Page 77 of Our Darkest Summer

But it didn’t.

Because knowing thewhydidn’t erasehowit felt.

I wanted to tell him that. I wanted to tell him that every time he looked right through me it made me feel like I was losing him all over again. That I had spent months trying to convince myself he never mattered to me in the first place. That I hated him.

But I didn’t.

Because, somehow, sitting here with him, his warmth at my back it didn’t feel like the past anymore.

It felt likenow. Again.

“You should’ve told me,” I whispered, my voice raspy.

“I should’ve,” he nodded, his fingers brushing against mine, “but I couldn’t have stayed away then… if I knew you didn’t hate me.”

I turned slightly in his hold, enough to see his face. His dark eyes were watching me, unguarded. I’d forgotten how safe it felt. Like I wasn’t alone.

“And what changed?”

His hand slid up to my jaw, his thumb tracing my cheek.

“It’s much harder to keep my distance when you are so close. So here.” A beat of silence stretched between us, thick and charged.

His lips were so close to mine that all I had to do was lean in.

But I didn’t. And neither did he. Instead, he let out a quiet breath and shifted back, breaking the moment.

I wet my lips. “I brought a postcard for my dad.” I closed my eyes as soon as the confession left me. When I opened them, Thomas’ head was cocked to the side.

“I thought you didn’t send him the ones before either.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t. I just—I thought.”What did I think?“I don’t know. It was an impulse idea.”

He twisted a thread of my hair around his finger. “Did you ever think of sending someone else one? Maybe it would break you out of the habit.”

I picked at my socks. I never thought about that before.

The sky stretched infinitely above us, but all I could feel was this moment. The warmth of his body against mine, the weight of his arms around me. This time, when the silence stretched between us, it wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t painful. It just… was.

“Since we’re being honest,” I said, shifting slightly in his hold, “I think you get another point.”

His brow arched. “For what?”

“For our game. Thewhose-parent-is-worsecompetition,” I clarified.

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “For getting blackmailed into cutting you off?”

I nodded. “It’s a strong move. Joshua really outdid himself.”

He hummed. “I guess I’ll take it.”

I let my head tip back against his shoulder, closing my eyes and taking it all in.

Maybe I was never really angry with him. Maybe I still was. But for now, we were a team again, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Thomas