I wander around my little house, feeling anxious. A little lost. Excited. Nervous.

Sleep eluded me completely last night. I tossed and turned, my thoughts full of my sister. My past. Looking for clues that she was unhappy, feeling neglected, full of resentment. Wracking my brain, I couldn’t find a one. Not that I’d paid much attention to her. I was too focused internally. Consumed with my own pain, my suffering, to worry about anyone else’s. And throughout that turbulent time, Brenna had done nothing but give me support.

Yes, our relationship before the kidnapping had been a wreck. She was fifteen and an irritable, moody teenager. I was her pain-in-the-butt little sister who wanted nothing but acceptance. I didn’t get it—Brenna wanted nothing to do with me. She treated me horribly. I was the one oozing resentment before everything happened. The day at the amusement park I was so mad at her, and I know she was mad at me.

Well, not necessarily mad. We were just . . . annoyed with each other. It was a constant state in our house. Drove our parents crazy.

The one thing that kept me awake long into the night was the realization that maybe I was the selfish one. I never gave anyone a second thought. It was always about me.

Me, me, me.

I never considered what Brenna had to go through, or my parents, or even Will. I was too overwhelmed with my own pain to notice anyone else’s. And I feel terrible for that.

I feel . . .

Ashamed.

That Brenna barged into my house and essentially told me I couldn’t see Ethan any longer riled me up. Who is she to tell me what to do? I’m an adult, allowed to make as many mistakes as I want. I refuse to let her boss me around. If I want Ethan in my life, he’ll be there. She can’t stop me.

Feeling defiant, I’d texted him. Just to see if he’d respond. Deep down inside, I knew he would. And he didn’t disappoint me. That I was brazen enough to invite him to my home says I’m not thinking clearly. But I don’t think Brenna’s been thinking real clearly lately, either.

So. Is Ethan turning into a case of wanting what I can’t have?

Quite possibly.

We don’t live in the same town, yet he’s willing to drop everything to come see me. Am I testing him? Seeing just how far he’ll go to see me, help me, spend time with me?

I take a quick shower and painstakingly do my makeup, though I don’t want it to look too obvious. I blow-dry my hair straight, making a face at my reflection when I’m done. I am totally trying too hard.

I’m halfway dressed when there’s a knock on my door. Glancing around my bedroom, I grab my leggings and tug them on, yelling, “Just a minute!” when Ethan knocks again.

By the time I make it to the door I’m a flustered, breathless mess. I undo the locks and pull the door open to find Ethan standing on my doorstep, a pink box in one hand and a tray of . . . four coffees balanced in the other. He smiles when he sees me, a slow, sensuous curve of his perfect mouth, and my stomach flutters with anticipation.

“Your breakfast,” he says, his voice deadly serious, the complete opposite of the twinkle in his gaze.

I hold the door open wider for him. “Come in.”

He hesitates before crossing the threshold. “Are you sure, Katie?” His voice is low, his expression solemn. That he’s double-checking touches something deep within me and I nod, my cheeks flushing when he murmurs, “Thank you,” as he walks past me.

I shut the door and turn to watch him as he heads for my kitchen. I follow him, my gaze eating him up. Last time we saw each other, I’d still been angry. Panicked because Lisa Swanson was nearby. So unfocused I couldn’t appreciate having him close. Heck, I wasn’t appreciating his closeness. I was too mad at him.

Now, I let my gaze linger on his perfect dark gray sweatpant-covered butt. He has on a thick black fleece zip-up jacket and a beanie that covers almost all of his hair. Only a few wild strands peek out from the bottom. He turns to face me as he sets the food and drink on the kitchen table and I take in his familiar, handsome face.

All at once, it hits me. That this man, who’s so completely invaded my life, is also attached to my past. That this is Will. My Will. The boy who saved me has grown into an attractive, thoughtful man. He may have tricked me to get back into my life, but I’m starting to realize that maybe it wasn’t because he wanted to play a cruel game.

More like he wanted to find a way to be close to me.

“You look good,” he says as I approach the table. I don’t return the compliment, suddenly feeling shy.

“Extra thirsty this morning?” I point at the four to-go cups sitting in the cardboard tray. “Or am I having unexpected company?”

He smiles. “I wasn’t sure what you might want.”

“So you brought a variety?” I raise my brows.

“Two for you, two for me.” He looks sheepish. “Though I’m probably hopped up on enough coffee already. I’ve been guzzling it since four.”

“In the morning?” I reach for one of the coffees and pull it from the tray, reading the side of the cup. “A vanilla latte. One of my favorites.”

Ethan nods toward the pink box. “Check out what I brought you. Make sure it meets with your approval first.”

I set the latte down and pry off the pink lid, sucking in a breath when I see what’s inside. Nothing but chocolate doughnuts with sprinkles, but such a wide variety of them my heart actually skips with delight when I take them all in.

Three are Halloween-themed ones with black and orange sprinkles and doughnuts with a fall theme with orange and yellow sprinkles. Others are either solid pink, or white, and a few rainbow sprinkle–covered ones are in there, too. I count the doughnuts, realizing we definitely have over a dozen. I glance up at him, my gaze meeting his once more.

“A dozen and a half,” he tells me, like he can read my mind. “I wanted to cover all my bases.”

“This is . . .” My voice drifts and I shake my head. “Amazing. Thank you.”

“Thank you for letting me come over.” He hesitates, shifting on his feet. “Truth? I figured I’d never see you again.”

“I don’t think we can fight it any longer,” I tell him quietly as I pull a chair out and settle in. Grabbing a doughnut out of the box, I snag a napkin from the nearby holder and set the doughnut on top of it. “Plus I wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?” He sits across the table from me, grabs a doughnut, one with orange sprinkles on top, and takes a big bite out of it.

