They locked into each other, her tears wet against his neck, her breath huffing warm down the collar of his shirt. His ribs ached with the ferocity of her grip. He had no idea why she wanted to touch him now, when he was the one who had scared her nearly to death a moment ago. But then he didn’t care, because she was in his arms and she was okay.

He stroked a shaking hand down her tangled hair. He hadn’t been this crazy for a girl once in his whole life, and he couldn’t even get through cooking dinner without slamming her into a panic attack. Her father had warned him he would do this to her, and he wanted her so much that he didn’t listen. He never fucking listened. He just did what he wanted and damn the consequences, like his mama had always said. But this time he was hurting someone other than himself.

This time, he’d hurt Andra.

•   •   •

Andra pulled away first. LJ held her so gently, she thought he’d probably stay on the floor for the rest of his life if she asked him to, but his legs had to be falling asleep, and she needed a tissue. She rolled to the side, her butt hitting the hardwood floor next to his, and she let her head sag back against the counter. One second. She’d rest for one second, and then she’d get up.

The floor creaked beside her, and she cracked one swollen eyelid to see LJ stand and turn off the stove. Her nose was too clogged to smell, but she had probably burned something. So much for showing him up at cooking. So much for buying new clothes that made her feel like her younger, more confident self. It was distinctly the same old self slumped against this cabinet like a used dishrag.

A roll of toilet paper appeared in front of her, and she took it.

LJ lowered himself back to the floor, and their shoulders touched, creating a warm spot that counteracted the chill of the floor. “Can I ask you a question you’re not going to want to answer?”

She laughed. Sharper and louder than his question probably warranted, because how fucked up was this day? How much more blatant could the evidence be that her past still owned her present? That it always, always would.

“Knock yourself out.” She ripped off some toilet paper to blow her nose. The sound was rude and disgusting, but the sexy ship had sailed about half an hour ago.

He flipped around to face her, pulling his knees up and gripping one thick wrist in his opposite hand. His eyes were darkly circled and the tiniest bit red. “This is probably the last thing you want to talk about, but I was wondering how many different things trigger those.”