Page 41 of His Last Shot

Coughing nervously and trying to regain my composure, I place my hands on my hips.

“You saw the pictures. Nothing escapes his notice.” I lift my shirt.

“You saw my body.” I point to my abdomen.

“This was a warning, Rachel. We know what he is capable of. He told me that I was allowed to come and say goodbye to you tonight. Do you honestly think he won’t be watching our every move after tonight to make sure we aren’t together?

I mean, forget about you, me, Scott, and Laura.

We are adults and have lived our lives. Fulfilling lives.

But Mallory and Jake? What if, to prove his point, he takes his vengeance out on them? ”

The question hangs in the air, its weight forcing me to avoid her stare. “Are you truly willing to take that risk? Because I’m not.”

Minutes tick by, each second sharpening the details of our new reality becoming clear. With a twist of my body, I ask, my voice a little unsure. “Are you?” The truth lives in that question. The answer circles us. I watch as Rachel stands, sobs. She squeezes her eyes shut … and she shakes her head.

My body tenses, a searing heat blooming in my chest as if I’m holding a live grenade. And Dexter pulled the pin.

“AAAAHHH!” The scream is primal, full of sadness, fear, and anger.

Storming over to the bar stools, I pick one up and chuck it, straining my already beaten body.

Pain zips straight to my core. Rachel’s hands shoot to her mouth as she yelps out.

Leather and metal soar through the air, landing on the floor with a thud, then skids to a stop next to one of the pool tables.

We stand on either side of the dance floor, Rachel’s sobs and my heavy breathing the only sound in this bar.

I scrub a hand down my face and motion for her to come to me.

She runs over, and I grab her by the back of the head, pulling her to me.

We collide in a hug, holding, squeezing, crying.

At this moment—our last—she is warm, real, and mine.

I focus on her. The way her hair is like silk in my fingers.

Her breath seeping into my soul as she cries.

How her body molds to mine, perfectly, snapping into place like a puzzle piece.

We always fit.

I won’t let my mind go beyond the right now, to what I hold dear. Contemplating a future without her is like a betrayal to my heart and soul. It stings, bites, and chaffs in places I didn’t even know it could.

We fuse our foreheads together, holding still. “Rachel—”

“No, no.” She cants her head left and right, as if this is the most painful thing in the world. “Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.”

“As much as I love you, I have to let you go. ”

Her eyes snap shut. “I know. I hate this … but I know,” seconds pass, minutes, an eternity. “I thought we would be together forever.”

So did I.

“Sometimes forever can be shorter than we want it to be.”

The vast emptiness of the bar amplifies her cries, her sobs a raw, visceral sound that cuts through the quiet as I hold her.

Dexter’s.

The bar I love to hate. The bar that brought me her. The bar that’s taking her .

She tears her head away from my chest, and her big brown eyes that I love so much meet mine, red, swollen, bloodshot.

Empty.

God, I’m going to miss those eyes.

“Are you going to tell Scott and Laura?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know what I’m—”

“Blame me,” she blurts out.

“What? No Rachel, I can’t do that.” No way. I won’t.

She nods while swiping a tear away from the corner of my eye with her thumb. “Yes, you can. Tell them I worried too much about the age difference and that I felt our relationship was moving too fast. It’s believable since those were my hang-ups in the beginning.”

I say nothing, mulling it over.

“It has to be this way. Scott can’t know.”

My gut reactions is … no.

But she’s right. If I told Scott that Dexter threatened his family, well, I don’t want to think about what his reaction would be. One thing I know … his actions would probably land him in a lot of trouble. Life-altering trouble. And I can’t do that to him or his family.

I’ve always been completely open and honest with Scott, hiding nothing.

Except now.

Plus, he knows me. He knows my tells. I am going to have to be very convincing for him to believe this lie. But I’ll do it. For her .

“Okay,” I agree. Even though I don’t want to. Her shoulders sag in relief.

I glance at my watch, and the time, 11:50, is glaring at me, taunting me. Because that means I only have ten minutes left with her. My heart drops because all I want is to curl up into this moment. Live it. Breathe it.

Forever.

But I can’t.

Palming the back of her head, I pull her in. I kiss her. Hard. While also tugging her to me, deepening our hold.

We break apart, and my lips wobble, trying to speak. “One last dance?”

She nods as I sweep my thumb over her bottom lip. “Okay.” Releasing her arms from my body, she makes her way to the jukebox.

