“Nah.” I grab the phone off the counter before walking to the door. The sky booms once more as my hand reaches for the handle. When I pull the door open, lightning explodes in the sky as I take in the person in front of me. My lips part on a sharp inhale as my eyes widen and my stomach lurches to my throat.

Vaguely, I hear Kylie trying to get my attention on the phone, but all I can focus on is the deep, soul-searching, hazelnut eyes watching me with painful longing, rain-soaked onyx hair dripping onto the worn leather jacket, and the plush pink lips upturned slightly. My heart rages behind my ribcage.

“Ky, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” I lift the phone into my line of sight and give her a look I’m hoping says everything I can’t before ending the call and turning my attention back to the man on my doorstep.

“Hi,” is all I manage to utter. My brain has clearly short-circuited, making speaking impossible.

“Hey. Can I come in?”

He stands there, like he has every right to be here, running his fingers through his drenched hair, looking like a fucking Greek god as lightning strikes behind him. I stare at him for all of five seconds before my brain catches up, and I step to the side.

“Yeah, sure.”

Why would he be here? And how does he know where I live?

He shuts the door softly behind him, then takes his shoes and coat off, hanging the latter up on the rack. Fuck me. The white t-shirt he has on underneath is tight, hugging his arms and broad shoulders in a way that my hands itch to do.

With my arms crossed over my chest, I rest my ass against the back of the couch. “What are you doing here, Stone?”

“I’m sorry for showing up unannounced like this, but I just need to talk to you.”

His deep voice brushes over me, sending a chill through my entire body.

“Okay… about what?” My mind is spinning, wondering what is so important that he needs to talk to me in the middle of a storm. And at my house. Out of the fucking blue.

“I, uh…” His large hands rub up and down his face before sinking into his hair again. “I want to tell you the truth. Tell you why I left.”

It feels like the wind’s been knocked out of me. If I wasn’t resting on the couch, I would fall over. Or collapse. This is something I’ve wanted the answer to for five years. Since the day he left without any sort of explanation or goodbye. Something I’ve needed but have been too scared to ask. But now that I’m about to hear it… I… I’m not fucking ready.