For years, my feelings for Will have been this...thing weighing me down. He was a secret—my secret. Something for me to protect at all costs, even when the price meant losing him. Pushing him away. Hurting him.

I coveted him to the point of insanity—to the point of questioning whether or not it was ever even real. I convinced myself I imagined our connection, and shelved away his smile and his blue, blue eyes, and the phantom touch of his small, sweaty hand. I distorted his larger-than-life attitude into something dull and unmemorable. Bottled up everything that was Will Foster and tucked it away where I couldn’t even access it.

I became numb.

I became indifferent.

I became untouchable.

And then he was back, and all up in my space, and my insides were boiling while my heart was flying, and I just wanted him to go. Leave me alone. Go away.

But instead...

“I kissed him.”

She drops her hands from my face and joins me back on the bed, her knee bumping into mine through the covers. “When?”

“The night of the storm. You were in New York. We got really drunk, and shit got carried away, and I just...” I shake my head. “Well, I freaked the fuck out.”

She releases a breath and looks toward the window, a troubled look coming over her face. No doubt remembering what she saw at Bootleggers. “That explains a lot.”

“Yeah.” I fight the urge not to apologize for the umpteenth time.

She chews on the corner of her lip. Hesitantly, she says, “But things seem...better between you two now.”

“Yeah.” I bite down on a smile. “We’re, uh, working some things out.”

She cuts me a dry sideway glance. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it?”

I give her a light shove and we both start laughing.

Fuck, I’ve missed her.

Breathless and overcome with love for this girl, I pull her into a hug and ruffle up her hair. She groans mid-laugh and tries to shoo me away, but I just hold her tighter to me.

As her laughter subsides into a sigh, I press my cheek to her head and whisper, “Are we okay?”

She turns, burying her face into my throat. “Of course we are.”

I swallow down the lump of emotion and close my eyes.

She smells like the expensive berry-scented shampoo she’s been using since we were kids. Like hot summer evenings sprawled out in her backyard as we stared up at the stars, wishing for things no kid should have to wish for.

She smells of the only real home I ever had.

Like safety.

But it’s...different now. Not less, but...more.