Page 86 of Once Upon A Second Chance

I blink, stunned, my hands dropping to my sides. “You told them?”

“I told them I’d choose you a thousand times over—every time.” His voice softens. “And I meant it.”

For a long moment, I just stand there,breathing him in.

The anger that had propped me up these past few days wavers, buckles under the weight of everything he’s giving me now without being asked. I see the way his hands shake, the way his mouth presses into a tight line like he’s bracing for me to slam the door in his face.

And maybe a few days ago, I could have.

But not now.

Not after everything.

I step forward, reach out, and fist my hands into the front of his shirt, pulling him toward me with a force I didn’t know I still had.

His arms wrap around me immediately, strong and steady, like he’s been waiting to hold me again since the second he let me go.

He buries his face against my neck and I feel his breath hitch, feel his whole body sag with relief as I clutch him tighter.

“I’m still mad at you,” I whisper into his shoulder.

“I know,” he says hoarsely. “I’ll earn it back. Every day. I swear.”

I pull back just enough to look himin the eye.

His face is open, wrecked, full of the kind of desperate hope that feels more honest than anything he’s ever said. I reach up, cupping his jaw, my thumb brushing over the stubble there.

“No more running,” I say.

“Never again,” he promises.

I believe him.

God help me, I believe him.

I surge up and kiss him, and he meets me like he’s starving for it, like he’s been holding his breath since the day he left and only now remembers how to breathe.

His hands slide up into my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, and I feel everything in me loosen, unwind, surrender.

This isn’t soft or careful—it’s messy, aching, real. It’s the kind of kiss you give when you have nothing left to lose and everything to fight for.

He backs me into the doorframe, one hand splayed wide over my lower back, the other cradling my jaw like he’s terrified I’ll vanish if he lets go.

I don’t know how long we stay like that—minutes, hours—but when we finally break apart, breathing hard, our foreheads resting together, it feels like something inside me settles for the first time in days.

“I love you,” he whispers.

I close my eyes, let the words soak into my bones. “I love you, too.”

And for the first time, there’s no fear left in it.

Just us.

Exactly where we’re supposed to be.

We don’t rush.

After the door clicks shut behind us, Richard just stands there, arms around me, like he needs a minute to believe this is real.