“Jesus, it’s been a long day,” I mutter to myself as I wait for the leftovers Mama D sent me home to heat. It feels like everything that could’ve gone wrong on the farm today did.

Broken down tractor . . . check.

Two bags of fertilizer ripped open and spilled . . . check.

The fence we just built last month started showing signs of moisture rot in a post . . . check.

To say I’m over this day would be an understatement. Thank God tomorrow’s Christmas Eve—a day I know will be well spent with my parents. We have a longstanding tradition of cheesy Christmas flicks, a huge dinner, and then I stay the night. Might sound weird, what with me knocking on the door of twenty-five years old, but it’s something that makes my stepmom happy, and I’ll do what I can to keep a smile on her face as long as I’m alive.

Someone knocks on my door just as the microwave dings. “Who in the hell?” Hitting the stop button on the micro, I make my way to the front door, shocked as shit to find Azalea on the other side.

“Wh–what’re you doin’ here?” I ask.

“I was hopin’ we could talk.” Her voice is a seductive whisper, full of promises of sex and sin. And when she snakes her arms around my neck, that confirms it.

Stuck in her web, I stare down at her, mesmerized by her cherry-red lips, missing the way they taste. As if she can read my mind, she bites down on her full, ripe lower lip before running the tip of her tongue along it, my eyes following.

Without warning, she pulls back from me and places her hand on my chest, gently pushing me back from the door. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

Struck dumb, I simply pivot to make room for her and nod. As she crosses the threshold, she begins untying the sash to her long coat, slowly unwrapping it from herself. I watch with rapt attention as it falls to the floor, leaving her in nothing more than a see-through red lace bra and matching panties.

I almost come undone right there—fully clothed, no less—when I realize her panties tie on the side. Lord, have mercy.

Boldly, she moves in on me, yet again wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her lithe body to mine, soft to all of my hard. My very, very hard. “Drake,” she murmurs against my jaw, dragging her lips up it all the way to my ear where she whispers, “I know you feel the same way I do. We’re so good together, D.” My sluggish, lust-crazed brain struggles to catch up to everything happening. My body, especially the lower half, is screaming Go, go, go! but something isn’t right.

“I know you want this, Drake.” She nips at my earlobe before slowly trailing her tongue along the shell of my ear. “I know you want me.”

It’s like a light bulb sparks in my brain. There it is. That’s what’s wrong. She still doesn’t fucking get it. Gently, I take hold of her wrists and remove her arms from around my neck and take a step back.

“What’re you doing?” she asks, confusion marring her tone.

Silently, I bend to retrieve her coat. “Arms out,” I bark, my hard tone compelling her to comply immediately. I all but shove her arms into the sleeves before re-cinching the tie. “Get out of here, Azalea. Just go.”

“What?” she asks incredulously.

“You don’t get it, Azalea. My wanting you has never been the problem. It’s that I want more than your body, and you refuse to give it. I want your heart. Your soul. I want to know when something silly makes you smile. I want to be the one to cheer you up when you’re sad. I want to be the one you fall asleep beside and wake up next to. I want your everything, Azalea, because God knows, you already have mine, so until you’re willing to reciprocate . . . Get. The. Fuck. Outta. Here.”

“But . . . I love you,” she croaks out.

“Yeah? Do you? Then learn to show it. Actions speak louder, Little Bit.”

Without another word, she turns and walks away, her shoulders drooping and her head hanging low. It guts me to see her so dejected, but deep down, I know I’m doing right. Not only by me, but by both of us.

Once my racing mind settles, I re-reheat my dinner and set it up on a TV tray in the living room. I make my way through it, bite by bite but not tasting any of it, until my plate is clear. “Why, Azalea, why?” I mutter aloud to the empty room, my mind and body warring against one another.

It felt so damn good to have her body tucked into mine. To feel her lips, to taste her, to touch her skin. And my God, her sweet peach scent lingers all over me, driving me damn-near crazy. But I’m done playing her games, and until she’s ready to give all of herself to me, mind and body, this is the way it has to be.

“Kasey. She’ll know what to do.” I stomp my way into the kitchen, grab my cell, and pound out her number. Thank God, she picks up on the first ring.

“Happy almost Christmas, D!” she chirps into the phone.

“Azalea came by,” I tell her.

“Oh. Wow. Are y’all all better now?”

“Not hardly.” I pound my fist against the countertop, causing the plates drying on a rag to clatter. “Not even a little.”

“Need me to come by?”

“If you don’t mind. Yeah.”

“Okay, D. I’m on my way.” She disconnects the call, and I trudge back to my bedroom to change. I can’t stand the tease of her scent clinging to me for one more second.

Drake’s door slams shut, and I kick my heels off and run barefoot over the freezing wet grass to my car, refusing to let a single tear fall until I’m safely inside. But then, the dam breaks. I allow my tears to flow freely, not caring even an iota that I’ll look like the morning after, minus the night before.

With my head resting against my steering wheel, I let it all out. And once my tears have dried, I call my best friend. The waterworks start up again when she doesn’t answer. But thankfully, she calls right back. “Myles,” I croak into the phone.

“Oh, sister-girl, I told you this was a cockamamie plan.”

“Not really the time for an ‘I told you so.’ Is there any way you could come over?”

“Of course. Lemme tell Cash he’s on baby duty, and I’ll be right there.” I hear her holler for Cash as she ends the call. I crank my ignition and head home, ready for the comfort my best friend will bring.

I make it home with just enough time to strip out of my stupid red lingerie before tossing it in the trash and throwing on some baggy sweats and one of Drake’s old T-shirts.

“AzzyJo, come on down. I’m here,” Myla Rose calls out as she lets herself in.

Trudging down the steps, I make my way to where she’s curled up on the couch, and I cuddle up next to her. “God, I’m so pathetic, Myles.”

“Oh, Az. You’re not pathetic, just misguided.”

“I don’t get it. What do I need to do differently?”

“Everything. Absolutely everything. The physical is the easy part with y’all. But you need to find a way to show him you’re all in. Your mind and your heart and your body. Anything less, and you’ll lose him. For good.”

Her words bring little comfort, because I’m not sure how to do that—how to give him that. I’m pretty sure my ability to love fully was broken a long time ago. It flew out the window, along with all of my romantic fairy tale notions the minute I found out where I came from and how I was brought into this world.

I relay these thoughts to Myla Rose and she pats my head. “Your mom found a way to move forward. Now, it’s your turn. Sink or swim, sister-girl. The choice is yours.”

Sink or swim. When it’s put like that, there really isn’t a choice at all.