25. Oakley

Chapter 25

Oakley

" I can't stand to be in this house while he's here," Jeremiah spits out, rage and anguish twisting his features as he enters his bedroom. "Come on, we're going to go for a drive." His voice cracks under the weight of his emotions, eyes burning with anger and sadness that cuts through me like a knife.

I can't just stand by and do nothing. His father is an ass, always has been and most likely always will be, but I still don't want to be the reason he and Jeremiah are fighting. I step closer to Jeremiah, reaching out to touch his arm gently. "Pretty boy," I say softly, trying to infuse my voice with as much understanding and concern as I can muster, "you don't have to do this for me. I don't want to be the reason?—"

Jeremiah cuts me off by covering my fingers with his own. He looks down at my hand on his arm, then back up at me. The torment in his eyes makes my heart ache. He's always been so strong, but right now, he looks like he's barely holding it together.

My breath hitches as I look into his eyes, feeling the weight of his emotions pressing against me like a tangible force. His gaze is filled with so much love, it feels like it's branding itself onto my soul. The world around us fades away, leaving just the two of us in this moment.

"The reason for everything I do," he continues, his voice gaining strength, "is you. Every single thing. I promise you, bunny, nothing else in this world matters to me." His words wrap around me, and for the first time in years I actually feel what love feels like. My parents were just there, existing, and my anger with Royce has eclipsed my emotions. The room seems to close in, making every word, every breath shared between us as one.

Jeremiah's lips crash into mine with a force that leaves me breathless. The taste of him floods my senses—warm, intoxicating, and utterly consuming. His hands, strong, slide down to grip my waist, pulling me closer. Every second our lips are locked together, I feel this all-consuming love. His large hands cup my ass, pulling me into his body like he wants to mesh us together.

"Jeremiah," I gasp against his mouth, but he doesn't let up. He kisses me like he's trying to etch himself into my very soul. I have to push up on my tiptoes even though he's leaning down to my height. My hands find their way to the back of his neck, fingers linking together right beneath the stubble of his hair that's starting to grow out. The world outside fades into obscurity; it's just us.

"C'mon Oak, we gotta get outta here," he murmurs, his voice husky with need and urgency. With a gentle yet firm hold on my hand, he pulls me away from the room.

"Where are we going?" I ask as we briskly walk down the dim corridor of the house, the opulence of it now feeling more like a gilded cage than a home. The Robert Blackwood effect .

"Back to where it all began," he says ambiguously, glancing at me with anticipation in his green eyes. A small, enigmatic smile plays on his lips, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

"Jeremiah, you can't just say something like that and not explain," I press, my curiosity getting the better of me. "How long have you been planning this?" I ask skeptically, because I don't buy for a second that he thought of this just because his dad showed up and made him mad.

"I've wanted to take you somewhere for a while," he replies, his tone teasing but tinged with something deeper. "Today's the perfect night."

We emerge from the mansion into the cool fall air with Jeremiah holding both of our jackets. The sky is a hazy gray, and you can almost sense the impending rain. Jeremiah's bike waits for us, sleek, black and green Ducati Streetfighter Lamborghini. I only know that's what it was because Penn was bitching about it the other night. I just knew the color and how it feels to be on the back of it previously.

He grabs my helmet and places it on my head, his fingers brushing against my skin as he secures the strap. Always taking care of me, even little tasks that I'm perfectly capable of doing myself. I let him though, because I truly think he does enjoy it. My breath catches as his eyes lock onto mine for a beat before he pulls back, strapping on his own helmet with practiced ease.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

"Always," I reply, my heart pounding in anticipation as I slip into my black leather he left for me on my seat.

Jeremiah swings his leg over the motorcycle with a fluid grace that leaves me momentarily breathless. He glances back at me, holds his hand out with the invitation clear in his eyes. I grab hold of him and climb on, wrapping my arms around his waist, and slipping my hands underneath the leathers and his shirt, feeling the solid strength beneath my palms. The engine roars to life, a powerful vibration that reverberates through my bones.

As we speed away, the world blurs around us. The wind whips through my hair, carrying with it the scent of decaying pine and asphalt. My grip tightens around Jeremiah, pressing myself closer to him, feeling the heat of his body seep into mine.

"Where are we going?" I shout over the roar of the engine, my voice tinged with exhilaration.

"Just trust me, Oakley," he calls back, his voice barely audible over the wind.

The city lights fade behind us as we ride, the landscape shifting to familiar territory. My heart skips a beat when I recognize the route. Our high school looms ahead and memories flood my mind, bittersweet and vivid. The place where it all began, indeed.

"Jeremiah…" I whisper, the name a blend of nostalgia and longing.

"Hold on tight," he says, his voice softer now, laden with unspoken promises.

We pull up to the school; the bike coming to a smooth halt. The silence is almost too much to handle after the rush of the ride. Jeremiah dismounts first, offering me his hand. As I take it, our fingers intertwine, grounding me in him. We leave our helmets and jackets on the bike and stand there staring at Bridgehead High.

"Why here?" I ask, my voice trembling with so many emotions, I can't possibly pick just one .

"Because this is where everything changed for me, bunny," he replies, his eyes dark with intensity. "I knew there would never be anyone other than you for me all the way back then."

"You did?" I ask, confusion mingling with curiosity.

"It's always been you. I keep trying to tell you that," he repeats, pulling me closer, his breath warm against my ear.

