I know exactly where I am the next morning even before I open my eyes. How could I not? The scent of Heath’s body is in the air, dark and spiced and perfect. I turn over in the flannel sheets, hugging them to me against the chill in the air. I turn over again and finally open my eyes when I don’t find Heath in the bed with me.

It’s already bright outside, so it stands to reason that he’s been awake for ages given what he told me the morning after our first night together. I sit up and yawn, looking around at the bedroom.

I hadn’t noticed much about it last night, except that it was painfully sparse— the whole house was, if I remember correctly. In the daylight, I can see that it’s also clean. No layers of grime on the floor, no empty take out boxes. It almost has a hotel-like feel to it, except it’s also clearly an old cabin. There are no curtains or blinds on the windows, nothing to obstruct a truly magnificent view of the county’s last autumn leaves exploding like fireworks on rolling hillsides.

The world outside Heath’s house is as still and quiet at the world inside it. And, I suppose, those worlds also feign matching simplicity. Because this hotel-like house? It’s another reminder that Heath doesn’t really live here. Heath doesn’t really live anywhere, I suppose. How could you, when you’re always counting down days to the next deployment?

I hear movement outside the bedroom door and sit up. I don’t have any clothes in here, I realize— I took them all off in the car. I smile a little at the memory, then pull open the doors to the room’s tiny closet. It’s totally empty. Figures. I open a duffle bag by the bed and find Heath’s clothes inside; I remove a dress shirt so big it comes down to my knees, then put it on, not-so-secretly thinking how Heath might like to take it back off again.

There’s no mirror to check myself over in, so I have to hope for the best as I turn the knob and exit the bedroom. I pad down the hallway— the noise is coming from the kitchen. I smile again, thinking about Heath and I on the table, and then swing round the corner—

“Good morning— oh my god!” I shriek, because it’s not Heath shuffling around in the kitchen— it’s another man.

“Good morning indeed,” the man says, laughing at my expense. I leap back into the hallway, eyes wide, face quickly turning crimson.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone— I thought you were Heath,” I stammer. “I didn’t know he had a roommate.”

There’s another laugh, and I dare to peer around the corner of the hall to see what’s going on. The man isn’t looking at me— he’s staring down at the frying pan of eggs he’s cooking. An unlit cigarette hangs from his mouth, and he’s shirtless. While he’s muscular and chiseled the same way Heath is, he’s also clearly a bit older; he has the tanned, lined look of someone who has spent far too long in the sun.

“I don’t know that he’d call me a roommate,” the man says, still without looking up. “He’s just run out to the car. He’ll be back.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“No problem.”

“I’m Karli,” I offer.

He laughs again, and this time there’s a real mockery in it that stings. “Oh, I know. I heard him yelling it last night.”

I didn’t think it possible I could get any redder, but here we are. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stave off total humiliation, but it doesn’t work. Was this guy here the entire time? When Heath had me walk in completely naked, did he know someone else might see it? Did he want me to be seen? Ugh, maybe he wanted me to be embarrassed, maybe he’s into that and I just had no idea—

I hear the front door open, and a kiss of cold air hits me even in the hallway. I can tell it’s Heath returning by the sound of his footsteps. I press hard against the wooden wall, hurrying to figure out what I’m going to say to him, what I’m going to shout. But then he’s turning the corner, and practically crashing into me before I can even think of a decent opening line.

Heath looks down and realizes I’m wearing his shirt and nothing else; he smiles and tilts his head to the side, then reaches down and takes hold of the hem—

I slap his hand away.

Heath’s face contorts, first in anger, then in something akin to concern— not hurt, just concerned.

“You have a roommate? Who was here last night?” I whisper dangerously.

Heath’s eyebrows lift and he laughs loud enough that I know the guy in the kitchen heard. “Don’t worry about it,” he says.

“I am worried about it!” I snap, my whisper inching up the tiniest bit. “You should have told me! I don’t know what you’re into, but I didn’t say it was okay for some stranger to hear me or see me or—“

“Whoa, whoa,” Heath says, shaking his head. He hands me a small bundle of something in his left hand, and I realize it’s my clothing. “Calm down.”

“That is the absolute worst thing you can say to someone when they’re freaking out,” I growl, and snatch my clothing from his hands. I storm back to the bedroom to put them on. He doesn’t follow me, and when I finally emerge, sound and conversation tells me he’s sitting at the kitchen table— yes, that kitchen table— with the stranger.

I know I’ve got no choice but to face him and the breakfast-making-guy. It’s not like I could get out the door and get home if I didn’t. I fold my arms over my chest and walk out, eyes narrowed at the both of them.

It’s only when I see them side by side that I notice something— that they have the same color eyes. The same sharp angle of a chin, the same shield-shaped chest (though Heath’s is a little prouder and more upright).

“Karli,” Heath says, “Come on. Sit down. Besides, you ought to actually meet my father.”

I blink.

I blink again.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, not entirely meaning it to be said out loud. But there it is, my words floating in the air, and rather than apologizing or explaining, both Heath and the guy— Heath’s father— crack up.

I can feel myself reddening even further, something I didn’t even know was possible. To say that I’m furious would be the understatement of the century. I’m practically shaking— he brought me here, paraded me naked potentially in view of his father, didn’t tell me to keep my voice down, and is now acting like this is all some big joke?

“Fuck you, Heath,” I snap. “Where’s my purse? I’m calling Bella to come get me.”

This pulls Heath out of the humor, though it does little for his father. “Hang on,” he says hurriedly. “It’s just— people always think we’re roommates. That’s what we were laughing at, that people never know. Not at you.”

