I get the urge to crawl on my knees to her, then bury my face in the valley of her breasts to breathe in her sweet, earthy scent and hear the delicate pounding of a heart she claims beats for me.

“Do you think your family will forgive me for what I’ve done to you all?”

Her question shocks me enough to leave off staring at the hint of her nakedness and search her eyes. “What you’ve done?”

“I tore open old wounds, and now, you’re all suffering.”

Apparently, my sister isn’t the only one feeling vulnerable after this evening’s confrontation. I cross the room, sit on the edge of the bed, just beside Zoey, and reach out to stroke her exposed shoulders.

“That’s not on you. You didn’t know about that drama. And it’s not our drama.”

Zoey goes to open her mouth, and I can tell she still plans on shouldering the blame. The thought pisses me off, and I give a definitive shake of my head.

“No. Don’t play the martyr. You talk about opening wounds? It’s been decades. A normal person would’ve let the old hurts heal. My mom is the one who’s been tearing things open. She’s at fault, and she’s too stubborn to admit it. No one in my family will blame you. We know who hurt who. And we know who is innocent in all of this.”

“If I had never come⁠—”

“Please, Zoey.” Now, my hands curl, clasping her, holding her in place. “Please don’t ever think life would be better if you hadn’t come here. You don’t know what it was like before.”

One of her eyebrows curves up. “You make it sound like you were living in hell.”

“Not hell.” I run my nose through her hair, filling my lungs with the scent that tells me she is meant to be mine. “More like purgatory. I was existing. Sitting in a waiting room. Lingering in a line. Restless, without a direction.”

“I’m not that much, Warner. You can’t think I mean that much.” Her voice cracks.

“You do though. This might sound selfish, but I’ve always wanted someone. Someone who needed me and who I needed. I can live on my own, exist on my own, but I don’t like it. You’re my someone, Zoey. I need you.”

She stares into my eyes, not shying away from the intensity in my gaze. “I came to Pine Falls because I felt smothered by my brothers’ love.”

I try not to wince, imagining my desperate declaration reminds her of their rabid displays of affection.

“Then, I came here and learned about my grandmother. After that, I worried that without their love, I’d curl into myself. That I’d fade into some kind of ghost person.”