Our hands still intertwined yet recoiling with each step. Neither of us wanting to let go.

We reach out, our fingertips grazing until the very last moment.

She presses in some buttons, and Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now” fills the air. I extend my palm out and open, and she takes it. With a playful spin, a light chuckle escapes her lips, a sound as sweet as summer berries, lightening the heavy mood and moment.

This song is one of Rachel’s favorites. We have listened to Joni on repeat when we would close the bar. Something else that will soon be a distant memory. The song is five minutes and forty-five seconds long, which is the remaining time I have left with my love.

And I plan on savoring every single millisecond I have her in my arms.

I wove my fingers through hers, then nestle our joined hands close to my chest. My other hand presses gently onto her lower back, tugging her to me until her curves melt into me.

She places her head on my chest, and our feet sway to the music.

No words are spoken. There’s no point. All either of us wants is to bask in this moment.

Our entire relationship plays on a loop in my mind.

The first time I saw her tending bar. How we spent that night under the stars and kissed for the first time.

Our first real kiss in her house after I washed her hair.

When I took her to register for nursing school.

How, after every tournament win, she would run into my arms, making me feel like the most important man in the whole world.

I would die for this woman. Walk through fire for her. My life means nothing without her in it.

But both of us know what we need to do. To ensure my family’s safety, we willingly make this sacrifice, no matter the cost.

And the cost is too much. Too expensive. It’s bankrupting my soul.

Her tears, hot and salty, soak through my shirt as soft, heartbroken sobs never-ending.

Overcome with emotion, a single tear rips from my eye, slides down my cheek, and lands in her soft brown hair.

The rest of the world falls away as we plunge ourselves into this last moment together.

She hooks her arm over my shoulder, and I shiver as her fingers graze the nape of my neck.

The power of her touch.

I don’t know how to live without it.

Five minutes and forty-five seconds comes and goes way too fast because, before we know it, the last note fades, leaving nothing in its wake. Neither of us lets go. Our feet stop moving, and we stand holding each other.

“Rachel,” I whisper. “I should probably go.”

She pulls away from my chest and lifts her eyes to meet mine.

The depth of emotion crashes over me like a tsunami, pulling me under.

We walk hand in hand to the door slowly, and within seconds we are standing at the entrance.

I take her face in my hands and lean in.

Our lips brush as they did that first night in my truck.

The memory pinches in my chest as the kiss deepens with a breathless urgency, perfectly matching the intensity of the moment.

We break apart, both of us panting, our chests heaving and our hearts pounding.

“I love you. So much.” Her declaration? Breathy and sad.

“I love you too.”

My hand reaches for the door handle, ready to leave. “Promise me something.” Her words burst forth, pleading as her grip shoots out to stop mine.

“Anything.”

The pained look in her eye tells me I will not like this .

“If happiness knocks on your door,” she says, swallowing hard as she composes herself, “if a new relationship comes knocking, promise me you’ll answer.”

I gulp. Hard. She grabs my face with her hands. “Listen to me,” she pleads.

We stare.

“Who knows how long we will be apart. You deserve love and happiness, Johnny. So if it comes, take it. I would understand.”

And she would. Somehow, some way, she would find out, and it may hurt, but she would be happy for me. Because that’s who she is. The possibility, though?

Impossible.

“I can’t promise that,” I answer. Confusion flickers in her eyes, replacing the sadness.

I continue. “I’ve already answered it. And you were on the other side.

My last shot at love.” Taking her hand in mine, I bring it to my mouth, planting a soft kiss on her palm before laying it against my chest. My heart thump-thump-thumps against her hand.

She smiles sadly. “You are right here, Rachel. But I need you to make me a promise.”

“Anything.”

Her hand remains on my chest, a comforting weight I don’t want to let go of. “Remember us always lying under the stars. Remember when it was just us and the universe. Let that memory take hold, and don’t let it go. Let it propel you forward as you do the big and hard things. Promise me.”

“I promise. It’s only us and the stars.” One last time, I lean forward, and our lips connect. It’s soft, sweet, and slow.

It’s goodbye.

I walk out into the night with Rachel’s sobs trailing behind me, and the door shuts.

Before I get into the truck, I take in this bar one last time. A bar that led me to Rachel, and a bar that ultimately became my ruin.

Suddenly, the door cracks open slightly, a sliver of light illuminating the darkness. Rachel peers out, gives me a sad grin, then recedes back into Dexter’s.

We haven’t shut the door completely on us.

Not yet.