be a part of that lifestyle, but I did what I needed to help my friends.”
As I make the chili, I tell her about Liam and his arranged marriage to the mob princess. I talk about the day I got sentenced and the realization that nothing would be the same again. Then I admit to keeping her letters and having most of them memorized word for word.
“You do? Really?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” I wash my hands, then dry them. When the chili boils, I turn the heat down to a low simmer.
“I don’t know…” she murmurs softly. “I guess I just thought you forgot about me after all this time, and—”
“Forgot?” I raise my brows. “Are you insane? You’re all I’ve thought about for years.”
Her cheeks turn bright red. Gemma lowers her eyes as if she’s embarrassed we’re talking about this.
“Gemma.” I step closer, tilting her chin up to look at me. “I could never forget you.”
She stares at me, then licks her lips.
“You were my first love. I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you. I was twenty-two and thought the grass was greener on the other side. I had a desire to see what else the world had to offer, but don’t think it was ever easy for me to be without you. My heart was breaking while I simultaneously broke yours.”
Tears well in her eyes, but she holds it back. “Then why didn’t you come back? You just cut off all communication with no warning. I was devastated.”
“I knew it’d only be harder if we kept in touch. I felt like if I visited, I’d never leave, and I’d be here forever.”
“And would that have been so bad?”
“At the time, yes. I didn’t want to feel trapped. I was scared to death of ending up like my mother or worse, my father. I was convinced the only way to break the mold was to leave Lawton Ridge and stay away.”
“I wish you would’ve given me the chance to show you how wrong you were. You would’ve never ended up like them.” She shakes her head when tears stream down her cheeks.
Closing the gap between us, I brush the pads of my thumbs under her eyes.
“Don’t cry, Gem. We can’t rewrite the past.”
She relaxes against my touch. As I cup her face, I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead.
“It’s not the first time I’ve cried over you,” she says with a laugh. “I think I was so hung up on you because you were my first…well, my first everything. Guess it’s true what they say.”
“What’s that?”
“No matter how much time goes by, you never really get over your first love. They’ll always have a place in your heart, whether you want them there or not.”
“Sounds about right…” I mutter. “Never felt that way about anyone again.”
Gemma’s head snaps up. “You didn’t?”
I look down at her, second-guessing if we should be this close or if I should even be admitting these things, but I can’t keep them hidden from her anymore. For years, I’ve held back how much Gemma meant to me and how much I missed her. I’ve wished my stupid head would forget it all, but it’s impossible when my heart still aches for her.
My thumb brushes over her bottom lip, removing it from between her teeth. “No. I don’t think finding love like we had is in the cards for me.”
“Why would you think that?” she asks softly, almost bracing herself for my response.
Grabbing a loose strand of her hair, I slowly tuck it behind her ear, and an electric spark jolts between us.
“No woman compares to you,” I say honestly, then add, “No woman ever will.”
“Tyler…” she whispers on a strangled cry.
I cup her face, bringing our foreheads together. Gemma fists my shirt with her fingers, then wraps her arms around my waist. It’s the closest we’ve been since I’ve been home, and though it’s wrong, it’s never felt more right.
Our heavy breathing fills the silence, and there’s a plethora of raw emotions lingering between us. I’m waiting for her to tell me what to do—back off, leave, stay—and I’ll do whatever she asks.
“What do you want, Gemma?” I’m trying to read her, but it’s impossible.
“Kiss me.” Her words are so soft that I’m positive I misheard her. When I don’t move, she pulls back slightly allowing our gazes to lock. “I want to remember. Remind me?” she pleads.
How can I tell her no? How do I deny the woman