Oceans of Us: An Age Gap Forbidden Romance

I’ve always believed there are certain aspects in life we’re destined to never wash away. No matter how deeply I suppress the past and choose to let it stay in the back of my mind, the memories come back in waves. It’s as if there is a burning piece inside me and each day it festers. The flames get warmer and warmer until I feel uncontrollable guilt lace in my chest, wrap around my soul, and blanket the spark to my once fulfilled life.

No matter how desperately I want to douse the fire, I can’t. I can’t because it turns into an inferno. Raging with heated darkness that intensifies and becomes even harder to let go of…

At times I find small remedies to numb the pain, like visiting my beach house in Stinson Beach. But I haven’t been there in a long while. Not because I don’t want to, but because I honestly don’t have it in me to face it. I’ve spent the past thirteen years tearing myself down, stripping myself from the man I once knew, using any excuse to blame myself for what happened. During this time, there have only been two escapes to the pain…

Late night Harley rides and boxing.

Boxing.

For ten years, since twenty-three to thirty-three, boxing at a professional level was my entire life. It was my only way to express all my built-up anger, hurt, and guilt without being labeled reckless. Every jab, every uppercut, every victory won… meant everything to me. Every match felt like a home away from home. The ring was the only place I felt like myself. Uninhibitedly myself. No filters. No facades. Just me. With boxing, I didn’t have to deal with all the shit in the world during those rounds.

Training and conditioning, pre-match rock tunes, the roar of the audience chanting my name whenever I stepped into the ring… it edged this thrill inside of me, one I thought was forever tainted when fate came knocking the year before I was a professional boxer.

Now, as Alaric and I watch on as students flood out the gates of Paisley’s high school at the end of the day, a sense of fury mixed with peace ripples through me. That same exact feeling that used to cross my body before every match. The nickname Santo ‘The Saint’ Lisconti was pegged on me on my fifth fight, when relentless training, high stamina, agility, and perfecting every single aspect of my newfound career had me knock out the former champion of the world in the first ten seconds.

A saint on the feet, a devil in the eyes… that’s what they all used to say.

My life hasn’t been anything far from both heartache and unexpected success. When I hit rock bottom, I never would have anticipated months later the boxing world would open new doors for me and pin me as one of the greatest fighters of all time. Or, the amount of craze, and paparazzi, and private jets to all over the world. Or this numbness inside me during every single post-fight. It’s been three years since I retired from professional boxing, and I still feel it.

As Paisley jogs up to us, I snap out of my past and focus on the now. She’s carrying a white leather backpack and I love how her dark waves sway from side to side with every step.

Shit. Did I just say… love?

There’s a small smile on Paisley’s lips as she sets a hand on her sundresses covered waist. “Erik’s still at his locker with his friends. He didn’t see me. You know you don’t need to do this.”

“Of course I’m doing this.” Alaric clenches his jaw. Rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, he pushes his tense shoulders back. “I want to see the guy who touched my girl.”

“Dad, I don’t know if this is a good idea. Erik’s uncle is the principal and—”

“He and his fucking uncle can kiss my ass.”

Alaric’s fuming, tense ever since we constructed a plan last night to intercept Erik at Paisley’s high school at the end of the school day and teach him a lesson he’ll never forget. Alaric has the mouth. I have the fist. If Erik so much as tries to say anything about Paisley, I’m ready to give him my definition of a fucking warning.

But I know Paisley. I know she would have preferred to go through this civilly, but it seems as though her father and I forgot the definition of being civil years ago.

As Alaric storms off, his leather boots stomping on the gravel schoolyard, Paisley shoots me a frazzled look. “I’m sorry my father dragged you along for backup. Just know it’s okay if you want to leave and head back to work. I completely understand.”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” I almost laugh as I cross my arms over my black Henley shirt. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Plus, I’m not going to pass this opportunity to put the motherfucker who hurt you in his place.”

And with that, we’re off and catching up to Alaric, who’s already closing in on the school doors. Paisley hesitantly leads the way, passing empty classrooms and the few dozen students rushing out into the hall; reaching for their schoolbags in their lockers and loudly talking with their friends. Shit. There’s so much chaos happening you can’t even freaking think in here.

