His gaze hardened, his jaw stiff and square. “How do you always do that?”

“Do what?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Find ways to insult me, even when you’re being earnest?”

I opened my mouth to defend myself.

But he cut me off. “What did I ever do to you, Tess? We used to be friends, and somewhere along the way, you turned into this. You have berated me, insulted me. Treated me like I was second-class. You act like I was put on earth solely to annoy you, and I can’t understand why. So enlighten me, Tess—what did I do to deserve this?”

I hopped off the swing, my face drawn as I turned to him. The secret I’d kept from him, the truth of that night, all of it waited on my lips. But I couldn’t speak the words. I couldn’t admit it, not after all this time.

“Nothing. You did nothing, Luke. Like always.”

All of hell fueled my fire as I blew past, wanting nothing more than to get out of that shop and far, far away. But he hooked my arm, stopping me.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What doesn’t matter?” His brows were knit so tight, they nearly touched. “What happened, Tess? What do you think I did?”

“I don’t think you did anything.” I jerked my arm from his grip, fists like hammers at my sides and jaw like a vise. “If you can’t remember kissing me, I have no interest in reminding you.”

His face clicked open like pins and hammers of a lock.

But I didn’t wait for a response. I didn’t want one. Not when I was sure he’d say exactly what I feared: you meant nothing to me.

There was only one thing to do, one thing I needed—a city block between Luke and me. And with furious tears in my eyes, I brushed past him to put it there.

10

You Can Try

LUKE

I blinked as she passed like a thunderbolt.

She hadn’t said what I thought she’d said. There was no way I’d heard her right. None in the history of the world.

Never in a trillion years would I have forgotten kissing Tess Monroe.

My hand shot out like a grappling hook, snagging the crook of her elbow. I turned her around, my fingers clamping her arms to hold her still.

“Tess,” I started, my voice calm, still, like she was a wild animal set to bolt, “I have never kissed you.”

She shook her head, her eyes shining. “You did. I’ll remember it until I die whether you do or not.”

I swallowed hard, my mind scrambling backward in time, searching for the memory. “I don’t know who kissed you, but it wasn’t me.”

Fury and hurt lit her eyes like a brazier. “The greenhouse. Laney bought you a bottle of Wild Turkey.”

I frowned. “That I remember. I drank a third of it waiting on you to sneak out. Your mom had just … I’d wanted to cheer you up. But I didn’t kiss you.”