Michael walked the few blocks to Kate’s hotel, his nerves twisting like melted steel with each step. It had been a few days since the showdown with Dustin. He still couldn’t believe everything that had happened.

When he reached Kate’s room, he stood in front of her door, trying to figure out the right words.

His arm felt heavy as he lifted it to knock. The pain from the gunshot wound and the bruises from the accident were still fresh and very much active. But some other weight was dragging him down.

“Hi,” she said in a small voice once opening it.

He studied her as he entered the room. She looked better than yesterday. Her face had its natural glow back, and her eyes looked a little brighter. “How are you?”

She rubbed her hands against her thighs and gave him a slight nod. “As good as can be expected.” She took a seat on the leather sofa. “How’s Julia? You saw her today, right?” She teased her tongue between her teeth before biting her lower lip.

She was nervous. Was she nervous because of him?

“Yeah, I saw her.” He took a seat in the chair across from the sofa.

“Does she know everything?” Her voice quivered a little with each word.

He nodded and looked down at the ground, lacing his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees. “When are you planning to go back home?” There. He’d said it.

She scooted back on the sofa a little and looked out the glass balcony door. “I’m not going back home. I’m going to rent a place in Boston. I can’t live in the same city as my father right now.”

“What about here?” He wasn’t sure what his own question implied, but he had to ask.

“Michael, I—I don’t know if we should—” She stopped herself. “Dustin forced us to be together for his own game, and now . . .”

“Dustin is not why we were together. He didn’t manufacture my feelings for you.”

“And what feelings might those be?” She lifted her brows and focused her blue-green eyes on him.

Shit. She wanted him to say it, didn’t she? She didn’t believe he was really capable of handling her heart without breaking it. But what could he say? “I care about you, Kate. I told you at the cabin that I wanted to give you more.”

“And what does more mean? I’m sorry to do this right now, but after everything we’ve been through, I need to know where we stand. I need to know if I’m making the right decision.”

“You mean the decision to leave Charlotte? To move to Boston?” He straightened in his chair.

“I don’t know. I guess. I just found out I’ve been living a lie. Nothing seems real . . . So much for making plans, right?” She faked a laugh and smoothed a hand over her cheek. “I’m trying to understand this thing between us. You’re the man who doesn’t do commitment, who was seeing someone else while sleeping with me . . . I just don’t know.”

What the hell was she talking about? What woman? “I’ve only slept with you.”

“The redhead.” Her cheeks deepened to a rosy hue as if she were embarrassed by her jealousy.

“Trisha?” Michael stood, needing to be grounded to say what he was about to. “I told you—we’re friends. Nothing happened between us. Nothing would ever happen between us.” He could tell she needed more by the way she averted her eyes. “The day I was shot in Afghanistan, I lost a lot of friends,” he explained slowly. “One of them was Eddie, and he left behind a wife. He was the only one of us who was married, and I promised myself I would look after her, always, for him.”

He watched as Kate’s gaze shifted toward his. She stared at him, blinking a few times. “September is a rough month for her, and for me. It’s the anniversary of the day he died. I guess her feelings for me got a little muddled, and she kissed me. I explained to her that I could never feel that way for her. She agreed—she was embarrassed, even. She wanted to see me again to apologize.” He moved toward the couch and sat beside her. “I should have told you, but this stuff is hard for me to talk about. You know that.”

She reached for his hand and held it. The gesture sent a jolt through his system. God, he cared about this woman—more than she could possibly understand. But he fought the urge to take her in his arms and hold her—to promise her that everything would be okay.

He didn’t know the future. He didn’t know if he could promise her forever. He released her hand and was back on his feet, moving toward the window.

She rose from the couch and approached him, standing by his side.

“What we have is real, but I don’t know how much of me there is left to give.”

His words must have alarmed her because she took a step away.

“Kate.” He faced her and extended his arm, but she slipped out of reach. “I’m not too different from Dustin if you think about it. I’ve killed countless people. I’ve taken lives without hesitation when ordered. I would have killed Dustin if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“You’re nothing like him.” Standing across the room from him now, she turned her back.

He lowered his head and focused on the plush carpet beneath his shoes. He heard the distant sound of the radio playing from the nearby bedroom. It was Sam Smith’s song, “Stay With Me.” How perfect . . .

The lyrics sounded in his ears, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. “I don’t know if I’m going back into the military, Kate. And as much as I care about you—I can’t let you be like Trisha.” He paused and tried to fight the pain that was slowly seeping inside him. “I can’t be Eddie. I can’t be off in the Middle East worrying about you. I can’t leave behind a woman I—”

She faced him, her eyes watery. “I’ve fallen for you, Michael. I’ve never truly felt this way before. I didn’t want to. Not yet. I had plans.” Her hands trembled.

Her and her damn plans.

“But I can’t try and turn you into something you’re not. I can’t ask you to give me more if you’re not ready. I’m going to leave tomorrow as planned.”

He watched as she tried to slip a mask over her face, to shield her emotions, but he knew better. He felt as shredded, just as broken. “Kate—”

“No, don’t. Don’t say anything.” She turned back away from him. “Please, go.”

He stared at her long blonde hair, dying to run his hands through it. He wanted to kiss her. To lose himself. To feel human.

But it was pointless. He’d never be able to shake the pain of his memories away. He’d never be the man Kate deserved.

And so, he forced his feet to the door.