All Chapters of RECKLESS DESIRES: THE ODEN LEGACY : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

"You're shaking," Amiriam murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper in the still quiet of the rooftop.Luke stood beside her, leaning against the cool metal railing while the city lights flickered to life below them. Sunset had hemorrhaged into gentle twilight, casting dusky gold over her face. He didn't answer immediately—just let the silence stretch out between them like a thread under tension."I'm not scared," he eventually said, then laughed low and harsh beneath his breath. "Well. perhaps a bit. Not of you. Just what this implies."Amiriam's fingers touched his. The contact was light, gentle. She didn't move him nearer to her or urge him to speak. She merely stood with him, her presence steady like the skyline at their backs."Then don't say anything yet," she said, her eyes on the horizon. "Let's just be here. Let's just breathe."Luke closed his eyes and exhaled. He had been holding his breath, he realized. Maybe for weeks. Maybe for years.He hadn't intended the rooftop.

"Are you sure that you want to do this tonight?" Amiriam asked quietly, her voice breaking the stillness of the evening.Luke glanced over at her as they walked slowly down the gravel driveway that headed into the garden behind the Oden estate. "I've been sure for a while. Just never finding the nerve to bring you here."The stillness of night closed around them like a cloak. Scent of jasmine and roses mixed with the sweet, damp musk of wetted earth. It was peaceful—too peaceful, it seemed, for what lingered in the air between them.Amiriam looked straight. Lanterns glowed softly among the hedges, as if ready to watch something sacred. "Your mother's garden?"Luke nodded. "Yeah. She did all the flower planting herself. Even when she was sick, she'd come out here. Said it helped her breathing."Amiriam hesitated. "I remember her hands. They were always filthy. She'd still ask you for a cup of tea like nothing was wrong."He laughed a short, almost-sentimental laugh. "She was like that.

"I'm just saying," Richard replied, leaning back against the kitchen counter, grinning at her, "if you're going to keep making pancakes like that, you could just marry me."Rita rolled her eyes and slapped the last of the pancakes onto the growing stack. "You flirt like a boy who hasn't had a serious relationship since kindergarten."And I eat like one, too," he replied, snatching a strawberry from the bowl beside her. "So technically, I'm consistent."Amiriam, who was seated at the breakfast nook with Luke and James, nearly choked on her orange juice laughing. "Richard, stop. You're going to scare her off.""She's not scared," Richard said confidently. "She's impressed. Look at her eyes. That's admiration."Rita gave him a slow, unimpressed stare. "That's irritating. Learn the difference.".Luke chuckled as he passed James another slice of toast. “Don’t mind him, Rita. Richard’s version of flirting is just persistent stand-up comedy.”“And you’re all lucky to witness it firsthand,” R

"You received the offer, didn't you?" Luke murmured.Amiriam did not glance over her shoulder. She was standing in the window of her flat, the light of the evening spilling through the glass and burning gold on the tips of her curls. Her fingers tensed on the letter held in her hand."Yes," she said finally. "It came this morning."Luke drew closer, his voice quiet but even. "Where is it?“Chicago. Lead research coordinator for the Mental Health Equity Initiative.” Her voice trembled slightly, but she caught it before it cracked. “It’s what I’ve been working toward for years.”Silence stretched between them.“And?” Luke prompted gently.Amiriam turned to face him. There were no tears in her eyes, just clarity—the kind that comes after weathering too many storms. “And I’m scared.”Luke took another step toward her. “Of leaving?”No," she replied, "of wanting to go."His gaze probed hers, stillness comprehension settling over him. He held out his hand but still did not touch her. "Then

"I declined."There was a serenity to Amiriam's tone, like the final note of a song so over-rehearsed, yet close. Luke paused, half-filled the coffee into two chipped ceramic mugs on her kitchen top. His hand remained suspended. The scent of cinnamon and something sugary hung in the air, but he could only think of her.He spun around slowly. "The offer?"She nodded. "The one in Chicago."Luke set the coffee pot down, brows pulling together. "But it was your dream position. The nonprofit with the national education initiative, right?""Right."He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he handed her a mug and leaned against the counter, eyes scanning her face for answers she hadn’t offered yet."Why?" he asked.She blew lightly over her cup, watching the steam curl. "Because for the first time, I’m not running."He blinked. "Running from what?""From my past. My hurt. My own fear of never being enough wherever I went." She set down the mug without sipping it. "I always thought healing was g