“And that scares you.”

There was no judgment in his tone. No hurt or annoyance or condescension. “Yes.”

Another kiss to her shoulder. “I know why it scares me, but why does it scare you?”

She half turned at that, surprised. “It scares you?”

His brown eyes were so serious. “Yes, of course it does. I felt something for you the moment I met you, Mercy. Something I hadn’t felt for anyone in years. Not since Bella.”

The woman he’d loved and lost. Loved. The word mocked her, but the voice of her therapist intruded. You are lovable. You deserve love.

The woman had made Mercy repeat it dozens and dozens of times, which hadn’t made her believe it then. But the mantra did resonate in her mind now, and maybe that was the point. To create a kind of muscle memory. Whatever its purpose, it worked now, creating that little bubble of space that gave her a moment to think before habit kicked in to deny the possibility.

He’d loved Bella. He feels something for me.

And he’s scared, too.

“You lost her,” Mercy said quietly.

“I did. And I didn’t think I’d survive it. But I did. I just don’t want to have to survive again and right now this thing between us, whatever it is or will be, is uncertain. If I fall for you and lose you . . .”

I thought I’d lose you, he’d choked out the night before, when he’d let her glimpse his vulnerability.

I get it now. “I won’t make myself a target again,” she said quietly, willing to make the promise.

He shuddered against her, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered. “But . . .”

She waited. And waited, but he said nothing more, just pressed tight against her back, his breathing ragged. But what?

Concerned, she looked over her shoulder, the movement making him lift his head to meet her gaze. She didn’t mean to gasp, but the sound emerged before she knew to shove it back down. He looked . . . wrecked. Simply devastated. This, she knew immediately, was vulnerability.

This was trust. His trust. In me.

“But what?” she asked softly.

“But . . .” His jaw tightened, making the muscle in his cheek twitch. “It’s not just that I’m afraid to lose you. Because . . .” He closed his eyes and she wanted to force him to open them so she could see his emotion. But she didn’t. She waited, allowing him to gather his composure. “Because you’re not staying.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again, because she didn’t know what to say. He was right.

He cleared his throat and barreled forward. “As it stands right now, you’re not staying. You’ll go back to your life in New Orleans and I’ll stay here.”

Oh. Her heart hurt, but she forced herself to say the words. “We don’t have to take this any further, Rafe. I don’t want to hurt you.” But I probably will. Dammit.