As we round the corner to another hallway with lockers aligning both walls, Paisley slows in her tracks. I know exactly what’s she thinking without even asking, and my senses tell me so does Alaric. A good ten feet away, a group of three guys and two girls are by the left side of the lockers. They’re laughing at something one of them said. One glance and I can already tell what these motherfucking bullies are—trouble.

“Which one’s Erik?” Alaric grits, his eyes darting around.

Paisley swallows down and whispers anxiously, “Dad, please don’t do this.”

“Answer my damn question.”

“The one with the white T-shirt.”

“Stay here, sweetheart,” is all Alaric says before he’s off, storming toward the group with this heated vengeance in his stride. I follow right beside him, not caring if we seem like two damn bodyguards ready to cause carnage… because that’s exactly my plan.

“Hey, Erik! You think putting your hands on a woman is a joke?” Alaric growls and the group’s eyes trail to us as we approach. “Don’t seem so smart now, do you?”

Erik steps forward with a cocky smirk and the chickenshit thinks he’s some type of god, the way he crosses his arms over his chest. “You talking to me?”

“Yeah, you,” I grit. “So quit the fucking De Niro act.”

He glances between Alaric and me, despite him being a good five inches shorter, and scoffs. “Do you know who my uncle is?”

“Do you know who the fuck I am?”

One of his friend’s eyes widen. “Shit. Are you Lisconti?”

“You bet your sweet life I am.” I turn back to Erik. “Tell your friends to leave.”

Chickenshit stares at me for a solid moment before glancing over his shoulders at his friends. With a clenched jaw, he nods toward the end of the hall. “You guys start walking to the diner. I’ll catch up when I’m done here.”

Erik’s friends don’t seem too eager to leave, but when he tells them for a second time, they all swing their backpacks over their shoulders and start to scramble out. Oh, but not before the death glares they give both Alaric and me, as if that’s enough to make us run.

Yeah, give me a break.

The hallway clears out and some of the remaining students must get the memo that shit is about to go down because one look at me and they all begin charging out of the hall until it’s just chickenshit, my best friend, Paisley, and I.

Erik’s eyes dart to her and mockingly says, “Hey, loser, those fading marks look good on you. Probably the first time a man’s ever come close to touching you, am I right?”

Alaric steps forward, blocking Erik’s view of Paisley with his broad shoulders. “Apologize to my daughter before I take this up with the principal.”

“Oh, I’m so scared, Mr. Reign. I’m shaking.” Erik smirks.

What a fucking cocky bastard.

“I said apologize to her now. I want to know why the hell you targeted my daughter. Paisley doesn’t deserve to be bullied by people like you anywhere, especially at school. This is supposed to be a safe place and considering you’re in senior year and practically an adult. I just don’t understand it. Do you have no human decency?”

Erik scoffs. “Please, you’re just pissed because you’re a single dad and have had to bring up a fucking loser all on your own. Should have gotten her into therapy a long time ago, because she’s fucked in the head. Hasn’t made a friend since the day she got here.” His eyes flicker to Paisley. “Isn’t that right, loner? You probably haven’t even had your first kiss, right?”

That’s all it takes for me to snap. I know in hindsight I shouldn’t probably say anything. After all, this is Alaric’s daughter and he should be the one to control the situation, but I can’t take the way Erik’s speaking anymore. It’s as if he has authority over everybody. As if Paisley is worth nothing.

“Say that again,” I growl and step forward, getting all up in his cocky face. I violently punch the locker vents beside his head twice, ignoring the slight sting of the cuts it leaves. “Go on. Say it. I. Fucking. Dare. You.”

“Paisley’s fucked in the head.”

That does it.

In one swift motion, my fist collides with his nose and metal crashes as he slams against a locker. An agonizing groan escapes his lips, his cheap overdone cologne flooding the air I breathe. It pisses me off more, knowing I smelled it on Paisley. Fucker. Gripping his collar to stabilize him, I throw another punch and another and a-fucking-nother; my pent-up anger only growing.

Alaric grips my bicep in an attempt to pull me back, but I’m too in the zone to justify the words he’s saying, let alone stop. “Saint, I get you’re angry and, trust me, so am I, but this is too far.”

