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  I’m not ready for this conversation. I step forward, shoving my hand confidently into the front of his snug jeans pocket to grab his house keys. It’s a quick move that happens so lightning fast, he can barely keep up before he’s chasing me to his front door.

  “Hailey, why won’t you talk about it?”

  I unlock his door, fling the wooden monstrosity open, angry all at once. “You don’t get to ask me about who I kiss.”

  “I knew it. You did kiss him. I saw you walk off with him.” His tone is soft and wanting, and more than anything, hurt.

  It’s entirely unfair, and what’s worse about this interaction is that I don’t know how I got here, but I’m leaning against the open doorframe, and he’s suddenly towering over me with this defeated look. It calls to me on this deep level, and I try to fight it.

  I hate that even like this, in limbo between misery and a beautiful chaos, I still feel satiated. I still feel content. As long as it’s Caiden. It doesn’t matter what I’m feeling. He fills the void just by being near me.

  I reply quietly but firmly, “I don’t know why you’re acting like you’re the tormented one, because you’re not, Caiden, trust me on this one.”

  “Funny, that’s what Brandon said.”

  I don’t find this funny, but something cracks inside me, like a dam holding it all back at hearing his words. That something suddenly builds and gathers like a tsunami, and if I don’t touch him in some way, it’ll come crashing down. I need a little bit of contact as if to make sure he’s real. That we’re real.

  I lift my hand to his face, brushing my fingers over the thick scruff of his jaw for the first time, basking in its roughness, my thumb falling dangerously close to his bruised bottom lip.

  Watching me carefully, his eyes burn a path through mine and straight into my heart, like it’s his lifeline. He shifts his face just enough to press a surprising kiss to the pad of my thumb and then takes it into his mouth to nibble it gently. The wave building inside me reaches its peak of momentum and crashes within, engulfing and amplifying all these feelings he elicits: pain, love, hate, lust, frustration; it’s all there. And the calm of the crash, or lack thereof, nestles itself between my legs in a pool of warmth.

  It’s as if we share the same nerve endings, because the right sides of our mouths twitch upward in unison as we stare back in the silence. I suck in a breath, watching his teeth sit delicately against my thumb, not releasing it.

  The urge to tell him the truth is ready to be unleashed. I want to tell him how I can’t kiss anyone else without thinking about how they pale in comparison to his lips. I want to tell him my biggest worry is that there will never be someone else who can replace him, and instead this churning pain at the fact his perfect mouth isn’t mine is just something I’m going to have to endure for eternity.

  “This is what I mean. It’s torture,” I breathe out, hoping he’s taking me seriously. Because I mean every damn word.

  Caiden is a consuming person. We used to consume each other, and to know that even the lightest of touch causes the tiniest but most meaningful reaction kind of destroys me. This touch means more than that stupid kiss earlier with Gabe.

  This is when I remember those three little words. Let. Me. Go.

  “Caid, get some rest,” I force through my lips in a whisper, trying to regain my bearings.

  He blows out a defeated breath as his eyes sink closed while I pull away and walk back toward my car, leaving him.

  When I pull out of the driveway, he’s still frozen to the spot, standing in the doorway with his eyes clenched shut.

  Chapter Nine

  I called CeeCee when I didn’t know what else to do. Last night was a failed attempt at sleep, and I’m feeling it.

  The morning took an awkward turn when I got a delivery that I should have expected, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. That’s when I phoned a friend.

  So when CeeCee walks through my front door without knocking, I don’t budge. I’m just sitting on my couch, staring at the urn sitting on my coffee table as if it’s staring back at me.

  “Oh, Lord. Hailey, are you okay?”

  I want to tell her I’m currently having an out-of-body experience that borders on overwhelming as my mind is continuously trying to manage all these emotions and thoughts that knot and tangle around each other forming an emotional ball of yarn. I snicker at the thought. My mom loved knitting. Seems ironic as I stare at her ashes.

  CeeCee plops beside me on the couch. “Hailey?” she questions again.

  “Yeah?” I ask, keeping my eyes on what is terrifyingly explained as my mother in a jar. I rise from my seat at the thought, hating it, wanting to cry, and losing my mind in the process. Then I plop back onto the couch. This time CeeCee’s arms come around my shoulders in a hug.

  But I don’t cry. For some reason I can’t. I just lean into her touch, wishing everything was different and that my heart didn’t skip a beat for Caiden, yet weep with a slowing thump for my mother.

  I’m a mess.

  “Say something. Anything,” CeeCee squeaks.

  “I’ll be fine. I’m just in shock.”