“You seriously think that’s the thing I’m mad about?” I fume. “This is humiliating! And if you’re into humiliating girls, fine, but get on the internet to find people for that then because I am not interested.”

“No, he wasn’t here,” Heath says, rising and coming toward me, waving his hands in front of his chest. “Seriously. Tell her, Vic.”

I’m a little surprised to hear Heath call his father by name, but surprise is a minor emotion compared to the storm in my chest right now.

“Yeah, yeah, I wasn’t. And look, baby, I didn’t hear him calling your name last night. He told me this morning.”

Heath groans and spins around. “Seriously, man? You told her you heard us?”

“I was just messing with you,” Vic says, still looking pretty amused by this entire thing.

“That’s fucked up,” Heath says, rolling his eyes at his dad. Vic gets up, still chuckling a little, and goes over to the fridge. He emerges with three cans of PBR, which he sets out on the table.

“Come on. Relax, both of you. Have a drink with me.”

“It’s not even noon,” I say coldly. “And I’m not in the mood.”

“Of course I figured you and Heath were bumping uglies. Beautiful girl comes out of his room wearing his clothes?”

I close my eyes and actually will myself to stop living at the term “bumping uglies”. I open my eyes. I guess I’m still alive.

“I want to go home,” I say to Heath, voice hard. “You can take me now, or I can call Bella. But I’m leaving.”

“I’ll take you,” Heath says quickly. “Come on.”

“Pleasure to meet you!” Vic calls out over his shoulder and weirdly enough, it actually sounds genuine— like this was a totally normal and totally acceptable way to meet someone. I smile back at him acidly and hurry to Heath’s SUV. I get in and curl myself away from the driver’s side, going so far as to basically press myself into the window when Heath joins me. He starts the engine in silence.

We’re halfway down his long driveway— in reverse, and at speed— when he says, “Look, me and my dad aren’t like most people and their dads. It’s not that big a deal that he knows we had sex.”

“Him knowing we have sex isn’t the problem,” I say through semi-gritted teeth. “You didn’t tell me he might be home. You didn’t mention anyone else was living there. You let me walk out and meet him looking like the worst kind of walk of shame. And then you both just laughed at me.”

“I shouldn’t have laughed,” Heath says after a moment, saying it like he both means it and just realized how his laughter might be a serious problem. “I thought you’d chill out when you realized how things work with me and him.”

“I don’t really care how things work. It was awful,” I say, grinding my jaw to keep from crying. The blinding anger I’d felt five minutes before manifesting itself as tears. I just need to get out of the car before they become legit and uncontrollable— which experience has told me is the inevitable conclusion.

“Listen,” Heath says, voice growing a little softer. “Honestly, I just didn’t think to mention him to you. I was sort of preoccupied last night with wanting you. And besides, I never even know if he’s coming home at night. Half the time he sleeps it off at a buddy’s house.”

I shrug, unable to speak without my voice quivering.

Heath continues, “My dad and I are basically service buddies, okay? We’re not like a play-catch-in-the-yard-father-and-son. Like, for my sixteenth birthday he took me to a party on base and convinced me to drink sixteen beers.”

I scoff. “You can’t be serious,” I say, the insanity of his words overpowering my need to cry.

“Very serious. My mom died when I was born, and my dad was just always better at having buddies than having a son, I guess. Hell, the way I rebelled was joining the Navy instead of the Army, which is the branch he’s in— the military is just our whole lives. Anyway, my point is just…he was just being an ass.”

“Him just being an ass doesn’t make it any better,” I say, shaking my head.

“It was an accident, Karli,” Heath says, now sounding frustrated.

“Yeah. I know,” I answer, but the truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about Heath, not really, but I happily walked into a strange house, naked, with a guy I barely know, prepared to do whatever he asked of me. I don’t know his middle name or favorite color or even where he’s lived. All I know is that I want him.

Which isn’t enough. Or rather, is enough for my body, but isn’t enough for my heart or my mind or my life. It’s not like I’m going to get the chance to know him, either, since he’s leaving in what, eleven days, now?

We remain silent as we turn onto the main road and start toward my apartment. My mind is a swamp of emotion and worry and hurt and lingering embarrassment; the look on Vic’s face when I waked out, that face so similar to Heath’s, is burned into my mind. We ease through the always-broken gates to my apartment complex and up to the sidewalk of my building.

“I won’t forget to text you back this time,” Heath says, looking over at me. “Because I want to see you tonight.”

“Heath—“

“I’ll pick you up,” he says, with that calm confidence, a voice that no woman could possibly say no to—

Except me. Because I have to.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I say, voice wobbly. “I just don’t think this is going to work out.”

Heath looks like he doesn’t believe me, like he expects me to laugh and explain the joke. When I don’t, he finally says, “Wait, Karli— come on. My dad was a dick and you’re done?”

“No— well, yes, but that’s not really the thing. I just…you’re leaving in eleven days. I barely know you, and you don’t seem all that interested in telling me more about yourself. You just want a fuck buddy for the rest of your leave.”

“That is not true,” Heath says. There’s a flare in his voice, anger and concern.

“I had a nice two nights with you,” I say. “But we’re done, okay?”

“Karli!” he shouts, almost orders, and I almost point out that I’m not some military recruit he can command. Instead, I swallow, slam the car door, and sprint upstairs to my door, hurrying to lock it behind me.

I expect him to chase after me. Heath isn’t the kind of guy that gets told no a lot, after all, nor does he seem like the kind of guy who would just let a girl accuse him of wanting a fuck buddy and leave. That’s why I said it, in fact— I wanted to see if he’d let that stand. I wanted to prove that I knew at least some small thing about him.

But he doesn’t follow me. He just drives away. Proving that really, I know nothing at all about Heath Farrow.