When we get home, Adam disappears into his room to find his camera. He starts throwing stuff around and Chuckles darts out his door a minute later, fur standing on end, and scuttles under my bed. I follow him into my room and kick the door so it’s almost shut. I need some privacy.

I need to think.

This morning I panicked. I could tell Adam had one foot out the door, and I knew he wouldn’t stay if I told him the truth.

That there is no way in hell I will be able to give him up after the Olympics. I shouldn’t have said it, but I did. It was the only way I could think of to keep him with me, and for a few hours I actually believed it myself. I believed it hard on the way to the eye doctor, and even during the appointment, when Dr. Denham told Adam he did a great job taking care of me and then looked a little scared when Adam growled at him about the pain killers being useless.

It’s not like Adam to get quite that salty, but I probably wouldn’t be all sweetness and light to someone who caused him pain either, so whatever.

I was pretty sure it would all be okay during brunch, even when he disappeared into the back to ask the waitress to make me my favorite mint chocolate milk shake after he noticed it was no longer on the menu. But I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was fooling myself when we hit the snow sculptures.

Being there with him, wandering around and holding hands in the fresh air and winter sunshine and watching Adam take pictures and come alive, was the nail in my coffin of delusion. Because there he was, the way he used to be, with the same quick movements and excitement in his eyes. Adam in full color again: lit up with a purpose and a passion.

Irresistible.

Mine.

The whole time I was in line for coffee I was playing with my phone, writing and deleting emails to my new boss, trying to craft the perfect it’s not you, it’s me and my need to devour my temporary boyfriend on a more permanent basis message. Then I remembered how hard I worked—for years—to get this internship. How it’s the key to getting in to grad school. I deleted all the drafts. I bought our coffees and told myself that a month with Adam was worth any price. We strolled around for most of the afternoon and it was absolutely perfect. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Goddamn it.

Now he’s sitting across from me at the brewery, candles flickering on the table between us, holding my hand and staring deep into my eyes. It’s romantic. It’s perfect.

It’s horrible.

Because every time he rubs his thumb across my knuckles or brings my hand to his mouth so he can drop a kiss on the inside of my wrist I fall even deeper in love with him. And I can’t say a word. One single syllable about how my feelings are getting stronger by the second will drive him straight out the door.

Live in the moment. Enjoy the time you have. You’ve only got a few diems, so carpe the fuck out of them.

“You okay?” He’s still got his beanie on—hello, ski town—and his black hair curls out underneath. His cheeks are bronzed from the sun we got today, and the candlelight is making little flecks of gold dance in his dark eyes. He’s beautiful, and for the next month at least, he’s mine.

“I’m fine.” I push out a smile, and it starts out fake but turns real soon enough. All it takes is one corner of his mouth tipping up in response and I’m beaming at him like a loon.

“This place is where we met for the first time,” he says, looking around. “You and your parents were sitting in a booth right over there, and Ben and I walked in, still in our gear.”

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

His mouth tightens, just for a second, and I want to kick myself for bringing up his ability to remember. I open my mouth to apologize but he’s speaking before I can get any words out.

“I remember everything about you, Piper.”

“Me too,” I whisper. “Meeting you that night was the first time I was actually happy that my parents made me move up here.”

“Seriously?”

I grin. “You were cute.”

I’d been thirteen and furious at the world, first because my parents made me leave my friends and my school in Denver to move to a tiny mountain town, and then because my mom got sick right after we got here, so I couldn’t even tell them how pissed I was. I had to swallow it down and be strong for my mom instead. So I played along, but I hated Breckenridge at first.

Then Ben brought Adam to dinner and I realized that living in a ski town had its advantages.

My crush on Adam started that day, but we didn’t become friends for a few more years. It was when my mom’s cancer came back that we got close. Ben was away a lot, but Adam had a broken foot for most of that season, so he was around. His own parents moved east that year, so he stayed with us for a couple months while his bone healed up.

He watched movies with me when I couldn’t sleep at night and ran errands for my mom while I was at school. Nothing romantic happened between us, but by the time he got his cast off we were friends.

“I know I was cute,” he says. “I meant, seriously you didn’t want to move here?”

“I hated it at first. I lost all my friends and our school in Denver had tons of subjects that I couldn’t take up here. I was really into dance, did you know that?”

He shoots me a smile so dirty that everything below my belly button melts and I swear I have a mini-orgasm at the table. That’s never happened to me in a restaurant. Food orgasms? Yes. Actual tingles in my pants? No way.

“I’m a big fan of your dancing,” he says, and all I can think about is his hands on his hips and those lips brushing against my ear. Show me what you’ve got, Easton.

I shiver and gulp down some water.

“Thanks, but I wasn’t talking about private shows in my living room. I meant ballet.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the pictures of you in those tutus when you were little. Fucking adorable.”

“I did it for a long time after that. My dance school in Denver was really good, but my parents told me Ben had a chance to be world class at snowboarding and they wanted to support him.”

“You never said anything.”

I shrug. “No point. I loved my brother and snowboarding came first.”

A lesson I’ve learned over and over. Maybe a little too well.

His eyes skip away and he drops my hand, shifting around in his chair. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” he says, staring down at the table. “About Japan. And about that summer.”

