Neither one of them was trying to enable me as much as they were trying to get me through the visit without outing my addiction. Something only the children of an alcoholic could understand.

Tyler led me up the stairs by the hand, and then down the hall to his bedroom.

“Where will Taylor sleep?” I asked.

“The couch,” he answered.

I tipped the bottle in my hand. “Abby doesn’t miss anything, does she?”

“Nope. She’s definitely the matriarch of the family, and once you’re in, she has your back.”

“She’s keeping your secret, too,” I said.

Tyler reached back with one arm and pulled his T-shirt over his head. My eyes scanned the rise and fall of each muscle in his torso. He was already gaining back the weight he’d lost hiking countless miles in the mountains over the summer, looking like his old self and filling out nicely.

“What do you mean?” he asked, tossing me his shirt.

“She knows you’re not in insurance. You basically outed yourself when you told her about my feature.”

“Nah,” he said, unbuttoning his jeans.

I set down my beer and undressed, slipping his shirt quickly over my head. By the time Tyler had stripped down to his boxer briefs, he looked at me with a half-smile.

“I was hoping you’d do that.”

“Well, I knew you didn’t give it to me to wash.”

He laughed once, but his smile quickly faded. “What did you and Abby talk about outside?”

I shrugged, fidgeting with the bottom hem of Tyler’s shirt. “She knows.” I picked up the beer and took a big swing. “That’s why she made sure I had this. She told me to take Finley up on her offer.”

“Which is what?” he asked.

“Help. As in…” I trailed off, feeling my cheeks flush crimson. “I’m a functioning alcoholic, and my family wants to send me to a rehabilitation center.”

“What do you think about that?” he asked, zero judgment in his eyes.

“I think I want to be happy. I think there are a lot of things I want, but I’m afraid to say it out loud in case I screw it up.”

His eyebrows pulled together, hope and desperation weighing down his expression. “Say it, anyway.”

I swallowed, nervous. “I want to be gross with you.”

He laughed once, taking a step and gently pulling me against his chest. He didn’t speak for the longest time, but held me in his arms, touching his cheek to my hair. “Can’t you just say it? Just once?”

I looked up at him, thinking about the way the words would feel on my lips, and what it would do to me if I said them. I wasn’t brave enough for two huge confessions in one day. I lifted up on the balls of my feet, touching my lips to his.