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“Because things had to go the way they did. For you to be as whole and beautiful and perfect as you are today, those things had to happen. But please, Lana,” he cups my cheeks and drags me to the tips of my toes, “ please let me be a part of your future.”

I lose my battle against pain and choke out a sob I wish desperately I could keep inside.

“I’m not asking to take Colin’s place. I won’t talk shit about him, even if I think he’s a cocksucker who probably can’t fight.”

I laugh and cry, tears streaming onto my cheeks and pooling where his hands touch my skin.

“Can he fight?”

“No.” I step forward, pressing my face to his chest and wrapping my arms around his back. “And I forbid you from even thinking about what you’re thinking about.”

He chuckles. “You can’t read my mind.”

“Yes.” I lean back and search his eyes. “I can.”

“We were always supposed to be together. Don’t you get it?

Love and War. We are love and war, and you know damn well we’d fight to the death to save those we love.

L and W. Lana and Watkins. You didn’t change your name when you married because you knew if you weren’t a Page, you were a Watkins.

You left, Alana, but you came back to me. ”

I take his wrists in my hands, my breath coming out on a shuddering exhale. Because even if he says he accepts the past, it doesn’t mean he actually does.

He couldn’t.

I know him better than he knows himself.

“We’ve already lost ten years,” he groans. “And I can still see the no in your eyes. But why won’t you just try?” He crushes a demanding kiss against my lips. “Why can’t we just try?”

“Mom?” Franky steps onto the porch with the bleating alarm of my phone playing in the air. “It’s time to go.”

I startle back and hit the wall, fresh tears spilling onto my cheeks. I reach up and swipe my face clear. Again . So damn often when it comes to this man.

“Lana—”

“I have to go.” I smooth his shirt down, flattening the wrinkle that sits over his heart. Then I wipe my eyes again and take a step away. Then another. “Thank you for dinner. And for dessert.”

He grabs my wrist, but his grip is gentle. It’s a request, not a demand. And when I shake my arm free, he releases me again.

“Thank you for a lovely night. And for playing a proper game of chess, so my son isn’t forced to hate you. He wants to beat you fairly. Not because you messed up the board.”

“Mom?”

“I’m coming, honey.” I wipe my nose and tidy my hair, and stealing one last glance back at the man whose eyes turn just a little darker, a little less free every time I walk away, I try to offer him a small smile. A shitty consolation prize, really. “I promise not to hurt your future hoe.”

He lays his broad hand over his pounding heart.

It aches, I know.

“I promise to pretend to be happy for you. And maybe, eventually, I’ll actually mean it. By then, you’ll be happier, too, and that’s all I ever wanted for you.”

“Say the words.” His lips tremble. “Lie to me.”

I stop, my knees shaking and my heart stalling.

Then, drawing a long breath until it fills my chest and leaves my lungs in pain, I destroy all the progress I’ve made and charge back in his direction, crashing against his powerful body and squeezing him in a hug like he’s just a boy again, and I’m just a girl.

He needs confirmation that he matters. That he’s worthy.

He needs to be told he’s loved. And dammit, I do .

“I love you, Tommy. I will always love you.”

He crushes me in his arms, kissing my hair and breathing me in until I know he’s hoarding what he can. Like he knows this is goodbye.

I’ll still be around tomorrow, and so will he. We won’t have changed, really. But we need to try.

I need to try.

“I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you.” I kiss his chest, right where he has my ink embedded in his skin. The date we met, way back in elementary school. It was chaotic back then, too. Loud and messy. We argued more than we talked, and we made hating each other an art form.

But there was no one I would have protected more. And there wasn’t a single moment in history I doubted his devotion to me.

“This will take time.” I sniffle. “We have to learn how to walk again. To exist. We have to learn how to be , but without being in love.”

“Not sure I’m gonna be able to do it.” Swallowing, he leans back and slides his hands to my cheeks. “You keep putting these rules between us, expecting me to abide by them. But I don’t wanna.”

“A kid would eat chocolate cake for every meal if they could. Sometimes, rules are in place for a reason.”

“You’re gonna mother me now?” He attempts a smile, ignoring the fact that it shudders. “Can’t say I’ve ever had a mommy kink, but if that’s the game you wanna play, then I suppose I could let you pour my milk and tuck me into bed each night.”

“You’re a freak.” I tap his stomach and laugh when his breath comes out in a sweet chuckle. “If mothering you is what has to happen to ensure your best future, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“Mom?! The timer went off!”

