Shaking his head, Dad closed the door, and Kyler and I were alone in my bedroom. It wouldn’t be the first time. When we’d been home over fall break a few months ago, he’d been in here, but now?

It felt completely different.

Having him in here, so close to the bed—and with me not wearing a bra or panties under my clothes—made my skin flush. This spelled trouble.

Kyler pulled off his knit hat and then he paused halfway through taking off his jacket. “Do you mind?”

I shook my head as I pulled the edges of my cardigan closed.

Lean muscles flexed as he stripped off the black jacket and draped it over the chair at my desk. Then he turned to me, and the air leaked out of my lungs. He had never looked so…unconfident and vulnerable. His throat worked several times, and then he sat down on my desk chair and let out a long breath.

“We need to talk,” he said, resting his hands on his knees.

“I know,” I whispered, because there was no point in lying or delaying the inevitable. I couldn’t sit, so I stood. “I’m sorry about how I left Snowshoe without saying anything. I just needed to get out of there.”

He nodded. “I can understand that.”

I thought about what Andrea had said about Zach and what he’d done. Guilt burned like acid in my belly. “I…I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said to you about Zach. That wasn’t your fault. Not really, and it was low of me to put that on you, so I’m sorry.”

Kyler blinked. “Are you apologizing?”

The sound of disbelief in his voice unnerved me. Like he didn’t want my apology, that it was too late for that. “Yes. I shouldn’t have said that to you. And what you did a year ago—”

“Hold up.” Kyler raised his hand. “You can’t be serious.”

I sucked in a deep breath, but it got stuck in my throat. My heart pounded fast and suddenly I did need to sit. I sat on the edge of the bed, feeling like we were about to break up…except we weren’t together.

Kyler toed himself forward, the wheels of the chair squeaking over the hardwood floor. “You have absolutely no reason to apologize, Syd. ‘I’m sorry’ shouldn’t even cross your lips.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” He rubbed a hand over the scruff on his jaw. “All of this is my fault. I fucked up, Syd. I fucked up so bad, so many times, that I shouldn’t even be sitting here. You shouldn’t even be talking to me.”

“Oh?” I wasn’t sure how to process that.