  CeeCee releases a breath of relief. “I was worried you were going to become an emotional mute. I know this must be hard.”

  I nod. “It is, but it’s getting through the first wave that’s the hardest. I don’t know how I lost track of the days, but I somehow forgot that my mom’s ashes were going to be delivered today.”

  “I’m sure there has been a lot on your mind.”

  Her tone implies she knows exactly what has been on my mind. I rise from the couch. “You want some coffee?”

  “Sure,” she says, getting up and following me into the kitchen, taking a seat on a bar stool on the other side of the counter island. “You wanna talk about it, Hails? I figured that’s why you called me over. Unless you just need me to be a silent sounding board. Contrary to popular belief, I can do that, too.”

  I pull coffee grounds from the cabinet, turning my head to shoot her an honest smile. “Bit of both, actually. How did your drive with Brandon go last night?”

  She sighs. “Not good. I’m about to tell him we need to take a timeout.”

  Needing a distraction from the urn sitting in my living room, I use this topic as my opportunity. “Why did you never tell me about Brandon cheating on you?”

  She gasps, eyes wide as if I had just uttered the name Voldemort in Diagon Alley. “How do you even know about that?”

  I feel guilty that I asked, and turn to the coffee maker, filling it up and powering it on before turning to face her. “Caiden told me.”

  “Well, it’s nice to know you two are at least talking.” She rolls her eyes.

  I shake my head. “We don’t have to talk about it. I was just surprised to hear it. I noticed you and Brandon have been a bit… on edge lately.”

  She snorts. “Yeah, it always ends up like this. We can talk about it, I mean. It all happened at a really weird time for all of us.” She pauses, chewing her bottom lip as if she’s about to walk a precarious line with her words. “Ya know, just because you left doesn’t mean that while you were gone you didn’t still affect us. That’s why having you back is so easy. Even if we missed you or wondered what you were doing, you were still part of us.”

  My brows twitch, my eyes blinking a little too rapidly to hold back the tears that want to appear.

  She continues, “Caiden wasn’t the same when you left, and although he was trying, he’d go through these constant peaks and dives that were rough. Brandon and Caiden have this way of dragging each other into their miseries… and joys, too, but mostly they like being there for each other for those extremes. Brandon and me dated for a little over a year after you left, but we hit this terrible rough patch. It was when I was failing all my college classes and Brandon was trying to figure out what to do with his life. This also happened to be during one of Caiden’s emotional peaks.” She grits her teeth a moment. “I don’t know how much I
should say, but Caiden was getting reckless. At first when you left he was pretty solitary when it came to girls. He never went out of his way to flirt or date, but then something in him snapped. He was the guy of extremes. He started fucking around. He’d find a new bed to sleep in every other weekend with a different girl. It didn’t matter who.”

  I wince. I didn’t expect this part. What’s worse is, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I went through the same series of experiences when I moved. When the empty kisses weren’t enough, I’d jump into the beds of men I thought I wanted more with, but everything always fell flat. Not that there were a lot, by any means. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said writing can be a solitary life. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t try.

  Regardless of my own, what did CeeCee call them? Oh yeah, my ‘emotional peaks,’ I still want to understand where Caiden’s behavior came from, but the rational part of me wants to hate that I do.

  “Caiden convinced Brandon and the other guys to enroll in the fire academy around this time, which in hindsight is of course a good thing. But at the time it also sparked this weird wave of a need for bachelor life, especially with Caiden leading the cavalry. And like I said, I wasn’t the funnest person to be around. Because I was failing my classes, I was lashing out at Brandon in all the wrong ways. We got into a huge fight about how everything he does isn’t good enough. We needed a break from each other, so he left to go spend time with Caiden, who was on a no-strings-attached binge. They decided to have a long bro’s weekend in Boulder. All the guys went, and I was left at home. After a couple of days went by and not hearing from Brandon I started to worry, and I wanted to apologize for being so bipolar and mean—‘cuz ya know, I can be mean when I want to be. I called the Sunday morning before Brandon was supposed to drive back. We hadn’t talked since our argument, but when I called, a girl answered his phone. And then it was just over.”

  “Over?”

  She shrugs, but her eyes darken sadly. “Yeah. There was no going back for me. The damage was done. And it was exactly what I thought it was. He got sad, he got stupid and drank way too much, and he made a stupid decision. But some choices are irreversible. We weren’t broken up at the time. I just wanted some space. There’s a difference, and the damage was just too much. What would stop him from doing that again when we go through another rough patch? I don’t think I could take it.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” I plead, eyeing her in shock.

