He shrugs against the mattress. “I don’t want someone else to have you. Someone like Jeremy. And that makes me a total fucking dick, because he’s an amazing guy, and he could give you what I can’t. What I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to give you.” He pauses. “And you deserve someone who can give you what you need.” He arches a pointed brow. “How’d you put it? Proud as a peacock about it?”

I frown, flashing back to that morning on the porch of his childhood home. Bits of our conversation replay in my head. What I told him...

“...or worse, I’d...I’d fall for someone who couldn’t love me back the way I needed.”

I’m shaking my head. “Waylon, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” He flashes a quick smile that is in no way convincing. “I get it.”

I swallow through the tightness constricting my throat.

“You were protecting yourself. From getting hurt again. From someone like me.” He looks away. “You should be running for the hills. Especially after Zayne...” He shakes his head. “I’m no good for you. I’m literally the worst idea you’ve probably ever had. I—”

I screw up my face and roll toward him, because fuck that. Fuck everything he’s saying. He tries to move away, but I grab the side of his face, turn it toward mine, and I kiss him.

He stills.

Working his lips open, I slide my tongue into his mouth and kiss him with all the feelings I’ve been bottling up over the last ten years. All the pent-up resentment and hurt over what he did to me as kids. All the ache that’s made a home for itself since I learned the truth behind his actions.

I kiss him like I wanted to on that first day back, when I saw him strutting across the bar like some kind of goddamn bad boy fantasy come to life.

I kiss him like I could hold him here forever with just the force of my will alone—pun absolutely intended.

He’s a little slower to reciprocate this time, but when he does, I can almost pretend that what we have is strong enough to chase away any outside forces that would dare try and come between us. Strong enough to drown out that niggling voice reminding me we can’t ignore what he just said.

I told myself I’d never risk my heart on someone who couldn’t fully reciprocate—on someone who couldn’t stand in front of a crowded room and proudly declare me as his. On someone who could throw me away the second they let hate interfere.

But this is Waylon, and I’ve never been known to keep my word when it comes to him.

He is, and has always been, my one exception.