“You should have seen the look on Paisley’s face when she opened the door, Alaric. I don’t give a shit if this is going too far. He’s going to get what he deserves.”

“I understand that, but I don’t want the police to be called or—”

“I’ve got it, trust me.” I confirm, putting an end to his concerns. I ignore his further bids to calm me down. Ignore Paisley’s gasps. Ignore every single thing but my objective to show Erik what happens when you play with fire.

I lose it because I hated how broken Paisley was. Tidal waves of reminders of how badly he hurt her and my guilt for my past twirl and come undone in the form of rage. I give no mercy throwing strong punches at the fucker like I’m back in the ring until I see fit to pull back.

“Call her that again. I fucking dare you. Call. Paisley. That,” I say through gritted teeth, smiling devilishly as crimson pours from Erik’s nostrils.

I’ve hit him so hard blood is smeared all across his cheeks, mouth, T-shirt, and my right fist. But I don’t fucking care. I’ll go all afternoon if I have to. The beast within has taken over and there’s this fire that burns deep inside me, one that used to fuel me every single match.

Erik doesn’t answer, instead grunts and pleads with me that he gets it. He’s getting cold feet fast. His left eye is twitching—halfway open—and the smugness on his lips from only moments ago is now replaced with a grimace.

“Oh, you want me to stop? Ding ding, motherfucker, this is just round fucking one and the odds are in my favor. It doesn’t get any prettier from here.” Tightening my grip on his blood-stained T-shirt collar, I pull him even closer and press my lips by his ear. Then whispering so chilling low, I say, “I’ve come close to putting men to sleep, understand what I’m sayin’? I’ve come within seconds of it, so I have no trouble perfecting my record with you. Remember that. You come after Paisley again, I’ll make sure your family never finds your body, got it?”

Erik’s knees buckle and he falls to the white vinyl tile floor by his backpack and my leather boots. Oh no, you don’t. Scoffing, I drag his entire body back up with one hand alone and spin him around. I slam his front against the lockers, his blood smearing all over the navy metal. With his left cheek pressed against it, I take hold of his wrists behind his back and roughly squeeze them before letting go.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Erik breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Think that’s going to stop me? When the fuck did you stop when Paisley was begging you, huh? When the fuck did you stop, you piece of shit? You’re lucky I don’t put you six feet under me right now. You ask that dickhead friend of yours. He knows the shit I’m capable of.”

“I’m sorry, I swear, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell that to me, tell that to Paisley Reign.”

Gripping his copper-colored hair, I tug on the strands and guide his head until his gaze is on her. I take this as a chance to glance her way too, and a single glance at her is enough to compose my tense shoulders and soften my heavy breaths.

“Oh my…” Paisley gasps, her eyes widening at the sight of Erik’s bloodied face.

“Tell Paisley Reign you’re sorry and that you won’t mess with her again,” I say to him. “And just remember, if you call the police or don’t come up with an excuse to who did this to you when your uncle or parents ask, I will hunt you down. I’ll find you and rip you to shreds and you can kiss your ass goodbye to college football or whatever the hell it is you’re chasing. Do you know what reign means? It means to rule with sovereign power, and it couldn’t be truer because Paisley isn’t a loner or a loser or on her own, she has a fucking reign and you better believe she’s the most powerful fucking queen out there when idiots like you don’t drag her down. Understood?”

“Yes.” Erik coughs out blood. “I’m sorry. I swear to God this won’t happen again.”

“Tell Paisley, not me.”

“I know you probably won’t accept it, but I’m sorry, Paisley.”

Paisley’s eyes narrow. “I don’t believe you, nor should I.”

“Look, I know that—”

“Oh, do you?” Paisley explodes, and I couldn’t be any more freaking prouder. “Because there’s nothing you can say that can fix this. Nothing. I’m not the same girl I was on Friday. I’m done with people like you mistreating others when they’re already crumbling. I’m not taking your shit anymore, Erik. I’m. Not. Taking. It. I know my worth and I’m not going to be lowering it anymore to idiots like you.”

A proud smile works its way up my lips. That’s my girl.

