"Well, I thought you were… involved… with Bella." I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to slap my forehead with my palm. "Obviously, I jumped to a conclusion. A stupid, stupid conclusion."

He nodded, the oppressive fear of rejection letting up a bit. "And?"

"And?" I bit my lip, deciding the best way to do this was quickly. "I almost slept with Max."

I mentally counted to three, waiting for Nathan to explode. He did, but not as I expected. With a howl of laughter, he fell sideways off the bed.

"Nathan! It's not funny!" I pounded the mattress. "I almost slept with Max!"

Peering over the edge of the bed, I saw Nathan wipe tears of laughter from his eyes. "Oh, I heard you. I bet it was dead romantic, too."

"Oh, shut up," I admonished with an involuntary laugh. "I can't believe I thought you slept with Bella."

"I can't believe you did, either. I can barely stand her. Do you know she chews her toenails? I mean, she doesn't clip them off like normal people, she puts her foot in her mouth and chews them!" He shuddered in disgust. "I thought you'd give me a little more credit."

Our laughter subsided into charged silence. Nathan sat up, resting his forearm on the bed as he studied me "Carrie, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to. If you don't want to come home, tell me."

Nome . Our home. My chest squeezed as though it would suddenly collapse. My mind raced for some proof that this was an elaborate trick to break my heart again. "I do want to come home. But I can't promise I'll wait for you. It's too unfair to ask that of me. So… "

"So?" he asked, a reluctant smile quirking the corner of his mouth.

I hated to kill the happy expression that might grow there. "So, I'll think about it."

His smile held the promise of happiness. Realistic happiness, but still, more happiness than we'd had. "Carrie?"

The way he said my name, the way it sounded heavy and meaningful on his lips, gave me chills up my spine. "What?"

"I've been dying to kiss you."

At those words, the chills ran straight from my spine to my stomach, raced down my arms and pulled a soft, "Oh," from my throat. I swallowed thickly and nodded, wetting my lips, which had become suddenly parched in anticipation.

Wordlessly, he climbed into bed beside me and we kissed as though we'd never done it before. Not because it was clumsy and awkward, but because there was more to it on both ends than there ever bad been. There was a fierceness in him I'd never experienced before, not born of desperation, or fear of losing me, as when I'd first become his fledgling. It was something between determination-determination to let go and make this right—and confidence I would be there when all was said and done.