His words wrap around me like a protective cocoon, and despite the uncertainty, I feel a flicker of hope. We stand there for a moment, locked in each other's gaze, the weight of our past pressing down on us.

"Let's go," Jeremiah says finally, his voice a gentle command.

"I'll let you lead," I reply, my heart pounding with anticipation as he tugs me toward the back of the school.

Jeremiah's fingers work the lock, each click and clack echoing, and I glance around, waiting for us to be caught. The air is cool, but my skin tingles with anticipation. I watch him, biting my lip as he works. His intense focus is almost hypnotic.

"You're pretty good at this," I whisper, my voice barely audible in the stillness. The echo of our high school days surrounds us, both comforting and eerie.

"I'm a Blackwood, after all," he shoots back with a smirk, not taking his eyes off the lock. A final, satisfying click, and the door swings open. "Penn taught me," he finally admits with a shoulder shrug, and I'm not surprised at the revelation.

"After you," he says, stepping aside and sweeping an arm in a mock-gentlemanly gesture.

"Such a charmer," I murmur, slipping past him. The darkened halls feel different, shadows stretching long and memories lurking around every corner. My heart pounds louder than our footsteps.

"Where to?" I ask, glancing back at him. I don't even feel the jittery need to ask if he thinks this is okay, if we'll get caught, if we'll be in trouble. With Jeremiah, I don't have to worry about anything. He wouldn't let anything happen to me.

"Follow me," he replies, his voice low and magnetic. He grabs my hand, and we move together. We ascend staircases and Jeremiah's grip on my hand steadies me, anchors me.

"Almost there," he says, pushing open a door that leads to the roof. The sudden gust of wind makes me shiver, but the sight before me steals my breath.

The football field and then the crop of trees that surround Bridgehead span in front of us and you can just barely see the tops of houses on the other side of the woods. I hear music start to play and I glance back to see he's set his phone up on one of the ledges. The sounds of Chappell Roan reach my ears and I'm shocked he's playing pop music, but I guess I shouldn't be. He knows she's my favorite artists' favorite artist.

"Wow," I breathe, stepping forward.

"Figured you'd like it," Jeremiah says, coming up behind me. His hands find my waist, pulling me close. His warmth seeps into me, making my heart race.

"You're full of surprises," I say, leaning into him. His scent—earthy, musky, familiar—wraps around me, grounding me.

"Just wait," he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. "I've got more in store."

"Promises, promises," I tease, turning in his arms to face him .

"Oakley," he says softly, his voice deep and raw. "I need you to know everything I do is for you. To protect you."

I don't say anything in return because I don't have the words. I lean back against him, fully allowing him to hold my weight. I need him to know that I trust him now in a way that I didn't before. I trust him with my life, and I can't say that about a singular other soul in this world.

"Remember how we used to sneak up here during school hours?" I ask, tracing the lines of the skyline with my eyes. "We thought we were invincible."

Jeremiah replies, his breath warm against my neck, "Back when things were simpler. Or at least seemed that way."

"Who would've thought we'd end up here again?" I continue, a wistful smile playing on my lips. "So much has changed since those days."

"Everything's different now," he agrees, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "But some things never change."

"Like what?" I turn to look at him, curiosity flickering in my eyes.

"Like how I've always needed you," he says, his gaze intense. "How I'll always need you."

"Jeremiah," I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. The weight of his words hanging heavy in the air between us.

"Oakley," he says, pulling me closer. "You don't have to say anything. Just let me hold you."

He lets me go before he sits down, back up against the roof's short wall, and he tugs my hand until I stumble and settle on his lap. Our bodies fit together perfectly, as if we were made for each other. The sensation of his strong arms around me, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, fills me with a sense of completeness I've never known before.

"Is this real?" I murmur, my fingers tracing the contours of his face. "It feels like a dream."

"It's real," he assures me, his voice a soothing balm. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?" I ask, needing to hear it again.

"Promise," he says, sealing it with a kiss that makes my heart flutter.

As we sit there, the world fades away. All that matters is this moment, the feeling of being right where we belong.

"Let's stay here forever," I say, knowing it's impossible but wishing for it all the same.

"Forever might be a long time," he teases, a hint of a smile curving his lips. "But I wouldn't mind trying."

"Yea, me neither," I reply, my heart swelling with hope and love.

As we lean in for another kiss, the clouds above seem to part letting small rays of sunshine in, as if they too are witnesses to the magic of him and I. And for the first time in a long while, I feel truly, deeply happy.

I see the pain in his eyes, a mirror of my own. "I made mistakes," he admits, each word trembling. "Leaving you…it was the biggest one. I want to spend the rest of my life making that up to you."

It feels like I'm caught between wanting to console him and needing to hear more. He cups my face, his touch sending electric chills down my spine. "I'm so sorry, bunny. I need you to believe it."

"You're here now," I murmur, pressing my forehead against his. The warmth of our closeness, the mingling of our breaths—it feels like reclaiming something lost.

"I love you. I need you to know that. You don't have to say it back, but—" his fingers dig deeper into my flesh, almost as if he's afraid I'm going to run away from him.

"Shut up," I cut him off, my voice choked with emotion. "I love you too, pretty boy."

The confession bursts from me, raw and unfiltered. It's as if we're pouring all our pain, love, and promises into this moment.

His hands roam my body, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. The world fades away, leaving just this.

That's the thing about Jeremiah Blackwood. He always knows what I need.