“Oh, my gosh. I’m coming, honey.” I swipe my cheeks and search Tommy’s beautiful hazel eyes in the waning light. Has he even noticed yet that my son’s are the same ? “Maybe I’ll see you at the bookstore’s grand reopening in a few days.”

He scoffs. “I’ll come find you tomorrow. You forget, I want chocolate cake.”

“Such a pain.” I wave him off and walk around the side of the house, drawing Franky’s gaze when I step into view. He waits by the door, scowling his displeasure. “Sorry, honey. I was talking to Tommy, and he wouldn’t stop yammering.”

Tommy snickers, the soft sound tickling the back of my neck. Because, of course, he’s nearby. How could I expect any different?

“Have you got everything you need? Got your chessboard?”

“Yep. Let’s go.” Franky charges down the porch steps and grabs my hand. “It’s nearly eight.”

I try not to notice Tommy’s playful eyes as my son marches me to the car, and I say nothing of Chris’ smug observation from the door, his arms folded and one foot kicked over the other.

I don’t even acknowledge Tommy’s wink when I climb into the driver’s seat, and I sure as hell say nothing when he takes out his phone and taps away at the screen, only for mine to bleat with a text message a moment later.

I try not to read it; I swear.

But it’s right there on my lock screen.

Chocolate cake for my birthday? Special occasions deserve cake. Fair’s fair, right?

“Mom…” Franky settles in the back and fixes his seatbelt. “It’s getting late.”

“Yep.” I place my phone face down on the passenger seat, then I turn the key in the ignition and start my car.

It doesn’t seem to matter how desperately I try to create boundaries between me and Tommy. It doesn’t matter that I want to set him free.

He never had much sense of self-preservation, even when we were young, and the fact I spent ten years on the other side of the country, cutting all contact and raising a baby with another man, still ended with us here.

We haven’t moved on. We didn’t fall out of love.

He deserves so much better.

“Let’s go home, honey.”

I pull into my mom’s driveway, passing Whacky II, that bastard rooster who chases our tires and risks being run straight over, and coming to a stop by the shed amongst a plume of dry dust, I cut the engine and simply sit.

Wait.

Cicadas scream from the trees, and the click-click-click of my car’s warm motor plays through the almost-darkness. But it’s Franky’s clearing throat, I notice most of all.

It’s not a regular throat clearing that most people do when they have a tickle to get rid of. It’s a nervous tic. A slight squeak that tells me my baby is anxious.

“We made it home right on time, honey.” I check my phone screen and the 8:01 plastered over my son’s beautiful face. A memory. A laugh.

Well… Almost right on time.

“Want to watch The Simpsons after we brush our teeth?” I turn in my seat, leaning on my shoulder and resting my chin on the top of my chair. “Did you eat enough at Tommy’s, or are you still hungry?”

He rubs his chess board, sliding the pad of his thumb over the corner with a rhythmic consistency.

“There’s been a lot of change lately, huh?

” I reach around and place my hand on the seat beside his leg.

I don’t touch. I don’t take. But I breathe a sigh of relief when he sets his palm on top.

“Moving. Meeting all these new people. Exploring a new town. You’re even going to the gym. That’s a lot.”

“Are you going to marry Tommy?”

My breath comes out on a nervous shudder that leaves my stomach empty just in time for the dread to take its place.

“Um… No, honey. I’m not.”

“But you want to?”

God… how do you explain these things to a child without making everything so much worse?

“It’s really complicated.”

“Explain it to me.” He brings his eyes up, pinning me with such maturity, such grown-up intensity, I know I could never have achieved the same at his age.

“Before we came to Plainview, you never used to lie to me at all. But now you do.” He drags his glasses off, clearing every smudged barrier that sits between us.

“It hurts my feelings. You said coming to Plainview was the right thing to do, but it doesn’t feel right when in New York, you always told the truth, and you never shouted. Here, you lie, and you cry a lot.”

Shit.

Fuck.

Goddammit.

Save me, please.

“Explain it to me,” he presses. “And don’t lie.”

“Tommy was someone who used to be very special to me.” I lay my cheek against my chair and nibble on my lips.

The way my pulse thunders in my throat and ears, I swear, must be audible to my son and every farm animal within a hundred-mile radius.

“For my whole life, before I left, Tommy was the person I thought I would marry. He was my whole world back then when I thought love wasn’t complicated and everything would work out just because we said it would. ”

“But it didn’t work out? And then you moved to New York and had me?”

“Yes.”