CH 37: Where the Past Whispers, Ghosts Still Burn

Renee drew in a shaky breath, the air in the loft thick with heat, whiskey, and unspoken things. She licked her lips and looked at both of them—Jake with his barely-contained heartache, Mike with his steady gaze that somehow made her feel safe and exposed all at once. “Yes,” she said softly, “I’ve thought about it. About both of you.” Jake’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "But only in theory,” she added quickly. “Only if it were… real. If it were sober, deliberate. If everyone involved actually wanted it and it wasn’t a half-drunk mistake we’d regret in the morning.”
Mike’s lips quirked into something like a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Fair enough,” he said. “Takes guts to say that.” Renee turned to him, her brow furrowed. “You’re really okay with this? With everything?” Mike nodded, his fingers brushing hers again. “I told you, I’m not afraid of your past. Or your curiosity. You’re not a possession, Renee. You’re a person. And I love every messy, thoughtful part of you.” That word—love—landed in her chest like thunder and silk at the same time. Jake shifted awkwardly, like he was intruding on a moment not meant for him. The spell was breaking. The night had reached a strange, soft stillness. Renee cleared her throat. “We should get inside. It’s late.”

The walk back to the house was quiet, the three of them moving like ghosts through the cool night air. Renee led the way up the creaky steps, the tension not quite dissolved, just hidden beneath their footsteps. She paused in the hallway, gesturing toward the small guest room at the end. “You can take the spare room, Jake,” she said, giving him a tired smile. Jake nodded, stepping past her. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” But just as he passed Mike, something shifted. It wasn’t anything obvious. Mike didn’t speak, didn’t flinch. But his jaw tightened. His shoulders squared ever so slightly. And though his face stayed composed, his eyes—those calm, deep eyes—followed Jake a beat too long. Renee noticed.
Her heart stuttered. Mike still had her hand in his, but now it felt less like comfort and more like possession. Or maybe fear. She waited until Jake’s door clicked softly shut, then turned to Mike. “You say you’re okay… but are you?” He looked at her for a long moment, then leaned in and kissed her forehead. It was tender, grounding. But not quite reassuring. “I want to be but honestly,” he said honestly. “I will be...” They went to Renee's room and went straight to bed, once the blankets pulled over them it took Mike no time to fall asleep. Renee however, took a lot longer to drift off and when she did, the dream was not fun or exciting.

The house was still, cloaked in the hush of early morning. Renee tossed in the sheets, her skin damp with sweat, her mind tangled in threads of memory and guilt. In the dream, Mike was walking away from her—his back receding into the fog of the loft, her voice screaming his name but no sound came. And Jake was there, watching her with those aching, knowing eyes. He reached for her, but the moment she touched him, he turned to ash in her hands. She jolted awake with a gasp, sitting upright in the dark, breath hitching. The room felt too quiet. Too close. Slipping from bed, Renee padded down the stairs barefoot, her heart still racing. In the kitchen, she filled a glass of water and took a long sip, the cool liquid doing little to settle the storm churning inside her. She leaned against the counter, closed her eyes, and exhaled. Just a dream. That’s all. She turned to head back upstairs—And froze.

Jake was standing there in the hallway. Silent. Shirtless. Barefoot. Just watching her. The dim moonlight from the window outlined the tension in his shoulders, the weight in his expression. He didn’t speak. Neither did she. The glass in her hand trembled slightly. “Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. Jake’s eyes met hers, and in them she saw the same unease, the same ache that had followed her into her dreams. “No,” he said softly. “Not with everything still unsaid.” And just like that, the air between them thickened again—too full of memory, of longing, of everything that hadn’t been buried deep enough. Renee didn’t move. Couldn’t. Jake’s voice had cracked something wide open inside her, and all she could do was stand there, her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding loud enough to drown out everything else.

“I still love you, Renee,” he said, and the words didn’t land—they shattered. “I never stopped. Even when I tried. Even when I thought I hated you for moving on... I was just angry that I let you slip away.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Renee blinked, and her vision blurred. Tears welled in her eyes without warning, burning hot behind her lashes. She couldn’t speak. Not a single word. Her throat closed around everything she wanted to say—how dare you say that now, why did you leave, why did it still hurt so much—but all of it stayed buried under the swell of grief rising in her chest. Jake saw the shift in her. His brow furrowed, confusion flickering into pain as he took in the tears she was trying not to let fall. He took a half step closer, his breath catching as he reached for her cheek, fingers trembling as they brushed just beneath her eye. “God, Renee…” he breathed, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—I couldn’t leave without saying it.” Her lips parted like she might finally speak, but nothing came out. She was crumbling in front of him, the months, the distance, the wounds resurfacing all at once. The sound of his voice saying love—after all this time—wasn’t healing. It was devastating.

And maybe it was that devastation that drove him forward. He kissed her. Soft, trembling, like an apology carved into skin. His lips met hers with desperate gentleness, his hands cupping her face as if she might disappear if he let go. And she didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. Her hands curled weakly into the fabric of his shirt, her eyes still burning, her heart tearing itself apart in the quiet. The kiss wasn’t a reunion—it was a storm. A collapse. A final exhale of everything they had once been. When they finally pulled apart, the air between them was fractured and still. Renee’s face was streaked with tears, her hands trembling at her sides. Jake was breathing hard, his eyes filled with something shattered. She didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

He stepped back slowly, the weight of what had just happened crashing down on both of them. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just… I couldn’t leave without remembering how it felt.” Renee stood there in silence, drowning in the memory of his mouth on hers, her heart aching for all the wrong reasons.
Upstairs, the house remained quiet. But nothing—nothing—felt still anymore.Renee pulled him into another kiss, her fingers tangled in his shirt. When it broke, she didn’t run—she just stood there, staring at him.