“I know,” she said with quiet acceptance. “But I still remember, Rafe. I’ll never forget what it was like with you. You made me feel things I didn’t think were possible.”

“Was that before or after I tortured you?” I still didn’t know the details, but I must have done something horrendous for her to threaten me with a broken bottle. The flash of her terrified face would forever haunt me.

“What do you remember?” she asked, rolling to the edge of the couch.

“I told you. I don’t remember anything.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I dragged a hand through my hair. “Okay. They’re just flashes, but I’m pretty sure I choked you. What else did I do?”

“It doesn’t matter what you did. I forgave you for it.”

“How can you let it go like that?”

She scowled at me. “Have you not figured it out yet?”

“Why don’t you fill me in?”

“I’m in love with you.” She bit her lip. “I’ve been in love with you for years. I thought you understood that from my letters.”

“You don’t love me, Alex. For God’s sake, you were only fifteen.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel!”

“It’s fucking common sense. You might want to fuck me, but love? You don’t even know me. Fuck, I don’t even know me anymore.”

“I know how I feel. I know we had a connection.”

I shook my head. “We had sex—sex I don’t even remember.” Tears pooled in her eyes, and I wanted to kick myself for being such an insensitive ass. “Alex, I’m sorry.”

“I hate that you don’t remember us.” She swiped at her eyes with jerky, angry movements. “But what we shared went beyond the physical. You were the only person who gave a shit about me.”

Unable to stop myself, I slid a palm along her cheek, and my thumb caught a tear. My attention lingered on that salty drop, as if it called to me in some way. My gaze swerved to hers, and I licked my lips, imagining the unmistakable taste of sorrow.

“I still give a shit about you.” I furrowed my brows, running that statement in my head a few more times. I did care about her, more than I should. More than I had a right to, which was why I’d do everything in my power to protect her, even from myself. I pushed to my feet and thrust a hand out for her to grab. “Go back to bed.”

She let me pull her up from the couch. “Come with me.”

“Alex,” I warned.

“I don’t mean to do anything. I just want you to hold me, like you do on the couch.”

“I won’t be able to stop at that. Not this time.”

“Why hold back then?”