A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 39: CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

KYLE

I didn’t believe in fate as a general rule. But like all rules, there were exceptions.

I’d only had one before tonight—the day I met Ashley for the first time in high school

And now, standing here, watching her glare at me with whiskey-flushed cheeks and fire in her eyes, I knew I’d found my second exception.

Of all the bars in the city, of all the nights in the year, we both ended up here.

If that wasn’t the universe sending a message, then nothing was.

“I have a proposal,” I said finally, keeping my voice even. “I know how badly you want me gone. So let’s try something different.”

Her brow arched, skepticism flashing across her face. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Her nonchalance should have convinced me she truly wanted nothing to do with me. But I was close.

Close enough to see the way her pupils dilated when I spoke.

Close enough to notice the slight tremble in her fingers as she curled them into fists.

Close enough to know that, despite everything—her words, her anger—she still felt it too.

“Let’s be friends,” I said.

Shock flickered across her face, quickly followed by suspicion. She parted her lips, hesitated, then pressed them into a tight line.

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken history.

“I’m not answering that,” she muttered, reaching for her drink.

“I’m not asking for an answer right now,” I countered smoothly. “Just… think about it.”

Ashley scoffed, but I saw the conflict in her eyes.

And then, as if the universe wasn’t done meddling, a familiar melody wove through the air, wrapping around us like a ghost from the past.

"Lost in the Fire." By the Weeknd

The song we used to dance to. The song that once belonged to us.

My breaths stilled, syncing with Ashley’s as the realization dawned on her, too.

The sign outside had boasted Latin Night, promising salsa and reggaeton, but out of all the songs in the world—what were the chances this one would play at this exact moment?

Like I said, I didn’t believe in fate… except when it came to her.

“Dance with me.” I extended my hand, palm up, waiting.

She didn’t take it.

I’d expected her refusal, but it stung nonetheless.

“What would tonight look like if things were different?” I asked quietly. “If we were still the people we used to be?”

Her throat bobbed in a visible swallow, betraying the emotions she tried so hard to suppress.

“Don’t,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“Indulge me,” I said, my voice softer now. “For old time’s sake.”

“If things had been different,” she said softly, her fingers tightening around her glass, “we would’ve walked in together, laughing about something ridiculous. We’d order our usual drinks without even thinking about it. You’d complain about your meetings running late, and I’d roll my eyes about the traffic. We’d people-watch, make up ridiculous backstories for strangers, and argue over whether it’s too soon for holiday decorations.”

Her voice wavered, and she looked away, as if the words were too heavy to hold my gaze.

“We’d just be happy”

That last word shattered something inside me.

Because once upon a time, we were happy.

The image she painted wasn’t just a fantasy. It was a life we could have had—a life we should have had. But I’d let it slip through my fingers, too consumed by the empire I was building, too blind to see what I was losing until it was already gone.

And now, for the first time in a long time, I wanted to be that man again.

The one who made her laugh. The one she trusted. The one she loved.

“One dance.” The words left my lips before I could stop them. I hadn’t begged for anything in years, but I was begging now. “Please.”

She stared at my outstretched hand. My heart slammed against my ribs, a violent, unrelenting rhythm. Just when I thought she’d walk away—just when I prepared myself for the familiar sting of her rejection—her fingers slid into mine.

A rush of relief crashed through me so hard it nearly stole my breath.

I pulled her closer, careful, deliberate, treating her like something fragile. Because she was—not in the way that meant she would break, but in the way that meant if I wasn’t careful, I could lose her all over again.

The music pulsed around us, but I wasn’t listening. I was too caught up in her—the way she fit against me, the way her body tensed before softening, the way her hand curled ever so slightly against my chest as if she were holding onto something she shouldn’t.

I leaned in, my voice low. “Do you remember the first time we went to a bar together?”

Ashley let out a quiet laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Of course I do. How could I forget?”

“You ordered that disgusting bright blue drink, and I told you it looked like windshield wiper fluid.”

Her lips twitched. “And I told you your whiskey tasted like regret.”

I smiled, a real one this time. “And then you stole half of it anyway.”

She exhaled, a soft, unsteady breath. “That was a long time ago, Kyle.”

I knew what she was really saying.

We were a long time ago.

But as I held her against me, the warmth of her body seeping through my clothes, the faint hitch in her breath syncing with mine, I wasn’t so sure.

Maybe we weren’t over.

Maybe we never had been.

The song faded into the background, but I didn’t loosen my hold. Not yet.

Ashley shifted, her muscles tensing as she prepared to step away, but I tightened my arm around her, just enough to keep her close without caging her in.

“Not yet,” I murmured, my voice rough with something I couldn’t name. I wasn’t ready to let her go. I wasn’t sure I ever would be.

Her lips parted slightly, as if she was about to argue, but instead, she let out a shaky exhale.

“One dance,” she reminded me, her voice steady despite the storm I saw in her eyes.

“Yes.” My throat tightened as I dipped my head, the scent of her—vanilla and something uniquely Ashley—curling around me, dragging me under. “But I have one last request.”

Her breath caught.

My gaze dropped to her lips. Soft. Slightly parted. So close I could feel the heat radiating from them. The air between us pulsed, thick and electric, a charged silence filled only with the uneven rhythm of our breathing.

She could walk away right now. She could turn and leave, and we would go back to pretending, back to the unbearable distance.

But she didn’t move.

I lowered my mouth to hers, hesitating for the briefest of seconds. A final chance for her to pull away.

She didn’t.

The first touch was barely a kiss—just a whisper of contact, a ghost of what we used to be. But it detonated inside me, cracking through my restraint, sending shockwaves of longing down my spine.

Pain. Regret. Want. Love.

No one had ever made me feel the way Ashley did, and with just that single brush of lips, I was undone.

A quiet, involuntary sigh escaped her, barely more than a breath, but it was enough. My control snapped like a frayed thread, and I was kissing her—really kissing her.

My hand slid into her hair, angling her head so I could taste her deeper. Her fingers curled around my shoulders, nails biting into my skin as if she needed something to hold onto. I drank her in, savoring the faint trace of whiskey on her tongue, the way she trembled against me, the way her lips parted to let me in.

Desire coiled, hot and insistent, tightening around us like a noose.Every slow, deliberate stroke of my tongue against hers, every muffled whimper that escaped her lips, every press of her body against mine only pulled me deeper into the need that had never really faded.