“Paisley… I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have done what I did. I just wanted to… Criticizing somebody else felt better than confronting my own issues and I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…” Erik’s voice breaks as his eyes turn glassy. What the hell? My brows actually knit up because I swear to God he’s… crying? “I just have a lot going on and I decided to take it out on you, Paisley.”

Paisley gulps down, those beautiful honey-brown eyes shifting between her father, me, and then back to Erik. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she whispers, “Just promise me this won’t happen again.”

“I promise. I really do,” he sniffles and after a few lost seconds adds, “I know you probably don’t care, but you know how I’ve been absent a lot during some of the year…?”

“Yeah?”

I cautiously step back as Erik turns around and reaches for the collar of his shirt. Slowly and with his brown eyes on Paisley’s, he pulls down the collar of his shirt, revealing a thick, flat scar on the base of his neck. My heart drops. Fucking drops. Because I know exactly what it means… precisely.

Shit.

“At the start of the year, I told people a gang did this to me. But in reality, in January I was diagnosed with…” He gulps down, almost as if he’s summoning the courage to say the next words. “Caner. Thyroid cancer. Stage one. I had surgery to remove my thyroid and fortunately the cancer is gone for now, but it’s been recovery and a daily pill ever since. None of my friends know and I wanted to keep it that way… I haven’t been the same since. I’m not happy with myself, so I hurt other people, and I know it’s wrong, but I just… I just feel so lost. I can’t help but want to escape, so I do it through other people’s problems. But I promise after today, I won’t. I’m sorry for hurting you, Paisley, I’m sorry for everything.”

Silence unfolds between us as Erik breaks out into a full-on sob. I never expected this from a guy like him. Erik may be a shit stirrer, but I know just how genuine his words were. He isn’t bullshitting about this because I… Fuck.

My heart is in my throat because I’ve never gone from wanting to destroy somebody to wanting to still destroy them but with this strange sense of sympathy laced around my body.

Swiping some blood off my face, I turn to Paisley and Alaric and tell them I’ll meet them in the car. I should be better than this, stronger than this. That’s what I tell myself when I peel my gaze off their concerned ones and stride down the high school hallway with a blurred vision.

This can’t be happening. Not fucking now.

My stride turns into a full-on jog as I rush out of the school gates and head to my Maserati, not caring about the wide eyes of people as I pass them. I know what they’re staring at—the blood—but they can think whatever they like. I need to get inside my car right now. Once I’m in the passenger seat, I rub my face and leave my hands there for a few moments as I concentrate on my breaths.

Thyroid cancer.

Breathe.

Remission.

Breathe.

Recurrence.

Breathe.

Moments later, the driver’s and back seat doors click open, jolting me back up as I slide my hands away. Alaric and Paisley step inside, with my best friend opposite me in the driver’s seat, yet my eyes can’t help but trail to her.

“I forgave him,” Paisley says as if she can read the question lingering in my eyes. “Thank you for protecting me back there. I appreciate it more than you know, Saint.”

I stare back, expecting to find a drop of fear in her gaze, but there’s none.

“No trouble,” I manage to whisper, despite this sudden gloom that’s taken over me.

My heart is numb. My pain is numb. My entire body is numb.

Alaric’s eyes knit in concern. “Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Clenching my jaw, I nod and hand him my car key. “I don’t think I can drive. Do you mind?”

“Of course not.” He gives me a double look and shoots me a soft smile. “Thanks for everything back there. I didn’t expect him to say what he did… but I appreciate you made him realize there are consequences to every action in life.”

I nod as Alaric turns the engine on and pulls out of the parking lot. He has no idea how much his words spoke to me. Consequences. Because if there’s anybody that knows the true impacts of consequences in this world more than me, it’s him. Especially when it comes to love.

Just then, as my eyes lock with Paisley’s through the side-view mirror of the car, this gravitational pull from inside me drags me back down to reality. The kindness in her gaze, the gratitude in her comforting smile… I just need to know she’s okay. I want to hold her. Have her tell me everything is going to be all right. Because right now, I’m not so sure myself anymore.

It scares me. Scares me that I’d do anything for Paisley, today being a clear example… and that’s dangerous for a man like me. Dangerous because for the first time in years, I feel this abundance in my chest threatening to explode.

