“The point is,” he said softly, “we’ve established we get it. There are lines we don’t cross. We both know why. We both got shields up to protect ourselves and each other from the shit in our lives. But that doesn’t mean we can’t give a shit and that doesn’t mean we can’t be decent to each other when the need arises.”

“I…I…” I didn’t know what I wanted to say, so I finished weakly, “I actually am fine, Sebring. I have some things on my mind but I’m fine.”

He scowled at me.

I wanted to shut this down. I wanted to stop myself from feeling what I was feeling because it felt too good.

But he was right.

We got it.

And if that was true—and he believed it was—and if I could convince myself of that—then we did get it.

So I could have it.

“However, if needed, I’ll be certain to get shitfaced safely with you or…” I shrugged, “other.”

“You do know you can be cute,” he remarked curtly.

I could?

“No,” I told him.

“And it’s fucking annoying,” he declared, sounding like it was far worse than that.

I had the deep desire to smile.

Instead, I pressed my lips together.

His eyes dropped to them and he suddenly looked well beyond fucking annoyed.

His gaze came back to mine.

“And, just sayin’, in a perfect goddamned world, I’d know who taught you it wasn’t okay to be happy, not even for the length of time you’d give yourself to smile, and I’d fuck them right the fuck up,” he declared, his words and their tone proving he was definitely beyond fucking annoyed.

But still, I liked he had that emotion for me.

And liking it, I felt my body melt on his as I whispered, “Sebring.”

“Now,” he rolled me to my back, “with all that shit, I’m not fine.” His mouth came to mine. “So we’re fucking until I feel better.”

“Okay,” I agreed, sliding my arms around him, perfectly fine with giving at least that to him.

So I did.

We fucked.

And by the time he walked me to my car, I didn’t know how much better Nick felt.

But outside of leaving him, I felt great.

Chapter Twelve

Rearview Mirror

Olivia

5:26 – Saturday Evening

My phone rang, I looked at it and didn’t bother fighting it.

I answered it.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hey,” Nick replied. “Got somethin’ that came up. Can’t do dinner tonight.”

My heart sunk.

“Text you when my shit’s done. You can come over or I could come to you,” he finished.

My heart got light.

I wanted him to come to me. I wanted his presence in my house, the memory of him in my bed.