Page 114 of Undertow

I pull her close and bury my face in her hair. The smell of citrus overwhelms me as I hold on. It hurts to fall back into the delusion of happiness. Touching her is life and death at the same time.

“What are we going to do?” she whispers.

I can’t speak for tomorrow, but for now there’s only one thing.

I pull back and draw her lips to mine.

She surrenders with a soft gasp, and I dive in harder. It feels so good to have her again, to taste the sweetness of love instead of pain.

I thread my fingers into her hair, locking her to me as our lips and tongues fight for any remaining shred of hope.

We will end in tragedy. It’s destined—Roman and Julia—but I’ve never lived for the end. I’ve never had a future to chase. My life is the present, and right now, the present is the only thing I want.

Distant pain screams from every part of my body. Each movement of my torn frame is agony and ecstasy, but only one thing owns me in this moment—one woman—and I’m ready to give her everything.

She pulls back with a grimace, and I wince at the blood on her lips.

My blood.

“Julia…” I move to wipe it off, but she beats me to it. Her fingertips gingerly drift over the spot. She stares at her fingers, before her tongue peeks out to run over her lips.

Her gaze flickers back to my face, and the heat drains into sadness, compassion.

She shifts closer again, but instead of a kiss, her palm gently cups my damaged cheek. Her gaze seems to run over every one of my wounds, then down my chest where it lingers on the scar from New Orleans.

“Spend the night with me,” she says softly. “Not for sex. I want all these stories. To have one night that’s real. Let me show you howIinterpret these bloodstains.”

My heart stutters in my chest. I want that. More than anything. But it’s a fantasy as much as everything else.

“You already have,” I say. “Every moment with you has been real, Julia. Every fucking one.”

Her eyes cloud over, and she leans in for a gentle kiss. Her arms slide around me and we hold on for several painful moments.

“Stay with me, Jonah,” she whispers. “Just one night before it all goes to shit tomorrow.”

My lungs constrict. Longing like I’ve never known shudders through me. “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.”

It physically hurts to separate from her, but I don’t have a choice. Despite her words, there’s only one interpretation of this story. One way it ends. It’s taken years, but I’m finally starting to accept the truth.

I scoop the handcuffs off the coffee table and hold them out to her. “Let me get dressed, then we finish this.”

Her expression falls as realization sets in. “No, Jonah. I’m not restraining you. I trust you.”

I shake my head. “It’s not about trust.”

Beneath Julia’s skeptical stare, I push up from the couch and move to my suitcase. After pulling on a pair of shorts and t-shirt, I head toward the front door.

“Where are you going?” she asks, eyeing me.

“To the porch.”

She flinches and watches through the open door as I lower myself to my knees by the railing. After looping the metal through the rungs, I clip one cuff to my wrist.

“A little help?” I call to her.

Her eyes scan me in stunned disbelief.

“Julia, please. There’s only one way this ends.”