Life was what it was. I couldn’t change the past. I could only deal with the present as it hurtled toward me.

Sometime later, his breathing evened into gentle snores, and I carefully tugged my hair from his fist and lifted his warm palm from my breast. Little by little, I extricated myself from his hold and crawled from bed. When a floorboard creaked under my foot, I froze, fear rising in my throat in the form of a lump. He didn’t move. I swallowed hard and inched toward the panel that would drop the ladder onto the first floor.

God, I was quaking like a leaf. The situation reminded me of one of those scary movies I used to make Lucas watch with me—the ones where I’d yell at the heroine, lamenting her stupidity because there was no way she was getting out of there alive.

I had to. For both our sakes. I didn’t hold anything against him. The horrors he’d experienced in prison were my fault. I wouldn’t take that from him, wouldn’t attempt to deflect blame. We all made choices, some good, some bad. When it came to bad decisions, Rafe and I were batting one for one.

So I had to get out of there before the situation escalated and he did something we’d both regret.

I kept his sleeping form in my periphery and released the ladder. It dropped to the floor with a ridiculous amount of racket, and my whole body stiffened. He rolled over, underneath the layers of blankets, and for a moment I wanted to crawl back into bed with him. What a ridiculous notion.

As soon as his soft snores resumed, a burst of adrenaline shot through me. I climbed down the steps and landed with a soft thud on the hardwood floor. I turned in the darkened room, thankful for the heavy rain hitting the roof in a cacophony of taps and dings. Under the cover of noise and shadow, I rushed through the house in search of my clothes. Heck, I’d settle for a jacket at this point.

If need be, I’d walk out of that house buck-naked.

I headed toward the kitchen, hoping to find a coat in the closet by the door. Turning the corner, I shook with a mixture of anticipation and dread. It was deja vu, and I was back in my house on the night of my engagement, preparing to take hold of freedom with both hands, to hell with the consequences.

I smashed into a body, and at first I thought it was Rafe until the deep voice registered—a voice I didn’t recognize.

“What are you doing wandering around by yourself?”