Page 34 of The Lies Of Omission (Without Limits #3)

The night we spent tangled and sweat-slicked between the sheets, hearts exposed and wide open. When we stayed up until sunrise, telling each other things we’d never told anyone else. Building something sacred out of words and stolen time.

I gave him everything. Every cracked, imperfect, jagged piece of me—laid them at his feet and prayed he wouldn’t step on them. And he didn’t. Not then. He held them like they mattered. Like I mattered.

So I believed him. Believed in us. Even though it scared the shit out of me. Even though every survival instinct in my body screamed at me to run. But I didn’t.

I stayed .

I chose him .

And now all I had was the image of him beside her—fucking Rosalie Vanderbilt—the kind of girl who looked like royalty. All perfect smiles, etiquette and born with a golden spoon in her mouth. She looked like someone you’d hold in the light. Someone you’d love without shame.

Not like me. Not like the secret kept in the dark, the hidden thing you only wanted when no one was watching.

He looked so polished beside her. So fucking put together . And I was just there. The ghost. The mistake. The inconvenience . A part of me died in that moment.

The part that still had hope.

Because deep down—I’d always hoped someone would choose me. Not just when it was easy. Not just in private. But when it mattered. And instead, Theo looked at her like she was the answer to a question he had never asked me.

It fucking cut. It cut deeper than I knew I could bleed. Like it had pried open a barely healed wound I’d been nursing my whole life.

I’d been forgotten before. My parents barely remembered I existed when I wasn’t directly in front of them.

Elizabeth was the golden girl of Hollywood.

The star. And me? I was her burden. Her mistake.

A PR liability. A wild, unstable storm they didn’t know how to contain.

They threw nannies at me like sandbags against a flood, hoping I’d settle down and shut up long enough to smile for a family photo.

Seen—only when I performed and fit the part of their brand. Never loved. Never chosen. Never wanted.

I’d told myself for years that I didn’t need anyone. That I’d build a life out of spite. That I’d be stronger than all the things that tried to ruin me. But the truth?

I’d always just wanted someone to choose me. To see me. To say, “I want you, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.” To pick me out of a crowd and not flinch when they saw everything broken inside of me.

But instead, here I was. Sitting on a cold rock, wind howling through my bones, staring at a sky too beautiful for a night this painful.

And all I could think was—just once. Just fucking once. I wish someone would choose me.

And mean it.

And stay.

Hours passed like ghosts as memories flickered like black and white movies through my vacant mind.

The stars dulled, swallowed by the dawn’s bruised light.

The sky stretched into the deepest indigos and pale lavender.

I stayed curled around myself, arms locked around my chest, chilled and cracked open.

That’s when I heard it. Footsteps. Slow and hesitant. I didn’t turn at first. I thought maybe it was some jogger or an early hiker catching their breath. But then I felt him. Felt that magnetic pull that acted like gravity pulling us to each other.

Crisp morning air filled my lungs as I pushed up and brushed my damp curls from my face. When I eventually looked up and my eyes locked on him, he looked wrecked . Shirt wrinkled and untucked. Hair like he’d dragged his hands through it a hundred times. Eyes rimmed with shadows and regret.

Theo didn’t say a word. Just sat beside me. Close, but not touching. Silent under the fading stars. I didn’t speak either. Because everything I could’ve said— Why did you choose her? Why did you leave me? —felt too big for words.

So we just sat there. Side by side. Two ghosts under the weight of everything we didn’t say. We sat like that for what felt like forever.

The air was cold, sharp in my lungs, but I didn’t move. Neither of us did. The horizon bled from pale lavenders into softer pinks and sleepy golds. The city below began to wake, lights flickering off one by one.

Theo hadn’t said a word the whole time, and I didn’t know if I wanted him to. Because if he spoke, I’d have to listen. And if I listened, I might have to forgive him. And I wasn’t sure I could do that.

The silence stretched so tight it hummed against my skin. My jaw was locked. My heart thudded in stubborn, miserable beats.

But then, finally— finally —he broke it. “I thought something happened to you,” Theo rasped quietly. “You disappeared. I looked everywhere.”

I turned my face toward him. His eyes were red, and not just from lack of sleep.

“I couldn’t breathe,” he added, almost a whisper. “When you weren’t at the apartment, when no one knew where you went—God, Sin. I thought I’d lost you.”

My throat tightened, a lump forming so fast it stole my air. “You didn’t even have me,” I said, bitter. But it cracked on the way out.

Theo flinched. “I didn’t know what else to do,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the sky like maybe the clouds would carry away his guilt. “Everything felt like it was closing in. And then I looked over, and you were gone.”

“You looked just fine with your fiancé ,” I snapped. “You two were glowing.”

He winced at that. I could see the apology in his posture, in the way his shoulders sagged, in the tremble of his fingers against his knee. But he didn’t offer it. Not really. Not the whole truth.

“What’s going on, Theo?” I asked, every word strained. “Just tell me. Be honest. For once.”

He looked at me—really looked. Eyes glassy, mouth parted like the words were there, just stuck behind everything he couldn’t say. Then, too quietly, he whispered, “We were just… trying to escape. Our parents… they orchestrated the whole thing.”

It was such a half-truth. I could feel the lie settle between us like fog.

Choking. Smothering. But I didn’t push. Because the way he looked at me—it wasn’t a politician’s mask, or a legacy son’s posture.

It was raw and scared and real . Like he didn’t know how to hold onto anything except this one thing between us. Whatever it was. Whatever we were.

And fuck me—I still wanted him. Even now. Even after last night.

His voice broke again. “I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t think . I was going to every place I thought you might go. Your apartment. The diner. The Hollow. The lake. The basketball courts. I just… I needed to find you.”

“Why?” My voice was barely there.

He looked like he wanted to say something, finally tell me everything . But all he said was, “Because I don’t know how to exist when you’re not somewhere in the world with me.”

And that— that —was enough to crack me open. My chest ached. All the reasons I shouldn’t give in, shouldn’t allow him back in—the lies, the secrets, the way he let me walk away without chasing me—melted under the heat of those words.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was plain fucking stupid. But I’d give him one last chance. I leaned in, closing the distance between us, needing to taste the truth of his words on his lips. He met me halfway.

His lips were warm, desperate, trembling against mine. No finesse. Just hunger and need. Just the collision of two people who didn’t know how to live without each other but kept finding ways to break anyway.

It wasn’t a promise.

It was a surrender.

And for now, that was enough.