“Why does it have to be real? Why do so many bad things have to happen? And why—”

I didn’t know what other question she was going to ask, but she cut herself off.

“What?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to think about it tonight. I don’t really want to think about any of it. That’s all I do, is think about it. I’m so tired of feeling broken.”

I squeezed her hand harder as we turned down the gravel drive that led to the cabin, and I parked. “Let me help put you back together, Blue. That’s all I want.”

I helped her out of the truck and kept her pressed tightly to my side as we entered the cabin. As soon as the door closed, I wrapped my arms around her and held her against my chest. I rested my chin on her head, and together we stood there in silence.

“I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry.”

Her body shook, and I rocked her from side to side until she finally looked up at me. “I didn’t know how much I needed that until right now.”

I threaded my fingers into her hair and cradled the back of her head. “I’ll help you any way I can, Blue. All you have to do is tell me what you need.”

Her arms wrapped around my neck.

“You. I need you.”

Forty-Eight

Whitney

I’d been drowning in grief for what seemed like a million years, sleepwalking through every minute of every day, but as soon as Lincoln wrapped his arms around me, it was like I snapped awake.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened,” I told him. “I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to drown anymore.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go until you tell me to.”

I never want him to let me go.

I pulled Lincoln’s head down to mine and took control of the kiss. Power flooded my veins, and I finally felt like I had control over something in my life. It was a heady illusion, but I was going to take every bit of it I could get.

“Blue—” He said my nickname against my lips, but I wasn’t stopping.

“Just kiss me.”

“Whatever you want. Tonight’s all about you.”

He bent his knees, slid an arm under my legs, and picked me up. I gripped the muscles of his shoulders and they flexed and hardened.

Just the simple act of having my hands on him reminded me that I was alive. I hadn’t felt alive since they told me my parents were gone.

No. Not thinking about that.

Lincoln laid me on the bed, and I snagged the hem of his shirt before he could step away.

“Off. Take it off.”

He didn’t question me, just whipped the shirt over his head.

“I don’t want sweet or soft. I want . . .” My words trailed off because I didn’t know how to express what I needed. “I want to feel alive.”