If There's a Way (Lost Boys #2)

by Jessie Walker

“Isn’t it obvious?” He cocks his head. “He wasn’t just terrified I’d hurt him for it, Will…” My vision blurs. “...he was terrified I’d hurt you.”

Life is for the living, motherfucker.

All I feel is the boy in my arms—my boy. My guy. My man. The one who’s been there all along, waiting for me—and all I can do is pray that I’m not too late. Please, please, please don’t let me be too late.

See, Will, see. See this heart in my chest. See how it flies for you.

This isn’t an angry kiss. This isn’t a relieved kiss. There are no words for this kiss.

“Well too fucking bad,” I murmur. “You are loved. And I’m not better off without you.” He sucks in a shaky breath. Slowly, I take a step back, then another. His shirt pulling until I have no choice but to let go. “And I’d rather feel this burden of knowing and loving you than go even a second without you existing somewhere on this planet.”

“You’re a ticking time bomb,” I hear myself say, my voice distant even to my own ears. “One that just keeps fucking rebuilding itself after every explosion, over and over and over again. But I don’t. I don’t rebuild. I don’t heal. I just keep taking it. But I can’t anymore. There’s not enough left of me to take any more shrapnel and walk out alive.”

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, City Boy. Sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

I’ve always been a little afraid of the dark, and yet… it’s in the dark that I find my courage. How fucked up is that? If only it was enough.

“Just keep your heart beating for me, okay?”

I might not know love, but I do know my heart beats for him. That much is as clear as day to me.

I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not going anywhere. Prove he’s not a whim or a fix or any-fucking-thing else in between. He’s the beat of my fucking heart. And that? That’s everything.

How do I tell him that now that I know what it’s like to wake up in his arms, I don’t know how I’ll ever sleep without him again?

“I want to be burdened by you,” I tell him, lifting my shoulders before dropping them. “I want to be the person you burden.”

Neither of us say anything as we just sit there, with Will maintaining his protective cocoon around me as I ride out the rest of my panic attack. Every so often he taps his fingers against my chest, like he’s giving instructions to my heart—just a simple one-two beat that has my mouth twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Why’d you do that?” I finally manage to croak. Exhaustion settles over me, turning my limbs into jelly. He doesn’t have to ask what I mean. “Do you really need to ask?” “Gonna kick your ass as soon as I can move again,” I mumble. I feel a smile form against my skin. “Holdin’ you to it.”

It’s okay to be angry sometimes, my Sunshine Boy. It’s okay to be sad and scared too. Even the sun needs a break sometimes—it’s why it has the moon to help out every night.”

“I like myself a whole lot better when I’m with you.”

“You didn’t make anything worse, Will,” I tell him after a long, quiet moment. “You woke me up, that’s all. You brought me back to life.”

“You make me want to hang on and fight. You make me believe I stand a chance. You. No one else. You.”

“All there’s left in me is… is you, and I don’t even know if that makes sense. But it’s you. It’s always been you.”

It’s Waylon’s. It’s all Waylon’s because he loves me—me! Finally!—and being loved by him is all I’ve ever wanted, so excuse me if I’m nothing more than a puddle of mush right now.

“I am stupidly, insanely in love with you.”

“Hell, I’ve loved you,” I go on deeply, my voice bottoming out with a grave sort of certainty, “in some capacity, for what feels like my entire life. Before I even knew what love was, I’ve been loving you.” I choke out a watery laugh as I stroke his cool cheeks with my thumbs. “Do you really think I could stop, even if I tried? God, I’ve wanted you in my life since the second you first glared at me and gave me some bullshit about how boys can’t cry.”

“Still beating, Way?” I whisper, spreading a hand right over the center of his chest. He brings one of his up to my chest, mirroring my position. “I told you,” he says deeply. “So long as I have the will to live…” I swallow hard, fingers digging into his skin, and I murmur against his lips. “There’ll always be a way.” I’ll find it. Always. I’ll always find… Him.

I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too. Feels how fucking timeless we are. How fucking endless.

“yes, it’s fucking weird. You’re weird. The weirdest weirdo that ever weirded.”

“One day, I’m gonna hold your hand in public, and not feel like I’m dying when I do it.”

“It’s not your job to love who brought you into this world unconditionally. It’s the other way around. You don’t owe me anything.”

I still might have no fucking clue what I’m gonna do with the rest of my life, but if there is one thing I am sure I was born to do, it’s love you.

“I feel bad for those who never find what we have. But I feel even worse for those who do and never let themselves love as much as I love you.”

“Life’s for the living, and the living make out. Trust me, they like seeing it. I asked.”

But maybe that’s the secret. No one loses when the only objective is to out-love the other. Win-fucking-win.

Hell, maybe that’s what love is. Just moments stacked on moments that we never want to end. Isn’t that how this all started after all?