He wanted to talk.

He was leaving.

She forced herself to keep it together. She would not make this a thing. She would not lay guilt on him. She was the one who’d broken the rules. This was her own fault.

Ash unlocked the door to the apartment and let her in. The place was more cluttered with her suitcase and a few boxes, but she’d spent so much time with him here these last few weeks that it had already started to feel a little like home. She took a deep breath and walked over to the bed to sit down.

Ash shut the door and stood in front of her, his face a funeral mask. Already, her eyes burned, tears imminent.

“KC.”

“Just tell me, Ash,” she said, proud that her voice stayed steady. “I’m a big girl.”

He let out a breath and sank onto the bed next to her. He took her hand between his, not looking at her. “First, I need to tell you that I love you.”

She swallowed past the hope in her throat. “I know. You told me earlier.”

“No.” He turned his head to meet her gaze. “I’m in love with you. I was when we were teenagers, and I am now.” He shook his head. “Part of me wonders if I ever stopped.”

She lost her breath for a moment, the words not what she was expecting. Was this going to be a good talk? Hope bloomed fresh in her chest. “Ash…”

“It was always you,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Tears filled her eyes.

He let her hand slip from his. “But you’re not supposed to be here with me.”

She frowned. “Ash—”

“You were supposed to be with him.” His jaw rippled as he pressed his teeth together. “And I took that choice away from you.”

Her body went cold. “What are you talking about?”

He lifted his head and turned to her, his eyes shiny. “I lied to you about what happened on prom night. You and Graham weren’t even supposed to be in the building. It’s my fault he’s gone.”

She was already shaking her head, the tears spilling over. “No. Don’t say that.”

He closed his eyes. “You need to know what happened.”

Twenty-Four

Then—Prom

“Isn’t this the best night ever?” Kincaid asked dramatically as she stepped up behind Ash and put her chin on his shoulder. “It’s so romantic. Like right out of a movie. I kind of wish a synchronized dance number would break out. Like in Footloose.”

“I think that only happened in the eighties,” Ash said, turning to face her. Even though he’d seen her a few times tonight, it was still like a gut punch to see her in her low-cut, flowing white dress. She looked like a damn princess. He’d wanted to ask her to dance a thousand times. “I think you’re out of luck.”

“Boo,” she said, taking his hands and spinning him around. “But that’s all right. Nothing’s going to bring me down tonight. This has been the perfect night already.”