I vowed myself to stay the fuck away from Paisley Reign because not only is she forbidden, she doesn’t deserve a man who still doesn’t have his shit together. But God knows I can’t walk away from the warmth she holds, from the security she gives, from the beauty she is. Because maybe… maybe, I’m already in far too deep and Lord knows there’s no saving me.

Not now…

Not from the Devil himself…

Not from me.

Once Alaric turns into Portola Way, my pulse speeds up as he suggests I spend the evening at his house to clean myself up and simply relax. He even offers to order some pizza and as much as I want to be alone with my own thoughts, I’ve had my fair share of solitary overpowering my ability to confront situations over the years, so with a heavy heart, I accept.

Paisley’s quick to unlock her front door and Alaric helps me inside, the doctor in him concerned about the small bloody cuts on my right knuckles. I make a joke about them forgetting I’m a former professional boxer, which brings on echoing laughter, and while it lightens the mood between us all, there’s still this fog overtaking my frame of mind.

It’s been there ever since Erik dropped the bombshell about his cancer. While it wasn’t an excuse for his bullying ways, I related when he said picking on other people’s issues made him escape from the fucked up life he had. Because although I didn’t find my escapism in hurting innocent people, I found it in the boxing ring.

Every match was exerting my pain.

My grief.

My anger.

Fighting has always been my release, and while a part of me isn’t proud of the way I went wild with Erik in front of my best friend and Paisley, another part is just happy he’ll finally leave her alone.

It hasn’t even been five seconds since we stepped inside and Paisley’s already brought down a first aid kit from the upstairs bathroom. I thank her and disappear into the ground-level bathroom to fix up the mess I’ve made.

Wetting a couple of Kleenexes, I squeeze out the moisture before stepping toward the vanity mirror. As I glide them over my cheeks and stubble, wiping away Erik’s blood that has inevitably transferred onto me, it’s hard not to stop a couple of times and pause at the look in my eyes… such sadness pools in my ocean blues.

What is going on with me?

For a moment, I stare deep into my eyes in the mirror, feeling my soul reach out and touch the surface of the mirrored glass, banging for an escape before coming back to me. It’s within that second where my father’s face flashes across my mind. I blink and it’s gone. Only tainted fragments of the light eyes, soft crow’s feet, and smile lines that bind us together remain.

Cancer.

Remission.

Recurrence.

I’m tempted to slam my fist against the granite bathroom counter to crush the thoughts circulating in my brain. But I refrain because firstly, enough damage has been done. Secondly, this is Alaric’s house. Although he didn’t say anything further about the way I responded to Erik, I don’t want my luck to run dry and know any future acting out will warrant an explanation from my best friend when it’s the last thing I wanna do right now.

I find my eyes in the mirror. “Calm down, Lisconti. You’re okay.”

Skipping the damn antiseptic cream, I run my right fist under the faucet. I clench my jaw at the slight sting of the small cuts as clear water turns red for a few seconds before I splash some on my face to wake me the hell up. Scanning through the first aid kit, I take out some gauze and unwrap a small amount before ripping it with my teeth and wrapping the dressing around my right fist. It takes me back to my boxing days.

It doesn’t even take a second before blood begins seeping through the gauze tape and I let out a frustrated groan, just as a knock comes from the other side of the bathroom.

“Saint? Is everything okay?”

It’s her.

Paisley.

“Yeah, just fucked up this damn gauze tape.”

“Can I come in?” her soft voice asks after a few seconds.

Without hesitation, I pull on the door handle and lower my heavy eyes to meet hers. There’s a moment of silence that passes between us, just lingering smiles until her gaze moves to my right hand and softens.

“Shit,” Paisley murmurs, brushing her hair behind her ear and taking my hand to examine further. The action exposes that beautiful long neck of hers and I bite my cheek for staring. “Why don’t you sit at the edge of the bath and I’ll fix up the gauze?”

Wordlessly, I nod. A part of me wonders where the hell Alaric is. The other part doesn’t give a shit. It’s as if my words transcribe to her mind when Paisley lets me know a former work colleague just called him.

