Page 81 of Until The Lights Go Out

“Because I was a scared kid. You were my safe place; the only damn space I ever felt like myself was near you. But everything was so complicated and messy outside of our bubble. It poisoned it all. I didn’t want to bring that to you. You’re so bright and goddamn positive all the time, I would have only held you back.”

“Bullshit,” I said with a humorless laugh, and the word came out softer than I intended. “But we can’t change the past, Theo.” I swallowed, my chest tightening. “It’s probably better left back there in the rubble.” The second I said it, regret twisted in my stomach.

Because that wasn’t entirely true. The past had ruined us in a hundred ways, but it had made us too. Every stolen glance across karting paddocks. Every rivalry interview where we acted like we hated each other while secretly memorizing every word. Every letter tucked into hidden places when we were too young and too stubborn to admit what this thing between us actually was.

His eyes dimmed. That familiar sadness settled into them as his hand dropped away from mine.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Okay.”

“That’s not what I mean.” I shook my head quickly. I reached up automatically, brushing a piece of dark hair away from his eyes. My fingertips lingered for half a second too long, and my breath caught when he leaned into the touch slightly without thinking.

Then I noticed it.

Something faint along the side of his thumb.

At first I thought it was a scar, but⁠—

I grabbed his hand before I could stop myself.

“Theo, wait.”

His brows furrowed as I pulled his hand closer to my face. My heart stopped. There was a tiny black script, just one word, so small it was almost impossible to read. But I knew that handwriting because it was my own.

‘Go.’ was tattooed onto the side of his thumb facing him, the letters slightly messy, copied exactly from one of the old letters I’d written him years ago. My chest caved in.

“Theo…”

His throat bobbed hard. “I told you,” he said quietly. “It’s always been you.”

Everything around me disappeared after that. All I could hear was my own heartbeat thundering in my ears as I stared at his hand still sitting in mine. He tattooed my handwriting onto his skin. One stupid little word from one stupid little letter I barely even remembered writing. But he remembered.

I thought about all the years between us: the anger, the wreckage, the interviews pretending we couldn’t stand each other, him looking at me across garages like he wanted to say something, and me looking away first every single time because it was easier than admitting I still cared.

And through all of it—he carried me with him anyway. Something inside me cracked wide open. Because nobody had ever loved me like this. Not carefully. Not halfway. Theo loved me like it was inevitable, like it had rooted itself inside him years ago and never once loosened its grip.

He watched me nervously now, like he regretted me seeing it, like he thought I might pull away. The realization nearly destroyed me. I lifted my eyes to his slowly. “You tattooed my handwriting on you.”

A tiny shrug, but his voice was rough. “It’s a good reminder.”

My heart physically ached. I tried to conjure up words, any response really, but only one thought rattled around in my brain: Kiss him. The thought hit so suddenly it almost startled me.

Not because it was smart. Not because it would fix everything. Honestly, it would probably make everything infinitely messier. But I was so tired of pretending this thing between us wasn’t alive, so tired of acting like I didn’t feel him everywhere. Trying to stay mad at him felt impossible. It was reckless, utterly and completely reckless, and there was still so much to be said, to talk through, but I didn’t care.

My eyes darted to his lips, imagining what it would be like to just lean in.

I wanted to know what it felt like to stop fighting it. His eyes flicked down to my mouth for the briefest second before he caught himself. That tiny movement made my decision for me. I moved before I could overthink it. One hand still wrapped around his wrist, I leaned forward and kissed him.

Theo froze as if his brain short-circuited. For one terrifying second, I thought maybe I’d imagined all of this. Maybe I’d read him wrong.

Then he kissed me back, and it felt like finally exhaling after years of holding my breath. His hand slid carefully to my jaw like he was afraid I’d disappear if he touched me too fast. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, all restrained emotion and disbelief.

A shaky breath escaped him as he pulled me closer, kissing me harder, years of longing pouring into it so intensely my chest hurt.

25

THEO | PRESENT

It had been a lifetime since my head was this quiet.