t stay knowing that the next mistake I make you’d react the same way.” My throat constricts, but I force the words out. “You should have stayed. Should have talked to me. Not walked in, unwilling to hear me out, and then left me to deal with your hurtful words.”

Moisture pools in his eyes, and he stands, removing his touch from me. I feel the loss of him all over again. He jerks his chin with a heavy acceptance. “You’re right. I don’t deserve you.” I want to tell him that he does, but I bite my tongue. “I’m sorry, Chlo. I wish I could change how things went down, and I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting how I acted.” He pauses, his head down, a tear slipping free and tumbling down his cheek. “I hope you find everything you’ve ever wanted. Lord knows you deserve it.” He presses a kiss against my forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he steps back, a lost look in his eyes.

I watch him walk away, every step feeling like he’s ripping my heart out and taking it with him. My eyes are locked on his back, my body unmoving. Flashes of the memories we’ve made assail me, each one a reminder of how happy he’s made me, how he made me feel seen in such a short space of time. I made a mistake, and he overreacted. Am I doing the same thing now? His mistake was a lot worse, sure, but is it really worth losing the best thing I’ve ever had over it?

My feet move before my mind has fully grasped what I’m doing or what I will say when I reach him. I weave between the benches, tugging my bag higher up on my shoulder as I race after him.

I can barely catch my breath when I catch up to him, reaching out to touch his arm. He turns toward me, wiping at the wetness on his cheeks.

“We’re going to have fights, but we have to talk it out. You can’t shut me out like you did and not listen to my side of things. I’m not perfect, Kade, and neither are you. You’re allowed to get upset, but don’t ever throw me away again like you did.”

Hope flares in his gaze, but he blinks, and it’s gone, as if he’s afraid to feel it. “I promise, I won’t. I never should have assumed the worst. And I don’t ever want to hurt you like that again. Hell, I won’t be keeping secrets anymore, Chlo, about anything.”

I should chalk this up to experience and walk away. But my heart belongs to him, and so I close the distance between us. Standing on my tiptoes, I cup the back of his neck and dust my lips over his. It’s a soft, gentle and testing kiss. When I pull away, he places a hand on either side of my face.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much I love and trust you, buttercup. You can count on it.”

I search his face, finding nothing but the truth reflected back at me. “I’m sorry the picture got posted.”

The corner of his mouth kicks up. “It was a pretty cool picture.”

“My favorite one.” I grin before falling serious. “Have you spoken to your family?”

He looks away sheepishly for a second. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have doubted them. They were more mad that I kept it from them than the fact that I was doing it.”

I rest my head against his chest, banding my arms around his waist. “Seems like you might need to work on that. But, also, I told you they would be.”

He kisses the top of my head before resting his chin on it. His chest rumbles under my ear when he replies, “Yeah, you did.”

Leaning back, I stare up at him. “Kade,” I whisper. “Take me home.”

EPILOGUE

KADE

Three months later

I rode my next show—and first without a bandana hiding my identity—a week after Chloe came home. My whole family was there, cheering so loud I could hear them over the adrenaline pumping through me. At the end of the night, I took home second place, but it felt like I’d won a championship buckle. I had Chloe by my side and was riding the wave of giddy energy from my family as we walked out of the arena. What more could a man ask for?

The patio door slides open behind me, the soft woosh punctuating the quiet morning air. I crane my neck toward it, watching as Chloe steps out. Her hair is messy from sleep, and my T-shirt looks like a dress, hitting her mid-thigh. She looks beautiful, and when she comes to stop beside me, I open my arms, waiting for her to climb into my lap.

When she’s settled, she takes my coffee without a word. I watch her take a sip and grimace before she hands the mug back to me.

Snuggling into my chest, she says, “You need to drink better coffee.”

Laughter rumbles in my chest, and I kiss the top of her head. “Good morning to you too, buttercup.”

She smothers a yawn before tucking her hands under her chest. “It’s too early.”

It is for her, but I’ve been awake for hours. “So why’d you get up?”

Chloe lifts her head, pouting down at me. “Because you weren’t in bed.”