I think back on mine and get closer to him. “Yeah, we do.”

“Maybe had I found you first… right?” Quinn jokes, his eyes are sad though, and it kills me because I know he’s being honest and that it hurts his soul the way it hurts mine because, in another life, maybe I would have loved him. In this one, I still have love, but I look over at Ambrose, and I ache.

I don’t ache for Quinn.

I ache for Ambrose.

And I’ll ache for him for an eternity. I need to walk out of that room before I don’t have the strength to leave. When I disappointed Ambrose the first time, it nearly destroyed me.

Now? There won’t be any more pieces left to salvage.

Quinn holds me tight, then rubs my back. “Sorry, too soon? I was just kidding, you know.”

No, he wasn’t.

I laugh despite the fact that my boyfriend is currently a few feet away from me. “Who knows, he may get amnesia and never want to see my ugly face again.”

“You’re not ugly.” Ambrose groans. A chill runs down my spine as if to say it’s time. “And I’m right here.”

I fall out of Quinn’s lap and stumble toward Ambrose. “You’re awake.” I try to keep myself from bursting into tears as I make it over to Ambrose. His head’s bandaged. No airbags deployed in the car for whatever reason—we are waiting to find out why—so he hit the front really hard and got scratches along his jaw with a lot of bruising down his arms and chest.

But that’s the least of his worries right now.

I swear I can see the scars on his body from the surgery, the ones he probably feels but doesn’t yet know about.

“Ambrose.” I choke out, holding my breath for a few seconds.

One. Goodbye.

Two. I’m sorry.

Three. Believe it wasn’t my fault.

Four. I love you.

“I’m awake, not talking in my sleep, and why does everyone look so morose?” Ambrose groans again and sits up.

He stares at Quinn, not me. “I love you too, bro.”

Quinn bursts into tears and walks over to Ambrose, then pulls him in for an embrace while I watch. These guys. Ride or die. I love them. I love it.

I’ve never had that.

And now I’ve lost it.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn says, holding Ambrose close. “I’m so fucking sorry, I had no idea, and when I finally figured it out, I realized what was happening. I—“

“—Not on you.” Ambrose pats him on the back. “I got in the damn car.”

“Because you’re a good person,” I whisper. “You always have been, always will be.”

“Oh yeah.” His smile’s teasing. “The guy who slept with his foster sister on, like what? The first day?”

I just shake my head. “Maybe she wanted it.”

“She asked for it.”

“Too far. Now you get slapped.”

He bursts out laughing. “I was kidding!”

“Not funny.” I stick out my tongue. “Plus, you’re a horny little thing, with your tiny little—“