I was already regretting this. Is this a mistake? Will he be happy to see me? Or, was it as I’d already imagined? That I’d been mistaken when I believed he loved me. Was it possible that I should have listened to my brain and not my heart? I heard the doorknob turning. My hands started to sweat. My pulse jumped under my skin. Heat spread from the center of my chest. I was awake. I wanted to see him. I wanted him to be happy to see me.

I’d never been to Italy. It had always been one of those bucket list places. But you aren’t here on vacation. Despite the coastal charm of Sanremo and Lucas’s ocean-front flat, I wasn't here for fun.

So why are you standing in the dark in his apartment, giving him no option but to talk to you?

Well, I wanted him to be happy to see me, but I also wanted to make sure he couldn’t run away this time before I got some answers. If I was going to do this, come all the way to Italy so that I could save his life, he was going to give me something for my pain and suffering. I wanted answers. All the answers to all the questions.

Why did he leave me? Did he make up excuses so he could leave me? Does he still love me?

No, not that one.

I wasn’t going to ask that one. Because that one didn’t matter. At least that’s what I told myself. I didn’t care if he still loved me or not. I had a job to do and I was going to do it. Get him home. Easy peasy. Conversation. Tell him it was dangerous and that we needed him back. Done and dusted.

Except when he stepped through the door, the rush of emotion was unexpected. It lodged in my throat, making me unable to talk, and my eyes brimmed with tears. He was alive. Obviously. Was that even him? He closed the door quietly and took off his jacket. He didn’t turn on the lights at first, though. He just strolled toward the kitchen, pulled open the fridge, pulled something out, turned around, and finally hit the lights.

There he was, beautiful tanned skin, tall, broad shouldered. My eyes ran over him, drinking in every detail. One last lingering look before I’d have to give him up forever. Dark hair, wind-blown. Dark eyes, intense, shrewd, flat and deadly. Muscles pulled tight and taut over his shoulders. And then my gaze traveled down to his strong arms. Tanned forearms on display, right to the end of the gun in his hands. “Oh God, it’s just me, don’t shoot.”

He cursed low and immediately put the gun down. “Fuck Bryna, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He stared at me. “You didn’t mean to startle me? But what the fuck are you doing in my apartment? In the dark? I could have killed you just now.”

“Like I said, I’m sorry.”

He sagged. He tried to take little steps toward me and then stopped. His gaze searched my face. “Are you okay?”

I nodded even though it was a lie. “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess that question is really for you. Are you okay?”

He rolled his shoulders back. “How did you find me, Bryna?”

“Does it matter? I’m here now. And you’re bloody.”

He sighed. “Yeah, it seems to come with the territory. You’re not answering my questions. How did you find me?”

“I don’t think you’re asking the right questions, Lucas.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

I don’t know how long we stood like that, neither one of us really talking, but instead watching each other, locked in a dance of where we might have been if we’d been willing. Finally, he softly said, “I’m so sorry.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him it was okay, that I was okay. But was I really? I hadn’t been okay in months.

I looked at him, met his gaze and told him the truth of what I’d been feeling for the last three months. “No, I’m not okay. How the hell would you feel if someone abandoned you in the middle of the night?”

Abandoned.

Way to go genius. I knew I’d hurt her, but somehow, I’d assumed I’d been the one who was more devastated.

Her voice was soft when she asked, “Did you mean it?”

My heart squeezed. I knew what she was asking me. Does she really have to ask that question?

“Bryna…“

“It’s a simple question Lucas, did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

“Yes, I fucking meant it. I understand you’re pissed that I left, but it was for your own good. It was for your own sanity. I was keeping you safe. Just now, some idiot with a knife tried to carve a chunk out of me. That’s the kind of assholery I was bringing to your door. I did you a favor.” Each word that tore out of me was like a slice to my soul.

“A favor? So instead of acting like an adult and telling me, ‘Hey, while this is awesome, it’s probably the wrong timing, and uh, I’m going to bounce,’ you snuck off in the middle of the night like a thief.”

I recoiled as if she’d hit me. “Real nice.”

“Oh, don’t you dare do that. Act like I insulted you. You are a fucking thief.”

Yeah, she had a point there. “So what? You’re mad at me, because… what, I didn’t call the morning after?” A hint of nastiness slid into my voice. I didn’t want her emotions spilling all over me. I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t want to see the pain in her face.

You don’t want her to know how much it hurt you to leave her.

Funny little thing, she was fast. I almost missed the quick swing of her hand. I ducked back to avoid it, but her fingertips still managed to tap part of my cheek. I stared at her. I don’t think she’d ever actually hit someone before in her life.

She stared at me, eyes wide, mouth parted in horror.

“Bryna—"

Her other hand swung out. This one connected, surprising us both.

I reached for her, and she darted out of the way. “Fuck you, Lucas.”

I couldn’t help it. I didn’t mean to laugh. It just came out that way. Which only pissed her off more, making her swing out at me again. This one I caught the full brunt of. “The first one, yeah, I deserved. The second one, I was definitely asking for. The third one, no. You don’t get to be pissed off at me when I was trying to protect you.”

“You’re such an asshole. You have to look like you believe what you’re saying. Just tell me I was a fucking lousy lay and leave like every other normal guy in the world. Don’t act like you actually like me.”

I gripped her hip. “Is that what you fucking think? That night? Both nights? You destroyed me.”

Her eyes went wide. My grip only tightened on her. My body knew, that now that I had her in my hold, I would be a fool to let her go again.

“It’s like you crawled inside me and utterly destroyed me. Touching you burned everything else to ash your fire was so hot. That’s what it felt like to be with you.”

I didn’t mean to pull her close. I knew that I was a fool to do it. It was a bad idea. So terrible. But I couldn’t help it. She gasped. It was barely audible, but I heard her. Her pupils dilated, and her lips parted. “It fucking destroyed me to leave you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me. Walking away from you shredded my soul. You’re the first person to ever fucking love me.”

She blinked rapidly then. Her lips parted as if she was going to say something, but then she stopped herself. “I don’t believe you.” But her voice broke, telling me that she was starting to believe me. She understood what I went through when I walked away. The hitch in her voice also told me something else, something I was afraid to hear. She still loved me. And that hurt her. It hurt to know that. Even though I knew it from the beginning. I knew walking away from her would hurt her, but that in the long run, it would be the best decision for her.

“Just answer the question. Did you mean it?”

“Yes, I fucking love you. Now, what are you doing here?”

She wiggled in my arms, trying to break my hold. She was close enough I could feel her curves pressing into my muscles, and I wanted to lock her there forever. But I wanted her to tell me why she was here, why was she opening up the wounds that had finally started to scab over after picking at them day-in and day-out. Picking at the memories of the way she looked at me as I’d made love to her. Memories of the way she’d held on to me, whispering my name, ‘Lucas...’ Those memories had sliced me raw, night after night, moment after moment. It had been an effort to get through every day. And now she was here, smelling like gardenias and sin, and tempting me back into the abyss just when I’d started to not feel again. “Why are you here?”

Even before she answered, I knew I was going to do something stupid. But it almost didn’t matter. I couldn’t help it. “Tell me why the fuck you’re here.”

“I love you, you idiot.”

“Good. I love you too.” And then I dipped my head and slid my lips over hers.