I take a seat at the edge of the free-standing tub, gulping down at the sight of Paisley as she gets a cotton ball and wets it with water before stepping closer to me. She sets the first aid kit nearby on the floor tiles and kneels in front of me. The pretty angel knows exactly what she’s doing as she settles between my parted legs and retakes my right hand, not before sexily wetting her lower lip with her glistering pink tongue. Paisley glances up at me through her eyelashes, her breasts grazing against my thigh as she turns to take the antiseptic cream out of the kit, and my damn cock throbs through my jeans.

We share this deep, intense stare as Paisley passes the cotton ball over the bloodied small cuts on my fist. I can’t stop looking at her. When she’s done cleaning the blood away, she opens the antiseptic cream and her soft fingertips smear the cold white substance across my knocked-up knuckles, smoothing my skin with her touch.

“Was this how it was at the end of every match?”

I nod softly, unsure of where this conversation is going, but there’s this rawness between us, this stripped façade of all the make-believe. It’s just us. Us and our wildly beating hearts and the deep, intimate lingering gazes both of us can’t seem to drop.

I suck in a deeper breath, feeling her touch slowing as my hand begins to shake. I wish I could make it stop. Wish it would all fucking go away, but my past doesn’t let it.

“Your hand… you’re trembling,” Paisley murmurs, softly tracing my trembling right hand with resistance. She flips it over, my hand so big against hers, and I hold out my palm wider, watching Paisley’s brows knit. I know the exact moment she sees it again.

Paisley glides her pointer over my palm, her deep-set eyes flickering to mine in a bid of permission to continue. I don’t say anything. I simply watch her with tense shoulders and a heavy heart. Fuck. A jolt crosses through my entire body as her finger slowly runs up the sensitive spot of the long white scar that runs from the center of my palm to the pad of my thumb.

The memory attached to it swallows me whole.

Tell her to stop…

“Who did this to you?” Paisley asks, her voice pleading for me to let her in.

There hasn’t been another woman I’ve been more comfortable around but the one right in front of me, but I can’t let her into my fucked-up world, not any more than she already is.

“Saint…”

Standing, I tighten my jaw and her hand slips away as I maneuver around her. Picking up some fresh gauze from the kit, I stroll to the vanity and once again measure up a length for the gauze before cutting it with my teeth.

“Let me do it,” Paisley’s sweet voice comes from behind in a whisper.

No.

I swallow thickly and am on the brink of saying it when I lift my gaze to meet the mirror. I find those brown eyes already on mine. There’s this somberness to the air as she stands in front of me, her back pressed against the vanity as she wraps up my knuckles, even though I would have been perfectly fine without it.

“Why haven’t you said a word?”

“Didn’t like your questions.”

“I’m sorry.” She sighs. “I don’t mean to impose.”

“You aren’t imposing. Tonight’s just not the night to unload.”

“Okay.”

The air crackles between us.

“Also,” Paisley says. “Thank you for always knowing what to do.”

“I just wanted to protect you, nothing special.”

“Well, it’s special to me, Saint. I appreciate it more than you know.”

“Anytime. You know I’m here for you.”

She smiles. “Were you okay back there? It’s like Erik said something touchy.” She must see the apprehension on my face because a couple seconds later she adds, “Of course, you don’t have to tell me. You’re probably more inclined to tell my father, but just want to say I’m here if you want to talk about it—”

I surprise myself when I blurt out, “Five years ago when I was thirty-one… my father died of thyroid cancer. I guess hearing Erik talk about his own battle… it… it fucked me up.”

Paisley’s eyes widen in sympathy. “Shit, Saint… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know your father had… if I’d known, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. This is just life.”

I hate the way I fucking adore how smooth Paisley’s hands are against my scruff as she cups my jaw. Hate it even more that it instantly makes me feel calmer, instead of tensing me up.

“The bad boy lost his touch,” Paisley whispers, her warmth electrifying me. “The more we talk, the more I realize you’re not the bad guy you wanted me to believe you were when we first met. You’re a good guy. The world just fucked you over and so you created this rough, invincible exterior. You want others to see you as intimidating so you don’t have to open up to them… but not with me. I have a feeling you don’t talk to many people like you talk with me and sometimes you push me away because you feel better if there’s a barrier between us. That’s why while I may know your favorite movie, I rarely know anything else. Your passions, your dreams, your desires, why you left Santa Rosa, why you started boxing, what makes you laugh, what a Saturday night with you would look like if love was what you chased. I don’t know any of that—”

“Because it’s better that way, Paisl—”

“But is it really? Or are you just scared of the beauty life may give you?”

