The sweet, stunningly good-looking bearer of bad news kept following me.

“Why are you still here?” I demanded, then immediately wanted to take back my words. I wanted to take back all my rudeness since he’d been here. I didn’t know what came over me around him, and I didn’t like acting this way. He garnered anything but indifference from me. I’d turned into a class-A bitch that I never wanted to be.

Although I’d told Trent repeatedly that I never wanted to see him again, that wasn’t true. He was just too much for me to handle. Was it a Pavlovian response? See Trent, and instead of salivating, I yelled?

To be honest, he made me salivate, too.

He apologized with his eyes. Those mesmerizing eyes. “Look. I didn’t come to Spain without warning you. I sent you an email,” he breathed, jogging next to me. “I hoped you’d respond so we could meet at the airport.” He smiled. “Guess I should have known you never check it.”

“You did? What did you say?”

“It just said to get in touch with me as soon as possible. I would’ve come wherever you were. It was too important. I didn’t want to tell you by phone or an email.”

That earned him a small smile. “I appreciate that.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me for having to deliver the news.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, noncommittal. We kept going. Having him so close to me meant I could check him out while pretending I wasn’t. Those muscles that had been suggested but hidden by his T-shirt in class were now on full display—a broad chest and back, narrow waist, and flat abs going to his sweatpants waistband. His belly moved in a sensual way when he inhaled. A taut V-line stretched over his hips and dipped down to what was surely goodness below. Instead of dropping in his face, his thick hair slicked back with sweat, showing off his eyes. Perspiration glowed on his golden chiseled torso—no blotchy redness for him.

Goddamn beautiful man.

We passed by rows and rows of fragrant roses in every color, almost up to my shoulders. In silence, we completed another half turn around the park together.

Running brought me the clarity I lacked earlier.

Just seeing him in Spain changed me. I liked to go through life living in my own fairytale, creating my own pretty world. In the past several years I’d been all over the world—Peru, Ecuador, Japan, Vietnam, Italy, and now Spain, just to name a few of the dozens of places.

Meeting people. Experiencing the moment. Moving on.

When he showed up, he obliterated my fairytale. Poof. Now I had to deal with the real world. Not only did he remind me of people I’d lost, he reminded me of people back in California I hadn’t thought of since I’d left and hadn’t looked back. Like, I wondered how Trent’s parents were doing, how old friends were nowadays. Had I been so self-centered in my own little world that nothing else mattered?

Mierda. I liked my world. It kept me safe. I didn’t have to deal with ugly things. There was a reason why we created our own worlds. They protected us. It wasn’t selfish to do that.

Right?

Then my stomach sunk.

Wrong.

As I ran, I internally cringed. Memories came flooding into my brain that I’d suppressed.

The last thing I’d shouted to Degan before he left.

The crushing guilt from our argument.

How I could never get any of that back. Ever.

I’d really fucked up.

If I didn’t do something, I’d start crying for the millionth time since Trent had shown up. I was never much of a crier, but the past two days I’d gone through a whole box and a half of Kleenex.

No more. I was gonna run it out of my system.

Lifting my knees, I sped up, needing to make yet another loop around the large park.

“Jesus, Dani, hang on,” he called, and hastened his pace to keep up with me.

Faster and faster we went, passing people on park benches, grand fountains, and hundreds of scented rosebushes. The evening sun faded into dusk. Lights started to come on in the buildings lining the park. And still I pounded the trail, and he met me step for step.

No matter how fast I ran, I’d never escape what I’d done.

My lungs were going to burst, and I had a stitch in my side. The gates of the park were in sight. I slowed to a jog, wiping my brow.

“I could barely keep up with you,” he panted, still not red-faced. “You’re amazing.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t amazing. Try, horrible.

The blood pumping in my veins right now though told me that I was alive, and if I was still alive, I had an opportunity to fix my mistakes. Even those that weren’t fixable.

Or at least I could try.

“You okay?”

I nodded again. I wasn’t okay, but I would be.

He went to reach out to grab my hand, then stopped. “I’d like to talk to you some more.” His powerful gaze made me realize that even though he was being polite and asking, he wasn’t gonna take no for an answer. Not any more.

“Okay,” I said. I wanted to stop feeling these violent, erratic mood swings that I’d felt since I learned he was coming. I knew from yoga—and Lulu’s lecture—that sometimes the only way out of something was through. So I’d go through whatever I needed to with him.

He smiled like he’d just won the Spanish lottery. “For real?”

