He’d felt abandoned by her, which was a very real issue for him since he’d been abandoned cruelly before. “Aidan—”

“No one but you blamed you,” he said, clearly not intending to let this be about him. “Do I need to repeat that?”

“That’s not quite true.”

“Yes it is—”

“No,” she said. “I appreciate you saying that, really, I do, but at Ashley’s funeral, my dad—” She broke off and closed her eyes, and just like that she was back there. Sitting in the front row next to her sobbing mother as she met the gaze of her dad, his eyes burning with fury.

At her.

And then in the next moment he was clutching his heart and falling to the ground.

He’d died there, mad at her.

She opened her eyes. “My dad blamed me.”

Aidan shook his head and reached for her. “No—”

“He did, Aidan. I saw it in his eyes. And then he had the heart attack.”

“I was there,” he said, “at the funeral. He was devastated, yes. And angry at fate or whatever, but not you. Lily—”

She quickly turned away to get a damp, warm cloth to clean him up—and to give herself a moment to fight the tears threatening to fall. She remembered Aidan trying to talk to her beforehand and her being unable to speak about what had happened. About the fact that she was leaving. About anything, really. She’d been consumed by the need to go. He’d seen that, and they’d had some angry words that night, and she knew now in hindsight that she’d hurt him badly. It was a wonder he talked to her these days at all, which was a visceral reminder that he wasn’t a man to repeat his mistakes. No matter what she wished for in the deep, dark of the night, she knew he’d never trust her with his heart again.

“Even if you believed what happened to Ashley was your fault,” he said behind her, with devastating gentleness, “even if your dad blamed you and you had to get out of town, you didn’t have to stop what was happening between you and me.”

Standing with her back still to him, she closed her eyes, her chest aching so that she could hardly speak. “That’s the thing,” she whispered, denying what her heart wanted to believe was true. “Nothing was happening between you and me. Not really.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true. There was nothing between us—”

His hands settled on her shoulders. He’d gotten up from the bed and turned her around to face him, making her gasp in surprise. “Aidan—”

He yanked her in and covered her mouth with his.

This was no soft, gentle, nice-to-be-kissing-you-again kiss. This was a no holds barred, hard body plastered to a much softer one, tongues clashing, hands fighting for purchase, and rough groans cutting the air.