  “It felt too complicated. If I called, I wasn’t going to be able to hold back all this hatred I had for Caiden, too. I blamed him for feeding into Brandon’s stupidity. He’s still supposed to be a good friend to me too. He should have stood up for what was right, but instead he let his best friend cheat on his girlfriend, and all because he was still trying to get over you!” CeeCee stumbles over her next words, as if she wishes she could take the last bit back. I must admit, it does sting. “Anyway, I couldn’t call and dump that on you. It wouldn’t have been fair.”

  “You still never called,” I say, turning away from her as I pour our coffees.

  “Neither did you.” She pulls in a deep breath and gives me a tight smile as she takes a mug from my outstretched hand. “We’re both at fault. There’s no grudge. Life moved on. But, just so you know, you have always been a part of what’s here. Ya know, it’s almost like you could stay if you want.”

  What a preposterous idea.

  I sip my coffee slowly, trying not to freak out. Right now, there are so many reasons for me to leave, not to stay. Although, I acknowledge some of the happier moments so far have been an awakening to what it feels like to laugh again, even with all the rooted drama.

  I shake my head. “Staying is a thought, but for right now there are other things on my mind. I just want to take my time with everything. There aren’t any time constraints, and that’s good enough for me.” I can feel my shoulders tense, but maybe it’s because my answer reminds me that my only time constraint is finishing my next novel.

  Her goading smirk tells me she knows she’s messing with my head. “How’s everything else? I was right in assuming you’re still sleeping on the couch.”

  “Yep. I’m just trying to get my bearings, that’s all.”

  She laughs, leaning over the counter. “How’s that working out for you?”

  I throw my head back and laugh, too. “Terrible. Absolutely, awful.” I giggle. “I’m a train-wreck and so is Cai—”

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  My brows rise as I stare into CeeCee’s eyes. She’s forming a guilty smile that has my stomach doing a somersault.

  I place my cup on the counter. “What did you do?”

  She shrugs as my vision drops to my attire. I roll my eyes knowing that my jeans and white tank are just going to have to do, and as I walk out of the kitchen, I’m hoping my instincts are all wrong.

  Unfortunately, they’re not.

  Caiden stands on the opposite side of the screen door, boldly staring at me, snuggling Soot against his chest. My knees turn useless at the sight. He’s not what I need right now.

  I release a heavy breath, shaking my head, which ignites his smirk. Shouldn’t he be cowering, hiding, or pissed off at me somewhere? Why can’t he just be mad at me?

  “Hi,” I say, just barely loud enough for him to hear. I gulp down my nerves. “What are you doing here? I can’t say your face is one I particularly care for at the moment.”

  On reflex and in Midwestern hospitality, I open the door to let him inside. He scoots by me, careful not to touch me, clutching the cat close as he enters the living room. His eyes immediately fall to my open suitcase in the same spot he last saw it. It’s his grimace that worries me most, but the involuntary stroke under the cat’s chin that melts my heart.

  CeeCee comes strolling out, her purse already slung over her shoulder. “I should probably be going.”

  “Going? Where are you going?” I swivel to turn to Caiden. “And you never answered me. What are you doing here?”

  He shrugs as CeeCee continues to make her way to the front door. He says, “I heard you were having trouble going through the house and stuff, and… and…”

  “And what?” I bark, putting the pieces together, realizing CeeCee must have told him how I’ve been doing.

  “And to say…”

  “—That you’re sorry?” I question, cutting him off, and I can’t help the sputter of a laugh that follows. Last night was a disaster. His lips still feel tattooed on my thumb, and even I can admit how absurd that sounds.

  His lips tighten into a squirming smile. “Yeah, kinda.”

  “Well, are you? Sorry, that is?” I ask, letting my eyes scan the length of him, examining his fitted olive shirt and dark jeans, complete with an adorable white cat pressed against his chest. It’s too much.

  He shrugs, smiling at my expense now. “No, not really.”

  I snort, rubbing my face, taking in all the ridiculousness. “Please put that cat down. I can’t take you seriously when you hold cute animals.”

  He laughs. I laugh. CeeCee even laughs.

  Caiden releases Soot, who quickly heads back out the front door for his afternoon snack. CeeCee follows as she says, “Well, I’m going to let you two hash it out. Talk to you lovebirds later.”

  I could strangle her, and she must know it because she doesn’t glance back at me as she scurries to her car.

  When I turn back around to shoot Caiden a well-crafted glare, I’m surprised to see his eyes already glued to the rustic silver urn sitting on my coffee table.

  My face softens because I understand that look so completely, and I can’t tell if I love the fact that he might understand how I feel.