I gulp down because she’s spot-on and I’m ashamed she’s able to read me so well. It means I’m lowering my walls for her and I’ve spent so many years reinforcing them, only for her to knock them down with the slightest touch. I’m vulnerable to her. I can be myself around her and that scares me and thrills me all at the same time.

“Every single time I’ve attempted to see the beauty, life strips a piece of my soul away. I know you, Paisley. You want to see the good in everything, but my life isn’t structured that way. That’s why you and I should stop trying to…”

“Trying to what?” Paisley cocks her head to the side, her thumb brushing against my lower lip, and my cock feels it as if her mouth is there instead. Her honey browns drop to my lips and my gaze darkens. Desire swirls in her eyes. It’s as if she wants to kiss me. I’m sure if she did right now, I’d have no resistance to back away because I’m so damn responsive to this woman it hurts. “Tell me, Saint. Trying to what?”

“We should stop trying to dance around the fire when we’re bound to get hurt. Look, I know we have this emotional connection and it’s so fucking intense. I know. Believe me when I say I do. I’ve never had this type of connection with anybody else in my life. But this can’t develop into any more… not a physical relationship, not any kind of relationship. It isn’t right.”

“Is that why you told me you can’t stop thinking about me? Is that why you said you wanted to unravel me?”

Fuck.

When I attempt to step away from her, the hand by my jaw tightens, forcing me to stay in place and face Paisley. She offers me a weak smile. “I know what you’re trying to do, Saint. You’re trying to have the best intentions at heart and while I appreciate it, I know that what’s going on between us isn’t purely derived from emotion. There’s something more and we both know it. Sometimes best intentions don’t allow you to clasp that beauty in life. I just… I just want to see the type of man you can be without the strings hardwiring you to never feel content in life. I know you’ve had a hard life, and while the pain in mine may not come close, I just want to see us come out on the other side and live.”

“And how do we do that?”

“By allowing me to see the full extent of who Saint Lisconti is.”

Maybe I’ve gone fucking insane, but every breath feels like thunder swallowing me up as I say, “On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You allow me to see the full extent of who Paisley Reign is.”

Her eyes light up. “In a heartbeat.”

In a heartbeat…

“After your graduation.”

“Okay, after my graduation.”

The air crackles between us.

“Well, I think we’re both in need of some two-wheel therapy after this.”

Paisley’s brows knit. “Did you say… two-wheel therapy? What does that consist of?”

“You. Me. My Harley. A long, breathtaking ride across California to escape reality.”

Her eyes light up in awe. “In your dreams, Lisconti.”

I shoot her a slow, sexy smile. “Oh, that’s totally happening.”

“I’m not going on your Harley,” she says, but her bright grin contradicts her every word.

“We’ll see about that.” I wink.

Paisley’s warm laugh centers my entire soul.

God, this woman has me wrapped around her finger, destined to never let go.

I thank Paisley for wrapping my gauze and step out of the bathroom and down the hall to the living room. This warm anticipation of what’s about to come crosses my entire body. Alaric, who’s still on the phone, waves me over by his seat on the couch. As he talks into the phone, he analyzes my wrapped-up fists before nodding. I can’t help but chuckle. It’s the fucking doctor in him, always wanting to overlook everything.

A few moments later, he gets off the phone and lets out a long, exaggerated sigh when he throws his phone on the couch. “Fucking hell, when this friend calls, he doesn’t know how to shut up. Sorry I couldn’t help you out, man. If I don’t answer, he won’t stop ringing until I pick up. Seems like you managed fine without me.”

“Yeah, I’ll live.”

“Did Paisley help you? I saw her walk down the hall when I got the call.”

Don’t. Slip. Up. Lisconti.

I shake my head. “No, she went past the bathroom. Think she was in the library.”

“Typical Paisley move. That’s all right.”

What a freaking save.

My throat dries up. “Got anything to drink? That thing with Erik fired me up. I need something to ease me.”

