Death. I felt like death. Or maybe I was dead; although, surely being dead felt better than this. I was fairly certain I was awake, as dreams felt better than this too. Even the bad ones. I could try opening my eyes, but that sounded dangerous.

The lifesaving aroma of coffee cut into the darkness, past the pressure in my head and the rumbling of my stomach.

Coffee. I hadn’t made coffee. So I was either dreaming or I was….

The night before came back to me in a flash. Waking up in a dark room, making a run for the bathroom and crashing into a wall. My bathroom hadn’t been where I’d thought it would be.

Then vomiting. So much vomiting.

A hand on my back, soothing whispers at my ear.

Walden.

I didn’t remember much after that. Had I finally made it to the bathroom?

My eyes popped open at the thought, and I let out a hiss. The room was dim, but the light coming through the crack in the door was cutting. It didn’t matter. I forced myself to sit up but had to prop my hands on the mattress for support so I didn’t crash back down as the room spun.

Fuck. I was at Walden’s, and I’d thrown up. And not in his bathroom.

Goddammit. Why the hell had I switched to Jäger after so many beers? I knew better. Other events of the evening came back as well. The wedding, the dance, Walden. Yeah, I knew better on all of it, for all the good it did me.

I slowly glanced at the other side of the bed to see if Walden was still there. There was no other side of the bed. I was sprawled over the entire thing. No Walden.

Had we slept together? I couldn’t remember. I also couldn’t remember getting to his house. I had a vague recollection of running after him when I thought he was leaving, but even that was more of a hallucination than anything.

I’d really fucked this up. Royally.

At least I was consistent.

If I had been at my house, I’d lie back down and pass out again, but I couldn’t do that to Walden. Not after last night. I wasn’t sure of all that’d happened, but the things I did remember were bad enough.

Gingerly I slid out of the bed and stood, using the bedpost to make sure I could stay upright. I still had on my pants from the night before. No shirt, no belt, but the pants were the same. And my socks were still on. Probably hadn’t had sex if I was still wearing pants. Surely that was a good thing.

I let go of the bedpost and made it to the doorway. The carpet under my feet was damp and soaked through my left sock. Sure enough, it was wet, but that was all. Even in my impaired state, that wasn’t a mystery. Judging by the size of the wet spot, neither was the level of damage I’d caused.

Goddammit again. Not only had I made a complete jackass of myself in front of the man—in front of Walden—but I’d made him clean up my vomit.

So much for any hope of another night with him. Or anything beyond a night. Maybe that was a blessing in disguise.

I made it out of the bedroom and saw the bathroom directly across. I’d been so close, yet so far. Suddenly the bathroom sounded a little more vital than finding Walden. I went in, keeping the light off, used the toilet, and rinsed my mouth. Opening his medicine cabinet, I found a small bottle of mouthwash. After that and washing my face with cold water, I felt like myself again. Myself with a killer headache, who found it hard to stand and breathe, but better nonetheless.

Now to find Walden. Beg for forgiveness, then crawl away in shame.

I’d forgotten how tiny his house was. Little enough that I made it to the kitchen without stumbling too much or breaking anything. The coffee hadn’t been a hallucination, thank God. There was a rack of mugs by the coffeemaker, so I grabbed one and poured myself a cup. Then I leaned against the counter and nursed from the liquid of life. The light pouring in from the sliding glass doors opposite the dining table was a touch of torture, so I shifted to face the other way, and refocused on the coffee.

Despite my hungover state, with as small as Walden’s house was, I knew I wasn’t overlooking him. He wasn’t exactly miniscule. Maybe he went out to get breakfast? I glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was nearly one in the afternoon. Okay, not breakfast. Maybe lunch?

My brain shut down for a bit, but by the second cup, it started to crank up again, unfortunately. I really had done a number the night before, even by my standards. I was pretty sure I hadn’t destroyed Andrew’s wedding, but I’d disappeared partway through it. Luckily, Andrew knew me enough not to worry. Especially if he’d noticed Walden was gone as well. He’d have reached the right conclusion. Though his version would involve more sex and less vomit on the bedroom floor, but still. I really was a shit. I had a best friend who I was certain was concerned about me at his wedding; I so didn’t deserve him. Nor did I deserve a guy like Walden, who’d taken care of me in my obnoxious state. I didn’t deserve him for even one more night.

One more night.

I kept thinking that. When I’d seen him at the hot springs. Then one night had become two. Then we’d just be friends. For the next two months, I white-knuckled through not contacting him while telling myself that if I still had feelings for him when I saw him again, we’d have one more last night before we jumped full force into the friendship thing.

