I stare at my best friend, who just gave what was probably the longest speech he’s ever given about something non-sports related, and think about how right he is.

I may not get the ending I want, but I can live the story now.

“See, going slow has its merits,” I tell her as I push the hair off her face. Her breathing is ragged as she turns and bites my chest. “Hey!”

“That was for not listening when I said it was too much.”

I laugh, pulling her tighter. “I wanted to set a record.”

Three orgasms were achieved, and I feel like a fucking stud. I don’t know if sex has ever been this good. It sure as hell wasn’t like this when we were kids. Not that it was ever bad, but this is out of this damn world.

“You broke me,” Jess says, turning to lie facing the ceiling.

“I feel no remorse.”

She turns her head, a smile on her lips. “What time do you have to pick up Melia?”

I glance over at the clock. “The sitter can keep her until six.”

“We should probably get dressed then.”

“I’d rather we stay naked.”

Jessica laughs. “That would be the talk of the town.”

“We’re already that.”

Since my sister announced that Jessica and I slept together, it’s been question after question. We’ve done a good job of avoiding committing to anything, mostly because neither one of us can really answer it anyway.

Are you guys back together? Did you tell her you love her? Does she love you? Have you convinced her to stay this time? What does all this mean? What happens when she is cleared to leave again?

None of those questions are things she and I are ready to face yet. Regarding how I feel, there’s nothing about what I want that is slow.

It’s as though I want it all—now, which is fucking stupid.

Jessica sits up, her dark hair falling down, creating a curtain around her face. “I hate this town. Why can’t we just . . . be?”

“Because they’re rooting for us.”

She laughs once. “Not everyone.”

No, not my parents. “The people who matter are.”

Jess turns her head, eyes filled with a myriad of emotions. “You don’t care about what your parents think? Not even a little?”

“Not even in the slightest.”

“So, if they were to cut you off and fire you from the inn, that wouldn’t matter?”

Little does she know that’s exactly what Friday night’s dinner conversation was. Mom going on and on about appearances. Dad talking about the family money and how he’d do everything in his power to make sure that it was protected. Stella and I sat there—stunned.

Not that I should’ve been. My parents are both assholes.

Still, to be so openly hostile about her, after all this time, it was ridiculous.