He lifts his hand to scratch the back of his head. The hem of his t-shirt lifts, exposing his stomach. I want to talk about important stuff, but his body? It has the ability to distract me from a nuclear war. “Way too much on my mind,” he says, breaking my focus on his abs. “I’m making ragu. Want some?” A sexy smile curves around his lips.

I definitely want some ragu. Especially if “ragu” is a euphemism for something else entirely.

I scramble down the steps to get to him and he meets me halfway.

“You moved?” I say, glancing back at his old cabin. But I don’t wait for a response before I say, “I went to Oregon and I figured all this stuff out and I want to tell you about it. Because it involves you. You and me. And I realize… so much now.”

He gives me a small smile, scoops up my hand. It feels so good to be touching him, to feel his hand in mine. It feels safe and secure. He’s protective without being controlling. I see the difference now. We head into the cabin as if all the time since I’ve moved out has been erased.

“Come inside and tell me everything.”

He heads to the burner and turns off the heat.

His skin against mine feels so right. Warm and safe and solid. I’ve never experienced Byron as controlling or selfish. He’s always let me do what I want to do. I’ve met his friends and seen how they love him—as much or more than this town does. I’ve been expecting him to be like the people around me in Oregon, but I’m not in Oregon anymore. I’m right here in Star Falls, Colorado.

My life changed forever the day I was supposed to marry Frank. Because I met Byron.

“You want some hot chocolate?” he asks.

I just want you, I want to say. I manage to hold back. “Sure.” That should give me room to breathe, time to organize my thoughts. I glance around and see Athena curled up on the floor by the fire. She opens one eye, sees me, but goes back to sleep. Cats.

I take a seat on the couch and he sets about heating milk in the pan and taking mugs from the cupboard. He’s calm and considered, like me turning up in the middle of the night telling him I’ve been to Oregon happens every last Tuesday of the month.

“How come you couldn’t sleep?” I ask.

“Tell me about Oregon first. That’s why you’re here.”

He’s right. I’m stalling. I just don’t know how to start. “I saw Mom and my sisters.”

He turns, catching my eye. “You okay?”