Slipping into bed together so we can talk is probably not the best move. I’ll become too easily distracted and so will he, but then again, it’s almost like forced intimacy, having to face each other while in bed and not being able to escape without hurting the other’s feelings. There’s something to be said for being open and honest with each other while lying in bed just wearing our underwear. Molly is on the floor, sleeping on an old blanket. It started to rain after dinner and the rain is still falling, the gentle sound soothing.

We ate dinner together, keeping the conversation easy, nothing confrontational, nothing too emotional. It was nice, pretending as if everything’s normal. As though we don’t have this overwhelming past that we share, that always seems to rear its ugly head between us at the worst moments.

When he suggested we go to bed after watching a really bad movie on HBO, I was wary at first. A little scared. But as usual, he put me at ease and said we could talk. And I want to talk. I also want to do a lot more . . .

I’m lying on my side, facing the window, and he’s snuggled up behind me, one arm around my waist, hand splayed across my stomach. I think of what I should call him and yet again, I’m conflicted. Is he Ethan? Or Will? Can I imagine him as both? Is it fair of me, seeing the divide, to want to get rid of Ethan once and for all?

“You need to work out everything with your mom and your sister,” he says out of the blue. “I think it’s eating you up, how they don’t approve of us.”

Sighing, I rest my hand over his. “It does bother me. A lot.”

“I know. That’s why you can’t let this go on. You need to reach out to them.”

“They should reach out to me,” I say bitterly.

“Be the bigger person and do it first. Tell them that you miss them.”

I do miss them. More than I want to admit. But there’s so much more involved now. There are my feelings for the man in my bed. The dog on the floor that belongs to me as much as she belongs to him. I’m creating new relationships, a little family of my own, and they don’t approve. I need their approval.

Desperately.

“They hate you,” I point out. “And I don’t like that. I want it to be easy. Why can’t anything ever be easy for us?”

He shrugs; I feel the movement of his chest, his shoulders. “Nothing’s ever easy for anyone, Katie. We only see what others want us to see. We don’t know how they suffer behind closed doors. Our pain is particularly large. And obvious. And public.”

I know he’s right, but I still wish I could change it.

“And if your mom and sister hate me, then I’ll have to work extra hard to get into their good graces, right? If I want to be with you, I need to accept them, too. I want to accept them and I want them to like me, but I understand why they don’t. It’s only because they’re concerned about you and I appreciate their concern, their protectiveness. My link to your past isn’t a pleasant one. They’d rather forget I existed.”

“I don’t want to forget you exist,” I confess, my voice soft, my fingers stroking his arm.

He squeezes me closer. “I never want to forget you exist. You saved me, Katie. Everyone always talks about how I saved you, but you did the same for me. I didn’t see it then, but I know what you did for me now.”

“You were mad I forced you to go to the police station.”

“It’s hard to leave your only home, no matter how awful it is,” he whispers against my temple.

“I can be your home now.” I pick his hand up and kiss the back of it. “I want to be.”

“You already are,” he admits.

We lie together wrapped around each other for a long time, silent and thoughtful, my mind racing, his . . . I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but I wish I knew.

“I’m confused,” I finally say, running my thumb back and forth across the back of his hand.

“About what?”

“What name I should call you.” My voice is small. I know it doesn’t make him happy when I call him Will. I need to watch myself, but it’s as if I can’t help it.

He sighs, and it stirs the tiny hairs grazing my forehead. “I worked my hardest to get rid of Will. I didn’t want to be him. And the moment I legally changed my name, I felt like a new person with a second chance. I needed that second chance, Katie.”

“I know. I know you don’t like thinking of yourself as Will.”

“Will represents him,” he says vehemently, his arm tightening around me, clutching me close. “We pretty much share the same name.”

“But you’re not him. To me, Will was my savior, my hero. Will is the boy who understands, who knows what I suffered because he suffered it, too. I don’t want to lose him, no matter how badly you want to forget.”

It’s quiet again and I want to say more, but what? I’ll just end up talking in circles.

“For you I’d do just about anything,” he says, his voice a little shaky. “And if you want to call me Will, I guess . . . I guess I can agree to that. But it won’t be easy, and I might snap at you on occasion. That name—it’s only associated with bad things. At least, it is for me.”

“Not for me. Will is the only positive thing that happened to me that summer.” I turn to face him, resting my hand against his cheek as I stare up into his eyes. Our legs tangle together and he has both of his arms around me now, holding me close. He’s so warm, so solid and firm and strong, and all mine, if I want him.

And I do want him. So much, my bones ache and my blood sings and my heart races in anticipation.

“You make me want to be him again. To be Will,” he admits, dipping his head so our mouths are mere inches away from each other. “That’s something I never thought would happen.”

“I like that.” He kisses me, stealing my words, and I let him, getting lost in the taste of his lips, warm and damp, his tongue seeking mine, his hands wandering all over my bare skin. I lose myself in his taste, in his touch, my hands everywhere, too, touching as much of him as I can.

The last time I saw Sheila, she told me I needed to be patient with Will. I needed to understand his feelings about the two names, the divide of his life. He was once Will and now he’s Ethan. He might never want to combine the two, no matter how much I do want to merge them.

“Katie.” He whispers my name against my lips as he rolls me over so I’m lying beneath him, his hips pressed to mine. I open my eyes to find him studying me, his dark gaze roaming all over my face. “I need to know that you’re with me not just because I’m Will, but because you like the man I am today, too. We can’t remain stuck in our past.”

“I don’t want us stuck in our past,” I start to explain but he shakes his head once, cutting me off.

“I need you here,” he says. “Now. I want you in my present, in my future. I don’t ever want to let you go.”

I stare up at him, see the uncertainty in his eyes, the fear. He’s scared of my answer and I’m terrified of disappointing him.

But worse, I’m even more terrified of losing him. I can’t imagine doing that. Not again. Not ever.

“I’m here for you,” I say, my voice strong, so loud I hear Molly offer up a little bark in answer. “Right now. And I care about you. Not just as the boy I knew in my past, but the man that you are, too. I need you in my life. I don’t—I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re never going to lose me. I’ll make sure of that.” He kisses me, taking over, taking command. Raining kisses all over my skin, his fingers between my legs, spreading my thighs, pushing himself inside me, his mouth fused with mine as he rocks into me, again and again, until I’m lost. Lost in the feeling, lost in him. Ethan.

Will.

The boy of my past. The man of my future. The one I can never, ever let go.