Page 119 of Blacklist

Four simple words that answer my questions. Four simple words that don’t belong to another soul. They’re ours and always have been. Sterling doesn’t need to say I love you. That’s not what mattered to us then. It’s not what matters now. Reading the card makes it easy to press the call button on the elevator. I watch every floor light up, my certainty build with each.

Zeus is at the door before I manage to knock. I can hear him whining with excitement. Sterling’s voice follows from inside, commanding him to calm down. He opens the door before I reach it. For just one moment our eyes meet, and it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to coming home.

“I knew the flowers would…” The words die from his lips when he stops to really look at me. I know he sees the tear stains on my cheeks and my red nose. I know he sees what’s under that, too. Pain and defeat and exhaustion. He’s at my side then, leading me to the couch. I sit. He stands. “What happened, Lucky?”

The story falls out of me in pieces. I don’t cry. I just speak absently, staring beyond him while trying to see a future that might never be in reach. When I finally get to the part where Malcolm tells me to get out, Sterling takes a seat next to me on the couch. Zeus lays his massive head on my knees. I’m not sure which one looks more concerned.

“You can stay here,” he says without hesitation.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I know that because I want to stay, and I don’t have the best instincts of late.

“I meant what I said earlier today. I know it came out shitty,” he adds when I startle. “I’m not taking this farther then you ask me to. What I mean is that I don’t expect anything if you stay.”

Maybe I’m an idiot, because I believe him. There’s a million reasons not to trust him. It’s stupid considering I don’t know where he’s been all these years and who he really is anymore.

And none of that matters.

Because he’s Sterling and I’m Adair and some things—even when they don’t make sense—are meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” I say in a quiet voice.

His eyebrow arches. “For what?”

“Do you want the whole list?” I ask. “It could take a while.”

He hesitates. A tempest rages in his blue eyes, pulling him in every direction. Pushing him toward me and wrenching him away. I wish I could be his calm—the safe place he seeks instead of the storm. His Adam’s apple slides drawing attention to the stubble peppering his jawline. I’ve been so busy thinking about the boy I used to know that I didn’t see the man in front of me. Now that I do, I see what I didn’t before: I see what drives him.

And it breaks my heart.

“I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t know why I came here,” I say, the words tripping on my tongue, caught in the confusion that clouds me.

“That’s what we do,” he murmurs. He’s so close that I swear I feel him on my skin even though we aren’t touching. “We run back to each other.”

We did once. We broke each other then. We rebuilt ourselves, but why? So we can destroy each other again?

I push and he pulls and we break— and maybe that’s why we’ll never fix us.

Or maybe it’s because last time, he didn’t run back. I didn’t rebuild. We’ve lived shattered lives and told ourselves it made us stronger.

“Why did you leave?” I search his face for the answer I’ve needed for years.

Sterling brushes a thumb over my lower lip. His touch is a lightning strike and there’s nowhere for me to hide. Fire ignites on contact, traveling through me and exploding into flames. He moves closer, his breath warm and sweet on my face. “Why did you stay?”

Getting answers from him requires admitting my own secrets. That’s not something I’m willing to do—not even for him.

“No questions,” I say, forcing myself to add, “it’s not part of the arrangement.”

“I can’t seem to keep track of all the rules.” He withdraws his hand, and I miss him instantly. I ache for him.

I reach for his hand and bring it back to my face. Turning my cheek into it, I plant a kiss on the mound of his palm. “Okay. How’s this? We break one rule for every new one I make.”

“What rule are we going to break first, Lucky?” And then he’s kissing me, because he knows which rule we can’t follow a second longer.

We tear the walls we’ve built down and step into the wreckage together. I’ve been suffocating behind my barricades for years, and he’s air. He’s life, not destruction. He’s beautiful chaos upending my world and setting me free.

I’d forgotten how good he tastes.

Strong arms slide under me and lift me. We move together instinctually. My legs wrap around his waist. My arms tangle around his neck. We’re on a bed and I don’t remember getting there. Only him. Only this. He’s not a boy. He’s a man. I feel the proof of it on my fingertips. I fumble for his belt, but he pushes my hand away and smiles. It’s unguarded. Vulnerable. Stripped to show he’s here with me. All of him. He lifts my arms and pins our clasped hands over my head. When his mouth meets mine again, he lingers with slow lips. He whispers into the kiss. “This is just the first course, Lucky. I want to take my time. I need to savor ever fucking inch of you. I need to taste you.”