Page 106 of Chain Reaction

“She had to know what she was getting herself into when she made that request to you.”

“I think she did. But I also don’t think she regretted it. When you’re faced with death, sometimes you behave in ways you don’t think you will.”

“Is that what we did? Is that what we’re doing?” Raven licked her lips. “Have all of these life-threatening situations made us feel things we wouldn’t have otherwise?”

Jake stepped closer, emotion pooling in his gaze. “I don’t think so. We’ve had a lot of years to think this through.”

“Yes, we have.” A soft grin slowly stretched across her lips. “I don’t want to walk away from this without . . .”

“Without what?” Jake’s voice caught as if he couldn’t breathe.

“Without knowing if we can make things work between us.”

He let out a long breath. “You don’t know how happy that makes me.”

Raven’s heart thundered in her chest as Jake’s words hung in the air between them. Ten years of hard feelings dissolved like morning mist under the warmth of truth.

Her fingers trembled as she reached up to touch his face, tracing the new lines at the corners of his eyes, evidence of the years that had been stolen from them.

“All this time,” she whispered, her voice catching on the words.

Jake’s hand covered hers, pressing her palm against his cheek as if to convince himself she was real. When he leaned down, Raven met him halfway.

His lips met hers, achingly gentle at first. The kiss felt like a question asked and answered in the same breath.

Then something broke loose inside her—a dam of emotion held back for too long.

Raven’s arms wound around his neck as the kiss deepened, tasting of promises and second chances. Jake pulled her closer, one hand splayed across the small of her back and the other cradling her head.

They parted only when breathing became necessary. Yet their foreheads still touched as if they were both unwilling to create even that small distance between them.

Raven felt the rapid rise and fall of Jake’s chest against hers, his heartbeat matching her own frantic rhythm. The familiar scent of him—sandalwood and citrus—flooded her senses, bringing back a thousand memories she’d tried and failed to bury.

His eyes, that impossible shade of green she’d never found replicated in nature, searched hers with a vulnerability that made her throat tight.

“Ten years,” he murmured, his thumb brushing across her lower lip as if memorizing its shape. “I’m not wasting another minute.”

Nothing made her happier than hearing those words.

Maybe—just maybe—their crazy journey had always been for them to reconnect at this very moment. Maybe they’d grown into the people they were meant to be in their years apart.

And maybe this was the second chance they’d both been praying for.

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