I want to believe that. I want to believe the walls of our house are solid steel. That the windows can’t be shattered. I want to believe that my love for her can keep all the bastards of the world from even looking in her direction. But the world doesn’t work that way.

“You ever think I’m the one you should worry about? I’m already here with you, Jane Mendoza. I’ve already gotten to you.”

“Yeah.” This breathy agreement makes me want to pin her to the bed and keep her there for the rest of her life. “You did. We could keep talking about it, or you could just accept that you’ve won.”

“How’s that? You won’t agree to stay safe.”

“I’ll agree to stay with you,” Jane points out, bending low to kiss me again. “In this house you built for me. In this bed.”

“College,” I manage to say, but barely. “You have to go to college, damn it.”

“We can talk about that another time,” she whispers.

I should be a better man. I know that. I should sit her down and make her understand how serious I am about her safety. About her life. I should look her in those big, dark eyes and keep talking until she hears every word I’m saying. Until she knows that putting herself at risk isn’t tolerable for me. Not on this level. What the hell would I do if something happened to her? How would I go on? I used to think I could do it, but having Paige in my life, and having Jane—it’s made me more aware of my own limitations. I can’t live without Jane Mendoza.

But I can’t say that to her, because I’m not a better man. I want to kiss her and hold her tight against me until she’s squirming with frustration. I want to make her come so hard she can’t stay awake after. I want all those things and more, and I want them tonight.

“This isn’t over,” I tell her. All I can do before I roll us over.

“I know,” Jane whispers, and then we’re all done talking for the night.

Chapter Twenty-Four

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Emily Rochester

Everyone in school wanted to date Beau Rochester. Girls doodled his name in their notebooks. They stole looks at him in the hallway. Is it any surprise that I wanted to date him, too? I tried not to want that. I tried to be the kind of girl who didn’t care about whether that boy with the dark hair and deep gray eyes knew who I was.