“You’re goddamn right I do,” he said without hesitation. “I said, after this trip, we wouldn’t be friends anymore.” He noticed my expression. “What?”

“That’s unfortunate for you.”

“That’s all you have to say?” he said, wounded.

“I’m a mess, Taylor. Inevitably—”

“You, Falyn, are fucking amazing. I’ve never been so proud to know someone in my life. And that’s saying something. I have a lot of decorated heroes for friends. You were right about how this happened. We were supposed to meet. Just like we did. It can’t all be a weird coincidence.” His eyes met mine. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not going to leave you, Falyn. And I’m not going to let you leave me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t have to say it back, but it’s too late for me.”

Holding back at that point—when Taylor was looking me in the eyes, confessing his feelings—was useless. But the very real fear of good-bye was just under the surface, waiting behind the hope of a happy ending. It had to be. Whether it was me who walked away or the ones I loved being ripped from my grasp, good-bye was nearly all I knew.

“I’m afraid I’ll lose you if I say it out loud,” I said, hoping my voice was too soft for fate to hear.

“So, you do,” he said, surprised. “You love me.”

I nodded, wary of his reaction.

He pulled me into his chest and hugged me tight, relieved. “I can’t fucking believe it. I have never trusted in this kind of thing before, but it’s hard to deny.”

“Love?” I asked.

“Before I applied at Alpine, before Shane and Liza decided to adopt—is it crazy to say that this goes way back? That we go way back? Someone knew I’d need to hold your hand before I ever had one.”

“That’s kind of poetic.”

“Roses are red,” he began with a mischievous smile.

“Stop,” I warned.

“Your eyes are green,” he said, tackling me to the bed.

I giggled, not trying very hard at all to push him off of me.

“The most beautiful green I’ve ever seen.”

He stopped tickling me, and I relaxed, breathing hard beneath him.

His smile vanished. “I love you,” he said quietly.

“That’s a terrible poem. It doesn’t even rhyme.”

“Yes, it does.” He leaned down, touching his lips to mine.

His fingers cupped my jawline, and my lips instantly parted, eager for the same rush that I’d felt when he kissed me on the plane. But this time was different. This time, we were alone.