Page 14

Our eyes met, the air sizzled heavily between us, and I felt myself leaning forward, ready to cup her chin and kiss her, but she turned away. And I let her.

"We should probably get back," Ella suggested.

As much as I wanted to stay here and talk more with her, I knew she was right.

This was a good step forward in our relationship, but that's all it was.

There was still a canyon between us, filled with old memories and pain we needed to navigate.

Her more than me. I got that. So with a sigh, I followed her lead, and we put the empty dishes back into the basket. I shook out the blanket and folded it.

"This was nice," I said. "Thank you."

Her smile was almost shy—so not like the go-getter Ella I had known so long ago. Not even like the business Ella I was getting to know now. It was sweet and heartfelt, and it did things to my insides I didn’t know I still had the capacity to feel.

It also made me feel like an ass. Like a huge, steaming, unforgivable ass.

I had broken this woman’s heart. Torn it right out, stomped on it, and left it bleeding at the foot of a hospital bed.

For the first time, the full reality of that landed.

Not the abstract guilt I’d carried around like background noise.

No—this was sharp, deep, and consuming. If someone else had done to her what I’d done? I’d beat the living shit out of them.

Thorne stirred deep in my chest, low and growling. There it is. Guilt. Shame. Long overdue, genius. You broke our mate, and now you’re surprised she flinches when you get too close?

She flinched , I admitted, the unspoken words burning in my throat.

Damn right she did, Thorne snapped . You earned it. Don’t act shocked now, just because you want her back.

I clenched my jaw as I folded the blanket, trying to ignore the way my hands trembled just slightly.

She used to lean into us , Thorne went on, his voice quiet now. Almost mournful. Remember? She’d tuck under your chin like she belonged there. She did belong there. You threw that away.

I know.

Fix it.

I’m trying.

Ella looked back at me then, catching me mid-thought. Her brows lifted like she could tell I was a million miles away.

“Need help with that?” she asked, nodding at the basket.

“No,” I said quickly. “I got it.”

She nodded, brushing her fingers on her jeans, then started toward the trail.

I fell into step beside her. We didn’t talk much on the walk back.

But it wasn’t the uncomfortable kind of silence.

It was… thoughtful. Measured. The kind of quiet that said we were both working through the weight of what had just passed between us.

When we reached the truck, I opened the door for her like always. She paused, looked up at me like she wanted to say something—but didn’t. Just slid into the seat with a little exhale.

“Thank you,” she said softly, after I got in and started the truck.

“For what?”

“For not pushing.”

I looked over at her. “You’re worth the wait.”

Thorne grumbled. Oh, now you decide to say something right. Maybe tomorrow you can grow a spine and actually ask for a second picnic before we die of old age.

She blinked fast, and I watched her throat as she swallowed before she turned her head away. Was she crying? I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I worried I'd overstep the fragile bridge we were building and fall down into the canyon between us.

After a while, I said. "This was nice."

Her head turned toward me, and I was glad not to find any tears in her eyes. "Yes, it was. So you liked the food?"

"Liked?" I forced a laugh to get back to our easy conversation style from earlier, "I freaking loved it."

"Patrick?"

"Yes."

"We're grown ups now; you can say the word fuck ."

I laughed again, and this one wasn't forced at all. Ella had always had the ability to make me laugh.

"Alright. I fucking loved your food."

This time, there were no barriers in her smile; it was all Ella, open, wide, and honest. And God, did I want to kiss her. I would have given everything to pull her against me and devour her mouth, to feel her body pressed against mine again.

You will , I promised myself. Soon . You will make this right .

Soon after, I pulled into the gravel parking lot in front of Smoke & Ember , where her car was still parked.

She unbuckled her seatbelt, and I raced around the truck to open the door for her.

That was when Thorne kicked me. Not metaphorically.

Not gently. A full mental shove like a freight train, all teeth and demand.

Say it.

What ?

Say it. Ask her again. I liked her food. I want more. And I want her to look at us like that again. Like we’re hers.

You’re impossible, I shot at him.

So are you. Ask the damn question.

I opened the door and cleared my throat, feeling like a teenager again. “Ella?”

She paused, half-turned toward me, one foot midway out of the truck. “Yeah?”

“I know I said I’d wait… and I meant it. But I want to say it again. Just once. So it’s out there.”

I could see her guard returning, so I hurried and said, “Will you have dinner with me? Not for the restaurant. Not for feedback. Just… us.”

With bated breath, I watched the turmoil in her eyes. Say yes, say yes, say yes, my mind repeated like a prayer, as if my silent cheering would sway her mind. She set her chin, and I prepared myself for a rejection. “Yes, I would like that.”

I hid the deep breath I was taking and let out slowly, while Thorne let out a satisfied rumble that echoed through my chest like a promise.

Finally.

"Yes?" I checked.

She smiled, "Yes. Pick me up tomorrow night at six."

I put the picnic basket into the trunk of her car, unable to believe she was actually giving me another chance.

"And Patrick," she called while I held her door open for her.

"Yes?" I looked up, still grinning like a man who’d just been handed oxygen after ten years underwater.

She slid into the driver’s seat, met my eyes, and added, “This dinner? It better be damn good. Redemption-grade good.”

I chuckled. “I’ll bring appetizers and groveling.”

Her smile widened. “Don’t forget dessert. I hold grudges, but I’m also highly susceptible to chocolate.”

She shut the door before I could respond, leaving me outside the car—stunned, hopeful, and more determined than ever not to screw this up.

Thorne muttered, Wear the shirt that makes our arms look big.

I’m not wearing that shirt.

Wear. The. Shirt .