“Yeah.” And I gave him a true smile back. Feeling comforted by his presence, I had to admit that he gave me a sense of security I hadn’t felt with anyone else for a long time. If I could only reach out and touch his soft, supple skin, shining under his perspiration. Give him a hug. Dissolve the tension. But no, I just needed to work out some things with him. That was all.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” I continued. “I’ve been so pissed at you because you got my brother into the army.” He opened his mouth to protest, but I interrupted him. “Not a word. Let me talk. He’s between us. Degan is between us.”

His eyes pierced mine. “Yeah. He is.”

“He might always be between us. I don’t know. But I want to try to work things out with you.”

“You don’t know how happy that makes me.”

“Don’t get too many ideas. You’re the annoying friend of my little brother, who’s all grown up now.”

“Thanks,” he said with a sarcastic snort. Then his gaze locked on mine. “You’re the phenomenal sister of my best friend, who I’ve wanted my entire life.”

Oh. Heavens. If he kept that stuff up, I’d melt into goo before I made it back to my apartment. I didn’t know what to say to that.

We reached the end of the park and slowed to a walk, our chests still heaving from the run.

“Maybe we can meet up after class Friday,” I said.

“I’d like that. I’ll walk you home.”

* * *

The background noises of Granada, while muffled in the tree-lined park, returned as we crossed the busy street and headed back. Mopeds, scooters, small cars, and small trucks roared up the streets and prowled at the stops, willing the lights to change to green.

A normal, noisy city.

Trent, though, tensed. The muscles in his arms flicked, his shoulders straightened, and his eyes darted from place to place, wary. As we made our way back to the central part of town, Trent flinched with each loud engine—and there were a lot of them.

A stream of four mopeds went by, and he cowered.

Then a Vespa scooter dallied past us with an underwhelming Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner beep-beep horn, but I could see his breath becoming erratic.

When a larger delivery truck thundered by, I thought he’d pass out.

While my breathing had returned to normal from our run, his stayed elevated, and his face whitened.

Suddenly Euro-police sirens went off, seemingly all around us. Eee-oh, eee-oh, sounding like Minions. Two passed by, the Doppler effect of the sound getting louder and then fading.

I watched them go. There must have been an accident.

The blades of a helicopter cut through the night, hovering over us and then going off into the distance.

Under a streetlight, I glanced over at Trent, who’d gone so pale I thought he’d faint. His legs shook and his hands trembled.

What on earth was going on?

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” he said curtly.

He wasn’t. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No. I just need a minute.” He leaned over and put his hands on his knees.

“You’re not okay. Maybe that run was too much. Come with me. Let’s sit.” I guided him to the alcove of a building with a little step. He grasped the wall behind him for support, then sank to the ground, sitting against the building, his knees up, his head between them, breathing hard.

“Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“No. I’m fine,” he said to the ground, his muscles clenched everywhere. He held his hand over his face, slicking back his hair repeatedly.

“You don’t look fine.”

“It’s nothing, Dani,” he snapped. “It’s just in my head.”

Then it dawned on me.

He’d seen my brother die.

That sobbing lump that I thought I got out of my system came welling up. My heart seized in my chest.

What else had he seen in Afghanistan?

A flash of anger tore through me at his fallen appearance. He had post-traumatic stress.

I’d spent years of my life helping people in other countries. But here was one of my own compatriots, and look how we treated him? What had he gone through? And why did we as a society do this to our young men and women?

I guess at some point, it didn’t matter why. We, as a society, had sent him to a war zone, and he bore the scars. As Audrey Hepburn said, “I don’t believe in collective guilt, but I do believe in collective responsibility.”

I was responsible for helping make Trent well again.

This poor, broken man. This brave, brave soul.

“Trent,” I said quietly, getting down next to him. I put my hand on his shoulder, and his skin twitched. “Look at me. It’s okay. You’re in Granada with me. You’re safe. Nothing is going to happen to you here.”

He shook his head. “Goddamn it. I wish…I wish I didn’t do this.”

How often did he suffer like this?

“It’s okay. I’m here with you. Take a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, like the yogis do. Let your lungs fill up. Let your belly get bigger. Then let it out. We’re gonna go slow. Get your breathing under control.”

He closed his eyes and did what I said. I reached over and held his hand. His long, slim hand, covered with healthy veins, clutched my fingers firmly. Pedestrians passed by us, but I ignored them. I only focused on him.

Breathing in and out. Breathing in and out. All the while, I was thinking if I shut him out, I shut out my brother, too. I didn’t want to do that. As painful as it was, I loved my brother. And I was sure Trent loved him also.

