Page 21

OMIR

O ’Shea’s laugh echoed in the foggy recesses of my mind, sharp and unfiltered, the way it used to be when we were younger. He was sitting across from me in Pop’s living room with a blunt between his fingers.

“You got life all fucked up, O,” I said, and he shook his head, the smoke curling around his face. “You think life waits for you to figure it out. It doesn’t.”

He frowned, leaning back against the couch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re out here acting like you’ve got all the time in the world to make shit right. You’ve got a son now. It’s time to get your shit together, bro. For real.”

He opened my mouth to speak again, but the smoke thickened, and his figure began to fade.

“O!” I called out, but the only response was the sound of my own alarm blaring in the background.

I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart racing. The room was dim, the late morning sun barely filtering through the curtains. I blinked a few times, trying to steady my breathing, when I noticed Anya sitting up in bed, staring at me.

“Bad dream?” she asked softly, her voice laced with concern.

I rubbed my face and nodded. “Yeah. . . something like that.”

She reached out to touch my arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. “Nah.”

She sighed and moved closer, her hands sliding up my chest. “Babe, everything is going to be alright.”

Her words were sincere, but they didn’t hit the way they should have. Instead, they felt like an echo, distant and hollow. “I know,” I said, forcing a small smile. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. I’ve been pushing you away, and that shit ain’t fair. I’ll make it up to you.”

Anya climbed onto my lap, her warm body pressing against mine as she cupped my face in her hands. “You better,” she said with a teasing smirk before leaning in to kiss me.

Her lips were soft, familiar, but as her kisses deepened and her breathy moans filled the room, my mind drifted to Lennox. Anya tugged at my shirt, trying to pull me closer, but I gently pulled back.

“Not. . . not right now,” I murmured.

Her brows knitted together in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just. . . not in the right headspace. It’s not you, baby. I swear.”

She searched my eyes for a moment before nodding.

I got up and headed to the shower, the hot water pounding against my skin as I tried to clear my head.

But no matter how hard I tried, my thoughts kept circling back to Lennox.

The message we’d exchanged the night before when she gave me her parents’ address.

The fact that I was about to see her for the first time in over a year.

When I stepped out of the shower, Anya was still in bed, scrolling through her phone. “You heading to the club?” she asked, barely glancing up.

“Not right now,” I said, pulling on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. “I’ve got something else to take care of.” She raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further.

As I walked out the door, a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety settled in my chest. I didn’t know what this meeting with Lennox would bring, but one thing was certain: It was time to face the past.

When I pulled up to Lennox’s parents’ house, the first thing I saw was her sitting on the front porch, waiting. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, her head slightly tilted as the breeze tousled her hair. The moment my car came to a stop, her eyes lifted to meet mine.

And just like that, I was stuck.

She was fucking beautiful in an oversized knitted sweater, leggings, and boots, although something was different.

There was a weight in her expression that wasn’t there before, a heaviness that mirrored my own.

Still, she was breathtaking, and for a moment, I couldn’t bring myself to get out of the car.

I just sat there, gripping the steering wheel, trying to steady my pulse.

Finally, I opened the door and stepped out. The crunch of gravel under my Timbs seemed to echo in the stillness of the moment. As I walked toward her, she stood, her body tense but her gaze unwavering.

We didn’t say a word at first. We didn’t need to.

Our eyes locked, and it was like stepping back in time.

The same intensity that had always existed between us was still there, unspoken but undeniable.

I stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, unsure if I should climb them or keep my distance.

She made the decision for me, stepping aside and gesturing for me to sit.

I climbed the steps and sat beside her, close enough to feel her presence but not enough to cross an unspoken boundary. For a while, we just sat in silence, the weight of our losses settling between us. “How are you holding up?” I finally asked, my voice low.

She let out a soft, bitter laugh. “I don’t know if I am. Some days feel normal, and then other days, it hits me out of nowhere. Like today. I came out here to clear my head, but. . .” She trailed off, shaking her head.

I nodded. “I get that. It’s the same for me. It’s like this permanent ache I can’t shake. Some days I’m fine, but then something reminds me of him, and it’s like I’m right back at the beginning.”

She turned her head toward me, her eyes searching mine. “Have they caught the people who did it?”

“Not yet,” I said, my jaw tightening. “The investigation’s still ongoing, even with me turning over the security tapes. I’ve been pressing the detectives, but there’s only so much they can tell me. It’s frustrating as fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. Her hand twitched like she wanted to reach for mine but stopped herself.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.

For a while, we just sat there, lost in our own thoughts, before she spoke again. “How’s work? The club?”

“Considering I took a step back after all this shit, business is still good,” I said, leaning back against the porch railing. “I opened a restaurant not too long ago. It’s good too. How’s everything with you?”

She nodded. “I’ve been the same with work. It’s all I focus on most days. The new office is thriving, and yeah, life is. . . is good. Chicago has been good to me.”

“That’s great, Lennox. You deserve it.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks.” The conversation lulled for a moment before she glanced at me. “So. . . you’re getting married?”

There it was. The question I’d been expecting but dreading. I nodded. “Yeah. Anya and I are tying the knot next month.”

She stared at me, her expression unreadable. “You love her?”

“I do,” I said, the words steady but not as certain as they should’ve been.

Lennox nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her lap. “That’s good. I’m happy for you, Omir.”

I looked at her, and for a moment, I thought she was going to say something else. Her lips parted, but then she pressed them together, shaking her head slightly like she’d decided against it.

“I appreciate it,” I said quietly.

She stood, brushing her hands on her leggings. “It was nice to see you. I mean that. I wish you the best with. . . everything.”

I stood too, unable to ignore the ache in my chest. “You too, Lennox.”

We hugged, and it wasn’t a casual hug. It was deep, lingering, and charged with everything we weren’t saying. I could feel her trembling slightly in my arms, and I tightened my hold, wishing I could take away her pain—and maybe mine too.

When we finally pulled apart, the front door creaked open, and an older woman stepped out. “Lenny, would you like to invite your friend inside?” she asked warmly, her face lighting.

“Omir, Mrs. Anderson.” I greeted her with a polite nod and a handshake. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. You’re staying for lunch, right?” she asked, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“Oh, he’s not staying.” Lennox cut in quickly, her voice a little higher than usual.

“Nonsense,” her mother said, waving her off. “Son, do you know your way around the kitchen?”

Lennox shot me a look, her expression a mix of annoyance and something else I couldn’t quite place. “I do,” I said, surprising even myself. “I have a passion for cooking and good food in general.”

“Well, then, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” Mrs. Anderson beamed and disappeared back inside, leaving Lennox and me standing on the porch.

She crossed her arms, giving me a pointed look. “You didn’t have to say yes.”

I shrugged, a small smirk tugging at my lips. “Your mom’s hard to say no to.”

She huffed but didn’t argue, turning and walking inside. I followed her, wondering how the hell I’d ended up here—and low-key glad I had.