“I’m sorry,” I say, scooping up a falling tear with my tongue. I’m too afraid to face him. Instead, I stare up at the black sky. “When I turn, when I’m the wolf, there’s just this violence. This hunger. And I’ve been trying to figure out how to control it. Manage it. And I did! I figured it out last night. I was in control. But I wasn’t prepared. I lost track of the days. I didn’t mean to put you in any danger. That’s the last thing I’d ever want. That’s not how you should have found out.”

“There was another one.”

“I didn’t invite her, trust me.”

“What? Invite who? Who was that?”

“It’s not important.”

“They tried to kill me.”

“I took care of it.”

“What do you mean, you took care of it?”

“She’s leaving and she’s not coming back. I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“But it did happen.”

“Are you hurt? Did you get bitten?”

“No, but it was fucking close.” He rubs his head. “This is so fucked, Rory.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it and deal with it and sort things out. I didn’t want to keep it from you, but I didn’t know how to tell you. And I thought if I told you . . . I thought this would be over. I was afraid I’d lose you.”

“You didn’t tell me because you thought I’d break up with you?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I mean, why wouldn’t you? Like, I get it. If you don’t want to be with me anymore, that’s fair. Understandable. I wouldn’t blame you.”

He gives a sober laugh. “I don’t care.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t care,” he says. “That you’re a werewolf. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” I ask. “That once a month I turn into that thing in the woods?”

“It should,” he says. “It definitely should. I’ve been driving around all day, and I was trying to figure out what I was thinking and feeling, if I’d lost my mind. If I really saw what I thought I did. But more than any of that, I was just hoping that you were okay. That was the most important thing. I was more concerned with that, with you, than anything else. So, yeah, it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“Really? Not even a little?”

“Well . . .” he says.

My breath catches, and he laughs.

“Hey!”

“No, not even a little. I don’t know what that says about me. But it’s like you said. There’s no logic. Logic isn’t really at play here, though I do have some questions. A lot of questions, actually.”

“I don’t know if I have answers. I wish I did. I don’t know what a life with me will look like, Ian. I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.”

“Rory, I’ve been in love with you since the sixth grade,” he says. “When I saw you at the bar that night in October, I thought, ‘Really? Still?’ We hadn’t seen each other in years, and I was right back. A lot has changed. A lot will change. But turns out I’ll always be in love with you.”