Maybe I didn’t have to leave Spain. Maybe I could stay in the same city as Trent. Maybe I could become his friend. Maybe the path to forgiveness was paved with a lot of sweat and tears.

I wanted to get to know the man when I’d only ever known the boy.

After a few minutes of breathing, his muscles relaxed and his color returned. We let go of each other’s hands. He went to get up, but I stopped him. “Stay with me.”

“Okay.”

We sat in the doorway watching the pedestrians. The mopeds kept coming. The scooters kept coming, but he seemed to get his thoughts under control.

“You ready to go back?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Hostel Central Granada.”

“That’s near my place. Come on. Let’s get you home.”

“No. I’ll walk you.” Always a gentleman. Always courteous.

I stood up, then extended my hand to help him up. But I didn’t let go of it once we started walking again. Several blocks up, after passing restaurants and bars just opening up for the night, we made it to my apartment door.

“Meet you Friday to talk?”

“Sure.” For once, it didn’t feel like I was running away. “I’ll see you in class first,” I said, stepping inside.

He turned and left before the door was shut.

Part of me wanted to run after him. To hold him all night long while he got out whatever demons were chasing him.

I couldn’t do that, though. And I wondered if I ever could.

* * *

After Trent dropped me off, I ran up the stairs, got into my apartment, tore off my clothes, and paced, naked.

I saw tonight the damage the army inflicted on our veterans. Even ones like Trent, who physically was unharmed. The psychological scars cut deep. I’d work through those things with him, even if it charred me in the process.

And I couldn’t help but like him. A lot.

For now, I needed a shower, and time to think.

Degan’s letter sat on the table, unopened. I didn’t know if I could ever get the nerve to open it. It just felt so final. Like I’d never be able to hear anything new from him again if I opened it. So I just let it sit there.

Turning on the water, I waited for it to heat up. Maybe I needed more butane from the tío de butano.

Trent and I had a lot in common, and it wasn’t just my brother. He liked to watch me, and I liked being watched. Probably part of the reason why I enjoyed being a teacher—feeling the eyes of students on me. But when he watched me, it was special, the way his eyes lit up when he saw me. I could wear that as a garment. Clothe myself in his spirit and never let it go.

I didn’t like being his teacher, though. And I was older than him, although he didn’t feel younger than me. His eyes had seen so much, and he was much older than the other students. Afghanistan matured him.

Stepping in the shower, the water massaged my shoulders, my torso.

I almost felt the weight of him in my arms, remembering what it felt like to kiss him so long ago and how he felt the other day. He still smelled the same. He was sturdy, like he could pick up anything I put down, and could carry me away with him.

Unbidden, Lulu’s words came back to me: never underestimate the inclination to bolt. That phrase suddenly hit me with truth bomb clarity.

My inclination was always to bolt.

Abusive and controlling ex-boyfriend? I left town. Too stressed on the job? I quit and found another. I didn’t like a party? Buh-bye.

I’d always figured that leaving was a form of self-care. If I didn’t want to have to deal with something, I removed it from my life. That’s what a strong woman did—didn’t put up with shit. I was never the victim. Always in charge.

But was there something wrong with that? Was I running from things that I needed to face?

Like Trent.

Just seeing his name on my roster made my emotions zing. And then being in his presence? He took over my whole world, making me forget that there were any students other than him. At the same time he reminded me of all I’d lost.

The water washed away the run, but it also washed away a lot of my bad feelings. I felt a deeper relaxation than I’d felt in days as the shower streamed over my hair.

Granada had a history of severe droughts, so I knew I had to take a short shower. I turned off the water to soap up.

But as I felt the soap between my legs, I started thinking that I didn’t want to be Trent’s friend. Not after the feelings I had for him years ago. And how he looked at and treated me now.

It was so forbidden.

Was that what I was feeling? The thrill of doing something I shouldn’t? Going for a younger man, and my student?

Oh, why did he have to be a student? Did it matter? What would it be like to feel that beautiful body next to mine?

Dangerous ideas, Danika.

My finger lingered on my clit, rubbing it, feeling the sensual pleasure. With my other hand, I took the shower nozzle off the holder and turned it on, adjusting the spray so it was more vigorous.

As it went between my legs, I found myself wishing it was Trent, licking my clit, taking control. Taking me over.

That was the even more forbidden thought. What would it be like to stay? To see what would happen with him?

To allow him power?

As I stroked myself, I found myself more and more turned on by the idea.

God.

Him.

Beautiful man.

I wanted him to be mine.

Sleeping in my bed that night, clean and in the nude, pressing a vibrator to my clit, I dreamed of him making me come.