Page 17 of Begin Again

I grin, my hands settling on her waist. “I think I’m gonna need a lot more inspiration.”

She smiles up at me. “Good thing I’m pretty inspiring.”

I chuckle, pressing one last lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth before reluctantly stepping back. “As much as I’d love to keep failing at painting next to you all night, I should probably get you home.”

She arches her brow. “Afraid I’ll beat you at another Bob Ross masterpiece?”

I smirk. “Nah, that was a lost cause from the start. But I do know you have a very needy, very dramatic dog waiting for you.”

Selene sighs, but there’s no real disappointment in it. “You make a good point. Valkyrie will riot if I stay out too late.”

I help her gather her things, and after one last amused glance at my not-mountain painting, we make our way back to my truck. The drive is quiet and comfortable—her hand resting on her lap, mine gripping the wheel, both of us stealing glances when we think the other isn’t looking.

When I pull up in front of her place, I hop out first, walking around to open her door. She steps out, looking up at me with an unreadable expression.

“I had fun tonight,” she says softly.

“So did I.”

She hesitates, then presses up onto her toes, placing one last, lingering kiss on my lips. “See you soon, Hot Shot.”

I watch as she heads inside, a stupid grin stuck on my face. And as I drive away, I know one thing for sure—this was only the beginning.

6

Theo

It doesn’t matter how many days pass, I keep thinking back to Selene. That was the best date I have ever been on.

Hands down.

Even now the memory of Selene’s laugh and the warmth of her lips on mine, the way she looked at me like she saw me—it lingers, settling into my bones.

I wish we hadn’t been drinking. Not because I regret anything, but because I would’ve asked her to stay. Not just for the night—really stay. More than kissing, more than the tension humming between us. I wanted to fall asleep with her tangled up in my sheets, wake up to her stealing my coffee, and watch the sunrise with her wrapped up in one of my hoodies.

But I’d played it safe. I know I had done the right thing, driving her home instead of making excuses to keep her in my arms. Now I have to sit with the ache of it, the way I can still feel her against me, the way I know one taste wasn’t enough.

I needed to talk to Mo about it.

She has always been the first person I tell everything to, the one who knew me better than anyone. But she’s been flaking on me for days now—dodging my calls, bailing on plans, always coming up with some half-assed excuse. I want to tell her about Selene, about how good it felt to finally be with someone who made me feel like I didn’t have to try so hard. But every time I reached out, an excuse or obstacle got in the way.

And then there was Bennett.

I’d driven past Mo’s house twice this week and both times, his motorcycle was parked outside. He’d been lingering. Hanging around too much. And I wasn’t stupid—I knew what that usually meant.

Mo was secretly hooking up with him.

And honestly? I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

I mean, I want her to be happy. But Bennett? He isn’tbad, but he isn’t exactly an open book either. He is new to town and isn’t even planning on staying for longer than getting his article, or whatever written. Mo has been through enough—she doesn’t need some complicated, broody situation making her life harder.

And sneaking around? That’s what bothers me most. Why hide it? Why not justtellme?

I don’t like secrets.

So when my phone buzzes and I see Mo’s name pop up, I brace myself for whatever excuse she’s about to throw my way.

Mo:I’m on my way over, also bringing company, we need to talk.