That’s apparently all it takes for Alaric to jump off the couch and clap his hands together with a grin. “Don’t tell anybody, but my father used to say the best medicine is liquor, so you’ll definitely live.” He chuckles, slapping my back as he passes me to get to the kitchen. Once there, he raids his alcohol section before showing me a Highland Park Whiskey bottle. “This okay?”

I smirk and cross my arms over my broad chest. “Doctor my ass.”

“Smartass. You should know I take care of my patients with maximum attention. It just so happens that you’re not my patient, and so…” He laughs, setting down the whiskey bottle to raise his hands up in defense. “I can’t control what the heart wants after hours.”

“I’m only pulling your strings and yes to the whiskey. Thanks, man.”

Alaric pours us two fingers and I thank him again as he slides my glass across the kitchen island. As I swallow down the cool amber liquid, thoughts of Paisley cross my mind. The more I think, the harder it is to meet my best friend’s gaze as we talk.

“I can’t thank you enough with how you handled it back there, Saint. I’m not going to lie, you went a little far, but that Erik definitely received a lesson.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I know Paisley’s your everything. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“I know.” Alaric nods and rubs a hand over his cleanly shaven jaw. “What did you think about Erik opening up like that? I mean, about the cancer. It certainly made me see the whole situation from a different perspective. Your dad also had thyroid cancer… didn’t he?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “Erik’s fortunate they caught it in the earlier stages. My father’s was much more aggressive… as you know. When Erik said that… I didn’t know what to think. I’m just glad we put him back in his place, so don’t worry, he won’t tell the principal shit.”

“After what you did to him, he definitely won’t. Erik may be a fucker, but he certainly doesn’t have the balls to tell his uncle a former professional boxer destroyed him. I just hope it’ll be the last of him trying to come after my daughter.”

His daughter.

Paisley.

Can two broken souls really come together and make something special? I don’t fucking know. But what I do know is that I’m sick of all this uncertainty in my life. Ever since Paisley turned eighteen and she wrapped her arms around me, I’ve been a goner.

Paisley Reign is the one thing in my life I’m certain of, and while genuine and so damn beautiful, I admire her for more than that. I admire her intelligence. Her strength. Her courage. Despite this unspoken rule between Alaric and me about Paisley… I feel myself letting go of the promise because for once in my life I feel safe. Secure. Understood.

When Paisley emerges from down the hall, her eyes glued to her phone, I still feel her hands lingering across my skin. She glances up, her eyes meeting her father with a soft smile and so I look down at my glass, my finger slowly tracing the rim as they speak.

“Have you decided what we should do for dinner, Dad? I’m searching up this new sushi place that opened downtown just the other week. My boss, Maralyn, can’t stop raving about it. They deliver. Maybe we could try it?”

“Sounds good to me. What do you think, Saint?”

I look up at my best friend, pretending my entire body isn’t on fire as I feel his daughter’s hot gaze on the back of my head. “Yeah, sushi’s perfect.”

“Cool. Oh, how did you go with fixing up your fist?” Paisley asks.

I turn to her and it’s as if she’s in sync with my cover-up. “Yeah, good. I’m all wrapped up. Thanks for asking.”

“It’s okay.” She smiles and turns back to her father. “So, how was the call?”

I zone out after that, returning my gaze to my glass. Can I really do this? Go behind Alaric’s back like this? My questions seem to answer themselves. It’s not up to me anymore. It’s forbidden temptation and the devil controlling this fate.

Somebody once said miracles happen every single day and that it’s just up to us to find them. As much as I want to deny it, something tells me my miracle is right across the room. Paisley. She’s changed me in these three years. She’s making me a better man. And although I’m not perfect—I’m far from it—I’ll always be here for her.

Always.

Just like she is for me.

Thirteen years ago, when everything crumbled around me, I promised myself I’d never put myself in that situation again. After what happened, I was convinced I didn’t deserve any other woman’s heart. But now that I’ve accepted that whatever is going on between Paisley and me—whatever it truly is—is much more than emotionally driven… I’m terrified.

Terrified I will jeopardize everything we have and fuck it up beyond repair.

Terrified Paisley won’t be able to handle the full extent of the flaws that cage me.

Terrified I’ll become chained to guilt. Because I know that feeling too well… guilt.