Then that damned wedding. Seeing Walden while I stood beside Andrew and Joel as they made their vows. Doing my best to keep from staring at him, or looking at him at all. But then the beers. Making everything fuzzy and a little less serious. Causing me to feel like maybe we could have one more night together, or even more than one night. Giving me the courage to ask him to dance—or the stupidity to do so. To dance with him in front of the entire town. Like he deserved that, to be seen dancing with me. It had been one thing being with him at Lake Tahoe. It was completely different in Lavender Shores.

But that dance. Feeling his body sway with mine to the music. The warmth of his breath, the pressure of his muscles, the brush of his hair on my cheek, him growing hard against me as we moved. The way he looked at me, trembled at my touch. He was so easy to read. So easy to see he wanted me, though he shouldn’t. He was much too good for me. The kindest thing I could do would be to walk away. I’d nearly told him that I’d fallen for him. That I loved him. Beer had warning labels about pregnancy. They really should also include warnings against speaking after more than one bottle.

I’d caught myself, though. Those words hadn’t passed my lips. I’d kept them in by kissing him. Fuck. I’d kissed him. There on the dance floor in front of the entire goddamned town!

I should leave. Set the coffee down, find my shirt and keys and get out of his house before he returned from wherever he’d gone.

Wait, I hadn’t driven. Maybe I didn’t even have my keys.

So not the point. I needed to get out of his house. I could walk. I could call Andrew and have him pick me up.

No, holy shit, not Andrew. It was the morning after his wedding. He and Joel were leaving for their honeymoon.

I’d call Lacy. Maybe she’d used her twin powers to know that I needed her and she was already on her way here. One more person I didn’t deserve.

Why was I worried about any of that? The point was to get the hell out of Walden’s house. Get out of his life and leave him well enough alone. He didn’t deserve anything less.

I set the coffee mug on the counter, making sure to do so softly. It was bad enough I’d tossed my cookies on his floor, I didn’t need to break his mug. I’d find my shirt, shoes, and cell phone and close the door on Walden for good. Obviously I wasn’t capable of the friendship thing, not with him. I had to stay completely away.

Just past the kitchen counter, a loud bang drew my attention to the sliding glass doors. I nearly kept going, but I caught a flash of movement against all the brightness. I walked over and peered out. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, and even when they did, the brightness stung, making my eyes water.

Walden.

He hadn’t left after all. He’d been in his backyard the entire time. I hadn’t even realized he had a backyard.

Stupid thought. Why would I have given any consideration to him having a yard or not?

I reached for the door handle. I’d make a quick apology and leave. Maybe it was better to just bolt, but I couldn’t walk away from him without any explanation. Not when he was right there in front of me.

At that moment a cloud must have passed over the sun, as the lighting softened, allowing me to look outside without wincing in too much pain. The sight made me drop my hand and lean against the doorway.

Walden had his back to me, his heavy shoulders and triceps revealed in his sleeveless shirt. His shorts showed off his flexing calves as he kneeled doing something in the dirt by a wooden bridge. As beautiful as he was, he only kept my attention for a moment.

I stared out at Walden’s backyard in wonder. The space was bigger than his entire house. And every inch I could see looked like I’d stepped into a fairy garden. Directly outside the door, for six or seven feet, it was a normal yard—grass, brown wicker patio furniture. Then there was a small lily pad-laden stream that cut through, with only the small dusty blue bridge connecting the two worlds. Beyond the stream was Wonderland. Several large trees spread their branches into a canopy overhead, sheltering the space. Everything was shades of green, broken here and there by patches of flowers and vines. Between the various narrow stone paths, moss-laden boulders, and heavy foliage, it gave the illusion of having stepped into Narnia. Maybe it was the hangover, but somehow combining a fairy garden, Wonderland, and Narnia seemed like the only plausible way such a gorgeous place could exist outside Walden’s tiny, little home.

How the hell had he stumbled into a house like this? I’d never seen anything of the like outside of pictures in magazines and in movies. Gorgeous landscaping, sure, but this was something else. Like an enchanted world right next to his kitchen.

Walden stood, his movement drawing my attention back to him. He turned, wiping his forearm over his brow, and then he looked my way.

I opened the door quickly, suddenly desperate to join him in that magical place. Thankfully, the cloud cover remained, and it only got a little brighter as I stepped outside. “Hey. This is gorgeous. Unbelievable, actually.”

A mix of expressions battled over his face, but finally he smiled. “Thanks. It’s been a lot of work, but it’s coming together.”

“You did all of this? How? You’ve been here less than a year. This looks like it’s been growing for a decade.”

Walden blushed, though he seemed pleased. He walked toward me, making soft clomping sounds over the narrow bridge as he reentered the real world. “Well, I lucked into it. It was basically a jungle when I moved in. The house was great, but whoever lived here hadn’t done a damn thing back here. You know how Lavender Shores is. Things just grow. I spent the first two months just clearing out stuff. I’ve not planted much, besides a few flowers. Adding the stone walks has been the biggest chore, but it really adds to the feel.” He glanced around, his expression changing again. When he turned back to me, I realized what it was. A look I hadn’t seen him wear before. Pride. It suited him. “I call it my secret garden. There’s no cool hidden door or anything, but it felt similar. How it had gone wild, just waiting for someone to love it, care for it. It’s my favorite spot in the world.”