He raises his eyes and now it’s my turn to look away. I take a sip of beer that turns into me sculling the entire glass because I don’t want to put it down. I’m not sure I’m ready for this. When I finally finish, he’s staring at me, biting his lip and drumming his fingers on the table. I try to smile, but this time I can’t quite manage it. Not even a fake one.

“I should have put you first, Piper. I’ve regretted it since you hung up on me and I wish I’d skipped that competition. I wish I’d never set foot in Japan. You have no idea how much. I used to dream about it all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’d dream about waking up with you, in a big bed with white sheets. We were in a hotel in Paris with one of those iron balconies, and I’d wake up before you, every time, and watch you sleeping, waiting for you to open your eyes and smile at me.”

I glance down at the candle and my eyes fill with tears, making everything sparkle.

“I would have loved that so much,” I say. “But it wasn’t all your fault. I shouldn’t have made you choose. I’m sorry.”

He searches my face for a moment, like he’s waiting for more, and I have to remind myself to breathe. Fuck. Why is this so hard for me to say?

Because you failed. And you’re terrified that it’s going to happen again.

“And I’m sorry about not giving you a chance to explain when you got back,” I finally choke out. “I owed you more than silence.”

I should probably say more, but Adam seems satisfied because he grabs my hand and holds on tight. We stare at each other for a minute, lost in the past, until the waiter clears his throat.

“Another beer?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” I say, still holding Adam’s gaze. Another beer is definitely going to be necessary if I want to get through this conversation.

“I have a question,” I say.

“About Japan?”

I shake my head. “About that summer. I know you apologized, and I appreciate it, but I still don’t understand why you didn’t let me help you, even if you had to go.”

He presses his lips together. “I didn’t want to be your patient, Piper. I wanted to be the guy who took care of you, who made you laugh…” He flashes me a smile that’s pure sex. “Who made you scream.”

“I wanted that too.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t give it to you then.”

He stops talking and the silence fills up with what he can’t—or won’t—say. That he still can’t be that guy, not in Colorado. Not for me. Not unless I can figure out a way to make it happen.

“Did I push you too hard?” My voice is tiny, so low and soft that he has to lean forward to hear me. The hair peeking out from under his beanie dips dangerously close to the candle and I move it out of the way.

“What do you mean?”

I pause, not sure I really want to know the answer to the question that’s been haunting me. Then I push ahead, feeling even more vulnerable than I did last night when I was blind and naked and spread out on the bed in front of him. Because what I’m asking for now is a glimpse of myself through Adam’s eyes, and he has always been able to see into the heart of me.

“Was it my fault you left? Did I try too hard to fix you and not hard enough to love you?”

I hold my breath as I wait for his answer. Luckily, he doesn’t have to think about it for long.

“No,” he says. “Oh, Piper. No.”

He comes around the table and slides onto the bench on my side of the booth, pulling me into his arms.

“You couldn’t have done anything to get me to stay. Not unless you could stop winter, and that would be a tough one, even for you.”

“Are you sure?”

He kisses the top of my head. “Of course. I was a mess, Pipes, and I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I knew you cared about me, but I also knew you deserved more. You still do.”

He holds me close for a few more minutes, then slowly lets me go.

“You still okay with all this?”

I clear my throat. “With what?”

He gestures between us. “You and me. The Olympics.”

I grit my teeth and reach under the table to pinch my thigh. The pain helps me focus enough to swallow down the sobs fighting to get out.

“Absolutely,” I say. I grab my glass and hold it up in a toast. “To us.”

He clinks his beer against mine. “To us.” My chest hurts, like a giant fist just punched through my breastbone and is slowly squeezing my heart. The waiter brings our food and drinks, but I don’t thank him. I barely even notice. My mind is gone—brain whirring and spinning in circles as I try to come up with a plan to fix this. There has to be a way. Something I haven’t thought of yet. Because this is Adam—my Adam—finally sitting in front of me after all these years, offering me everything I ever wanted.

He excuses himself, and I fight the urge to pull a pen and paper out of my bag and start making lists. Maybe I could defer for a year and give him some more time to heal.

Shit. That prickle of fear is back, teasing and toying with me. Am I really considering this? Changing everything in my life for a guy?

Not just any guy. Adam.

But not even Adam can protect me from himself, and I swore a long time ago not to depend on anyone else. Parents get sick or drop out emotionally when they’re going through their own shit. Brothers leave, and boyfriends get on planes to Japan. The only person I can absolutely count on is me.

But damn, sometimes I get tired and lonely. Sometimes all I want is to let someone else hold me up for a while, and it seems like Adam wants to do that. He came through last night and I know he loves me. Maybe he’ll keep coming through. Maybe this time he’ll stay.

I glance up and see him coming back, cutting through the clumps of tables, his stride quick and sure. He sees me watching him and smiles, that private smile just for me. A twist of his lush lips and a glint in his eye that’s full of naughty promises.

All my plans fly out of my head and I let them go. I’ve got time, after all. Acres of time. I’ll think of something, and in the meantime, I’ll make sure he can’t see exactly how hard I’m falling.

He slides in across from me and all of a sudden, it’s easy. We laugh and tease each other and reminisce. We’re careful at first, both of us afraid of poking unhealed wounds, but soon enough he’s got me roaring. There are so many things only the two of us remember—secrets and experiences nobody else will ever understand.

It’s perfect, and when we finally walk out into the snowy night, I take his hand with no hesitation and start pulling him toward home.