“I had a conversation with Mika,” he says, growing serious. “We talked about our mom and his mental health. I explained to him the roadblock I’ve had with moving on with my life. He told me that he was going to be okay and promised he wouldn’t go to that dark place again, and if he felt like he was going to, he would tell me. So”—his Adam’s apple bobs—“with that behind me, I felt confident that I could move forward in my life too. Sanders actually helped me comprehend that I’d possibly inserted myself into Mika’s life as a crutch and that Mika might not need his brother in that capacity anymore. So we talked that through, and here I am.”

“But do you really think you’re ready for it?” I ask. “Because I don’t want you jumping into something that you’re not fully ready for.”

His lips turn up. “I knew you were going to say that. And I have a response for you. Yes, I am ready, and I’m going to have a lot of fun proving that to you.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

He boops me on the nose. “Let me figure that out, and you just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means”—he leans forward, cupping my chin—“you relax and enjoy.” He kisses my lips softly and then leans back and tosses more popcorn in his mouth.

“I really wasn’t expecting that twist at the end,” Wilder says as he walks me up to my door.

I pause and turn to him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Wait, were you expecting it?”

“Wilder, the entire time, they alluded to it.”

“No, they didn’t,” he says playfully.

“Uh, yes, they did. It was so obvious. Honestly, one of the worst twists ever executed.”

His eyes widen. “You’re kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not kidding,” I say. “Seriously, one of the worst.”

He shakes his head and grips my hips, the playful man that I knew at Camp Haven taking over. “Wow, I’m going to need to remember this. She’s hard to impress, folks.”

I chuckle and then say, “Do you want to come in?”

He winces. “God, yes, but I’m not going to.”

“You’re not?” I ask, feeling sad from his answer.

“Nope, I’m not. Because if I go in there, I can’t promise you that I won’t somehow find my hand up your shirt. And then if my hand goes up your shirt, that will lead to me playing with your seriously sexy tits, which then of course would lead to so much more, which would be amazing, trust me, but I have a process here. A process that I’m trying to work through.”

“Okay,” I say, my brows pulling together in confusion.