A secret garden. Yeah, that was more accurate than calling it a backyard. It really was breathtaking, but couldn’t compare to the man responsible for it all. He stood there, beaming, sweat running down his face, plastering parts of his sleeveless shirt to his muscles beneath. This place, enchanted as it seemed, wasn’t magic. He was. “Walden and his secret garden. You were named well after all.”

He let out a little snort and looked embarrassed. “I’m glad you like it.”

It hit me as surely as if one of the tree branches above had crashed over my skull.

Walden was beautiful. He was extraordinary. He was the most captivating man I’d ever met. The combination of his darkness, his past, intertwined with this place, what he’d created. As much an expression of art and soul as any of my designs. The remaining puzzle pieces I hadn’t connected about Walden fell into place.

I loved him.

I could pretend otherwise. Pass it off as anything else. Remind myself that even though we’d known each other for months now, it had been really nothing more than a few days together. I could give any excuse, reminder, or reason. It wouldn’t change it.

I was in love with Walden Thompson. Maybe if Andrew hadn’t been my best friend, I wouldn’t have known what to label it. I’d never felt it before, so maybe I would’ve confused it for something else. But Andrew was my best friend. And though I’d never experienced anything close to this before, I was able to recognize it for what it was.

I was in love with Walden.

Well, fuck.

That totally, totally sucked.

“Are you okay?” Walden tossed the spade I hadn’t noticed him holding to the ground as he stood in front of me. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Uhm. Yeah.” I shook my head, which was so the wrong thing to do. I stumbled, but Walden’s strong hand reached out and held me steady. I glanced up into his concerned blue eyes. “I’m okay. Sorry. Just a killer hangover.”

He laughed a bit. “Yeah, I was betting you’d be hurting today. I made coffee, but that was a while ago. I’m not sure if it’s still hot.”

“I had some. It’s the only reason I know my own name. So thank you for that.” I remembered why I was there. I’d forgotten for a moment in the beauty of the garden. In Walden’s beauty. I’d come out to apologize and then leave. I’d forgotten. I met his eyes again. “I’m so sorry about last night. Honestly, I don’t remember all of it. I do recall waking up and getting sick on your floor. I can’t believe—”

“It’s fine.” He reached up with his free hand and smoothed his thumb over my forehead. “You hit the wall pretty hard. I’m surprised you don’t have a knot the size of a tennis ball.”

Despite my best effort, I leaned into his touch. I needed to leave. Walk away from him. But I could have a few more seconds with him touching me. Feeling his skin against mine. “I’m sorry about everything. I don’t even remember us driving here, but if I said anything…. If I did something….” I didn’t want to ask it out loud, but I needed to know for certain, even though I was fairly sure. “Did we…?”

Walden laughed and bugged his eyes out at me. “Really? Sex?” He shook his head, still chuckling. “You were in no shape for sex last night, and as hot as you are, you’re not exactly fuckable when you’re slurring and barely able to stand. No, we didn’t have sex. We didn’t even sleep together. I stayed on the couch.”

Relief cut through me, then more guilt. “You had to sleep on the couch in your own home? God, I’m an asshole. I’m so sorry.” The clouds parted before I could say anything else, and sunlight washed over us, making me cringe in pain and shut my eyes. “Sorry, the world just went atomic.”

“Come on, let’s go inside.” Keeping his stabilizing hold on me, Walden led me back across the yard and into the comfortable lighting of his home. He shut the glass doors behind us. “Better?”

I nodded as my vision came back into focus. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Walden released his hold and took a step away, but not too far.

It was my turn to say something. I could tell. He was waiting for it. But what was I supposed to say? The it he wanted. No, the it I should say. Should. For once in my fucking selfish life, I was going to do what I should. Not what I wanted. Not what felt good. But what I should. I met his glance one more time, briefly, but couldn’t hold it. If I did, I’d kiss him. Which was definitely not what I should do. “I’m sorry again about last night, Walden. Sorry about everything.” I started to head toward the bedroom. “I’ll get my stuff and get out of your hair. You haven’t done anything to deserve putting up with my shit show. I’ll leave you alone after that. I promise.”

I made it maybe five feet before Walden spoke. “I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

“But you should.” I didn’t turn back around, just kept walking.

There were two footsteps on the hardwood floor, and then his hand grabbed my elbow. “You’re right, maybe I should.” With a gentle pull, he angled me back around and waited until I looked at him. “But I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to leave me alone, Gilbert. Not at all.”

He kissed me, and any chance of me doing what I should went up in smoke.