Page 57 of The Lies Of Omission (Without Limits #3)

Later, when we were full to the point of bursting and movement felt like a distant memory, the sun dipped low over the horizon, bleeding orange and gold across the sky.

Shadows stretched over the deck, painting everything in warm, syrupy tones.

We gravitated to the firepit like moths to a flame, sinking into the worn Adirondack chairs that Richard had made by hand, each one groaning with familiar comfort.

The music had quieted, reduced to a sultry hum in the background—something old and slow that wrapped around us like a favorite blanket. Laughter, soft and low, rippled through the circle in waves, unforced and real. For the first time in what felt like days, maybe even years, peace settled over us.

Claire was curled against Thalia’s side, their heads resting together, content in a way that only true friendship could allow.

Between them, they passed a warm bowl of melted chocolate and marshmallows, dipping their spoils with languid fingers, giggling when it dripped.

Thalia’s smile was sleepy, her hair tangled from the wind, her arm wrapped loosely around Claire like a tether—something grounding in a world that constantly threatened to pull her loose.

I sat beside Theo, my knees brushing his thigh, tucked in like I belonged there. His arm rested heavily around my shoulders, his thumb moving in idle strokes over my collarbone through the thin fabric of my shirt. Each pass felt like a promise—steady, grounding, wordless.

“Okay, but for real,” Thalia said between bites, “if you two don’t FaceTime me from every luxury dock you end up in, I’ll riot.”

Theo grinned. “You’ll get postcards.”

“I want videos , yacht boy. Of you doing rich-people shit like sipping mimosas in cashmere. I want the full experience.”

Claire reached for another marshmallow and added, “And don’t let Sin sink the boat out of spite if he doesn’t get the exact type of coffee he likes.”

“ Hey ,” I scowled, sitting up straight. “I’ve grown. I can go without my French roast for like… three hours. Maybe.”

Thalia snorted. “Growth. We love to see it.” Then she leaned forward and pulled Theo into a hug so tight I worried she’d snap something. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I couldn’t even if I tried,” he said, his smile quiet. “You’ve got the whole country club and my mom under your spell. It’s terrifying.”

She grinned and then turned to me. “And you . I swear to god, if you don’t come back…”

I stood up, pulled her into me, and whispered into her hair, “You’re my best friend, Thalia. The only one I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t be able to find another one even if I paid them, so you’re stuck with me.”

Her breath caught. “You little shit!” but she quickly sobered, wrapping her arms around my shoulders so no one could hear our conversation but us.

“I didn’t even know how empty I was until you showed up and called me an asshole.”

“Because you were one,” she muttered, her voice thick. “Still are.”

I smirked, brushing a tear off her cheek with my thumb. “I know.”

Claire wrapped her arms around both of us, pulling us into a three-person mess of limbs and warmth. “Come back, both of you.”

“We will,” I said, the words soft but heavy. I didn’t know if it was a promise I could keep. But I wanted to. That had to count for something. But there was a world waiting out there for us to explore, and I couldn’t wait.

The sun had dipped almost completely by the time Theo and I made our way down to the private dock.

The yacht shimmered in the low light, sleek and beautiful, its silhouette dancing in the water like something out of a dream.

Our bags were already onboard. The future—whatever that looked like—was waiting.

Theo’s fingers slipped into mine as we reached the edge. The wind lifted strands of his dark hair and rustled the open collar of his shirt. “You ever think we’d get here?” he asked, eyes fixed on the horizon.

“No,” I admitted. “I thought I’d break you before the world did.”

“You didn’t,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “You’re the reason I survived it.”

The dock swayed beneath our feet as we paused on the gangplank. Water lapped against the hull, the world shrinking behind us. The stars blinked to life overhead like scattered secrets.

“I’ve never had a friend,” I said, almost to myself. “Not a real one. Until you. Then Thalia. Claire. All this. I didn’t even know what I was missing until I had it.”

Theo turned, his hand curling around my jaw, thumb tracing the line of my cheek. “I never needed the future my father promised me. I don’t need any of that. I just need this . You. Us .”

I leaned into his touch. “Then let’s go make it ours.”

But before we could step onto the yacht, Theo tugged me back. “Wait,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I forgot something.”

“Seriously?” I pouted. “You forgot toothpaste or some shit?”

He grinned and pulled me close. “No. I forgot to announce it properly.”

I blinked and tilted my head looking at him in confusion. “Have you had too much to drink?”

“I’m stealing you,” he said, loud enough that if Thalia and Claire were still on the deck, they’d hear. “We’re going sailing. A real trip. Not just a few months away.”

I blinked again. “Wait, what?”

“The yacht is ours forever. We’ll hit every island, every coastline. No obligations. Just us and the ocean and whatever chaos you decide to bring.”

I stared at him, caught somewhere between stunned and elated. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly,” he smirked. “You in, sweetheart?”

I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close. “Always.”

And together, laughing, hearts pounding, we stepped onto the boat, the night behind us aglow with the last firelight of the life we were finally ready to leave behind.

The yacht cut through the horizon like a dream carved in chrome and shadow, sleek and elegant, a thing that belonged in fantasy more than reality. The name glinted in sharp silver across the hull: The Future .

I stared at it too long, like maybe the name would make sense if I just stared harder.

Theo didn’t wait for me to move. His fingers threaded through mine—hot, certain—and he tugged me up the gangway like we had always belonged here, like the sea had been waiting for us.

“You named it that on purpose, didn’t you?” I asked as my boots touched the polished teak deck. The wind tasted like salt and starlight. I felt untethered.

Theo smirked. “Maybe.” He pulled me in and kissed me—fast, fierce, like a hit to the chest. “Maybe I needed to believe there was one.”

A future. Our future. I think I melted inside at the sentiment, not that I’d tell him.

The captain greeted us first. Silver hair.

A sunburned face lined with stories I didn’t ask to hear.

His eyes lingered on Theo with something between reverence and fear.

The rest of the crew was the same. Loyal.

Quiet. Efficient. The kind of people who’d follow you into hell—or help you burn it down.

But when they looked at me, it was different. Curious. Measuring. And something else. Like they knew. Not who I was. But what I was to him .

Theo gave me the tour like a man laying out a kingdom as we left the dock behind. The hot tub, the marble kitchen, the upper deck shaded in soft cream and silence. A study, fully stocked with books I didn’t even know existed. Moonlight broke across the sea like shattered glass. It was obscene.

But it was the daybed on the top deck that stole my breath.

Up high. Wide enough to hold us both and more. Cushions soft as clouds. A tray already set—wine, strawberries, the air thick with sugar and sea spray.

We collapsed onto it like our bones had melted. His limbs wrapped around mine. My head on his chest. His heartbeat thudded steady and slow beneath my ear.

I hadn’t been touched like this before him. Not like I mattered. Not like I was real.

“No one’s ever done this for me before,” I murmured, my voice barely audible over the ocean. “Not like this. Not without asking for something in return. Or wanting me for nothing more than a quick fuck. And once, I thought I was okay with that. But not now, not after all you’ve shown me.”

Theo’s fingers slipped through my hair. Gentle. Possessive. “That’s because no one ever saw you for what you are.”

I tilted my head just enough to glance at him. “And what’s that?”

His gaze burned into me. “Mine.”

And I believed him. Because he was mine too.