“My sister. She told me she talked to you yesterday.”

He pauses in his chewing, then swallows. “Yeah.” His voice is raw. “She did.”

I almost don’t want to ask, but I have to know. “What did she say?”

“She’s watching out for you. That’s all.”

“That’s not enough.” I shake my head, frustrated. “Tell me what she said.”

The pain that fills his gaze tells me she said awful, horrible things. Things he probably doesn’t want me to know about. “Let’s just say that Brenna doesn’t like me very much. And the truth—it hurts.”

I can say nothing in return.

We’re quiet as we eat our doughnuts, separately contemplating the conversation with Brenna. I have no idea what was said, while Ethan knows that she said too much, took it too far.

“I didn’t ask her to do that,” I say after what felt like hours of uncomfortable silence, but was most likely only a minute.

“I know you didn’t. But she said some things we have to consider.”

I was contemplating having a second doughnut, but my appetite evaporates at his tone. “Like what?”

“Like the fact that we probably shouldn’t be together.”

“Then why are you here?” I lift my gaze to his, rubbing my thumb under the plastic lid of the to-go cup, flicking it back and forth.

“Because you call or text and I will always come running, Katie,” he admits, his dark gaze locked with mine. The air expels from my lungs in one solid exhalation, taking with it my heart, my soul. The way he says that, the look in his eyes, tells me he’s sincere.

He would do anything for me, regardless of whether I wanted his help or not. He’d just . . . be there.

“I know,” I whisper. “And that’s not fair of me, taking advantage of you.” I pause, then decide to go for it. “What happened with the interview?”

“With Lisa?” He makes an irritated face, his mouth drawing into a thin line. “I don’t want to talk to her. We’re just opening old wounds, Katie.”

“You want to move on?”

“I’ve always wanted to move on. It’s never been about the past, not for me. The connection we have is real and was formed all those years ago, but there’s more to us than what we suffered through together. You have to realize this,” he says, his gaze pleading.

His words touch me deeply. I know he’s right, but it’s still hard for me to put together that Will and Ethan are one and the same.

“Do you want another doughnut?” He nudges the box toward me and I stare at it. His abrupt change of subject is startling. Clearly he doesn’t want to talk about this.

Slowly I shake my head. “I think I’ll wait for later. Thank you for bringing them. They’re beautiful.”

He smiles. “I’ve never heard doughnuts described as beautiful before.”

“Well, they are, with their variety of colors.” I lean back in my chair, admiring him. “I like the hat.”

“Ah.” He rests his hand on top of it, then tugs it off, leaving his dark hair an adorable mess. “I forgot I had it on. It was cold this morning.”

“Yeah, it was.” I tilt my head, cross my arms in front of my chest. “What did you have planned today?”

He looks startled by my question. “What do you mean?”

“It’s going to be a beautiful Saturday. I wondered if you had any plans.” I shrug, hoping he thinks my question is casual.

It’s not.

“You know what I really want to do?”

“Definitely.”

“I wanted to go see about a dog.”

I frown at him. “A dog?”

“Yeah. Go to the local animal shelter and find one to bring home. Not a cute puppy, though. Everyone gets one of those. I’m looking for a dog who’s like a year or two old and doesn’t have a chance in hell of getting adopted.” His eyes grow dim. “I want to save the one nobody else wants.”

Of course he does. Because he thinks of himself as the one nobody else wants.

“But it’s just an idea,” he says with a shrug. “I probably won’t go through with it.”

“You should,” I tell him quietly.

“You think so?” He raises a brow. “You should probably get one, too.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” I’ve thought about having a pet, but I never manage to get around to finding one. A dog might be too high maintenance. I’d probably do better with a cat.

“A dog would make you feel safe. Warn you if there was someone coming to your door or hanging around your house at night.” He pauses, his gaze intense. “I don’t like thinking of you here all alone, Katie.”

Last night’s uneasy feeling comes back with a vengeance. “I’m fine.”

“You lock your doors, right? I don’t mean just at night, but all the time.”

“Of course.” Why is he asking me these questions now? It’s as if he knows I was quietly freaking out last night. That’s probably why I couldn’t sleep. Plus I have a lot on my mind. It never seems to stop spinning; it doesn’t matter what time it is. “I’m beyond cautious.”

“Good,” he says with a finality that sounds very possessive and makes me feel fluttery and nervous. Which is stupid, because I should not be aroused by his protectiveness over me.

But I am.

“Consider a dog, though. There’s no such thing as having too much protection,” he continues.

I nod, sitting forward so I can grab my coffee and finish it off. “I could go with you today to look at dogs, if you want. Help you pick him out.” I need to lighten the mood. I don’t like thinking I need a dog to keep me safe.

“A him, huh?”

“Or a sweet, sweet girl. Whatever you prefer.” I tap my fingers on the table, liking the idea of Ethan with a dog. He doesn’t have anyone. No family, no friends. I hate thinking of him moving through his life alone. He’s already done it for too long. “It would be fun.”

His expression turns somber. “You want to go with me and help me pick out my new dog, Katie?”

“Yes,” I whisper, my gaze dropping when I see him reach out and rest his hand on top of mine. His fingers skim across the back of my hand, sending a scattering of tingles in their wake, and I marvel at the power his touch has over me.

And how I always crave more of it.

“Then let’s go.” His hand drops away and he stands, as do I, fighting the disappointment that swamps me at the loss of his touch.

There will be more opportunities, I tell myself. This isn’t the end.

This could be just the beginning.