She had left.

They’d had sex without a condom.

But she’d left.

And he hadn’t fought to get her to stay.

Those facts rolled around inside his brain, and they effectively distracted him from the cold shower, which ultimately did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He didn’t feel better. He didn’t feel fixed.

He felt changed.

And not necessarily in a good way.

He got out of the shower and dried himself off, making certain to scratch his skin with his rather cheap and threadbare towel. Just as a continuation of the general physical punishment he felt that he deserved.

He got dressed and jerked open his bedroom door and stopped. Right there in front of the door, between his bare feet was...

A sugar cube.

He bent down slowly and touched the top of it, looked down at the bright white shape on the scarred wood floor. Picked it up, rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.

Sammy.

He walked down the hall toward the landing, and there was another one, just before the first step. He picked that up, too.

There was another in the middle of the staircase. And another.

And Sammy was lucky that he got up earlier than anyone else in the house, or he was sure that the sugar cubes wouldn’t have remained.

As he got closer to the kitchen he could smell bacon cooking. And on the dining table was a plate. At the center of it was of course—a sugar cube. His lips twitched.

He sat down in front of the plate, but left the sugar undisturbed.

A blond head poked around the kitchen doorway, a sheepish look on her face. “Good morning.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.

“You walked right into my trap.” She had a bright, triumphant look about her that seemed more hopeful than actually happy.

“Don’t I always?”

Their eyes met, and held.

There was a weary look on Sammy’s face this morning, and he swore he could feel an extra line carving its way into his forehead.

If he’d aged ten years last night he wouldn’t be surprised.

Apparently, she felt the same.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Which makes setting traps for you fairly low risk. But I had my questions this morning.”

“And what inspired you to set one in the first place?”

“I wasn’t going to leave it like that. We both deserve a little bit better than an awkward walk of shame and waking up alone. Don’t you think?”

“In fairness, I’m used to waking up alone.”

“Well,” she said. “I don’t walk of shame.”

“I didn’t want you to.”

He hadn’t asked her to stay, either. But he hadn’t wanted her feeling...that. Not in a million years.

“I know,” she said slowly. “The shame was all mine. But it doesn’t need to be there. Not with us.”

“Why was it?”

“Because,” she said, sighing. “I... I’m afraid that I was doing something terribly me. And I got you caught up in the middle of it.”