Chapter 145: Hundred and Forty Five

The house was still, every creak loud in the silence of the night. Upstairs, Noah was out cold, flat on his stomach, arms spread like a starfish, dinosaur toy wedged under his chin. I should have been curling up myself, letting exhaustion take me. Instead, I lingered in the doorway of the room, staring at the ceiling, restless in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

In the silence, I could hear someone walking. I felt the door open. Declan didn’t knock. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his hair slightly mussed from his hands, his shirt untucked, long over his sweatpants.

“Come on,” he whispered.

I blinked at him. “Come on where?”

His mouth quirked into that half-smile that always told me he was up to something. “Down to the lake. Like old times.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You want to sneak out and do what?”

“We’re going skinny dipping,” he said, straight-faced.

I should have told him no. I should have reminded him I was someone’s mother, that I didn’t belong in these stupid adventures anymore. But instead, my sweater was in my hand before I

even realized what I was doing, and I followed him quietly down the stairs.

The night air made me shiver as soon as it hit me. It was cool, damp, smelling of the grass, and the woods, and sharp freshness of lake water. The moon was low, casting a silver glow across the rippling surface. Crickets hummed, the boards of the dock groaned under our feet. It was exactly the same, and yet entirely different.

Declan sat at the edge, rolling his pant legs up, dipping his feet into the water like it was nothing. I hesitated before sitting beside him, the wood cool against my thighs, the lake water

shocking against my toes. I shivered as it touched my skin.

He leaned back on his hands, eyes on the sky, then on me, back to the sky again. “God, I can’t believe I only brought you here once. Every time I have come back since, I have thought of you.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “As soon as I stepped inside, all of that came rushing back in.”

“I saw,” he teased. “Trying to be quiet and nonchalant as you toured the house. I knew you were remembering, too.”

“I was quiet,” I protested.

He smiled. “God, my mom was so horrible to you.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “We thought we were invincible back then.”

“We were reckless,” he corrected, though his tone was fond. “Mad. And stupidly in love.”

The words hit me in the chest, sharp and sweet. My throat went tight.

“I never regretted any of it,” I said softly, surprising even myself with the honesty. “Not a single second. Even when it hurt. Long after I left. I never regretted you.”

He turned his head slowly, his gaze fixing on me with that intensity that always made me feel stripped bare. “I never stopped regretting losing you.”

For a long moment we just sat there, breathing the same air, our feet dangling in the same water. Our fingers were slightly touching, both our hands close on the deck.

I looked at him. Staring up at the sky, his eyes slightly twinkling. I felt his touch on me, the electric intensity of his skin on mine. I felt the words rush out of me, “I’m terrified, Declan. Terrified of this not working. Terrified of breaking Noah if we, if I, mess it up. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be enough for everyone.”

His hand brushed over mine on the dock, tentative, then steady as his fingers laced with mine. Warm, grounding.

“You don’t have to be enough for everyone,” he murmured. “You just have to be you. For him. For me.”

Tears stung my eyes, blurring the moonlit water.

“We already lost years,” he went on, voice low but fierce. “I’m not losing you again. I’ll wait. I’ll be patient. I’ll take whatever you can give me. But I won’t let you go. Not this time.”

The dam inside me broke. My defenses collapsed like sand. I leaned toward him, and he met me halfway.

The kiss was soft, deliberate, unhurried. Not desperate, not stolen, but reverent. His hand came up to touch my face lightly, thumb sweeping away the tears that slipped down my cheeks.

My fingers clutched at his shirt, needing him closer, needing the weight of his body against mine.

When we parted, I was breathless, trembling, but not from fear.

“I love you,” I whispered, the words spilling out like a confession, like a prayer. He was my God and I was his devotee.

His forehead pressed against mine, his breath shaky. “I love you. God, I love you. I never stopped.”

We didn’t make it back upstairs. Declan tugged me gently toward the house, his hand warm around mine, his eyes never leaving mine as though afraid I’d vanish.

In the living room, he crouched by the hearth, striking a match. The fire caught, flames enveloping the dry logs, casting a golden glow across the room. The light painted him in soft yellow,

shadows flickering along his jaw, his eyes so blue in the glow.

We stood facing each other, the fire between us, the weight of years pressing in. Then I stepped forward, and so did he.

His hands slid slowly over my shoulders, down my arms, as though relearning me by touch. My sweater slipped from my frame, forgotten on the rug. My own hands traced the line of his chest, the familiar slope of his shoulders, the place where his heart thudded steady and strong.

We kissed again, deeper now, still tender but aching, our bodies moving with a rhythm we hadn’t forgotten, only buried. Every touch was deliberate, thoughtful. Every time we did this, felt like the first time.

When he laid me down before the fire, his lips tracing the line of my throat, it wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t rushed. It was worship. All of his, all of my longing, regret, and love poured into every kiss, every caress.

I whispered his name like it was the only word I knew. He murmured mine back like it was a vow.

Afterward, we lay tangled on the rug, the fire still crackling softly, his arms wrapped firmly around me. My head rested against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart.

He smoothed my hair back, his voice rough but certain. “Never again. I’m never letting you go again.”

I tilted my head up, tears spilling fresh even as I smiled. “Then don’t. Don’t ever let me go.”

His lips brushed mine again, softer this time, sealing it. “Never.”

We lay like that for what felt like hours, the firelight flickering, our breathing syncing, his body wrapping around mine like a warm blanket. For the first time in years, I wasn’t afraid of the

future.

Not anymore.