It’s so familiar, and so new at the same time. I’m standing at the griddle frying up fresh pancakes, as Colby stands next to me playing with my hair like he used to do when I’d be cooking in my tiny off-campus apartment at college.

We wasted years on assumptions we have no one else to blame but ourselves for. Regardless of my missing what are now very obvious signs of Colby’s interest in me then, I was in no way ready for the man he was becoming. And it’s time to stop punishing him for having had a life in between.

“You know we’re going to have to talk about it,” I say diplomatically. Really, diplomacy’s not my strong suit, so if anything should put Colby on high alert, that should.

I’m not surprised when his hand stills and he asks warily, “Talk about what?”

Turning to face him, I say dramatically, “Everything.” Much more my style. But my lips can’t stop twitching even as I flip the fresh stack of lemon ricotta pancakes onto a plate.

“‘Everything’s’ a lot of ground to cover, princess.” Taking the plate I hold out to him, he stands right next to me while I pour two more circles on the griddle. As the pancakes start to bubble, I glance at Colby. His face is filled with a mix of emotions.

“Colby, we have to talk about the hard stuff. If we don’t, our chance for a reconciliation of any sort is doomed before it has a chance,” I say softly.

“Expert relationship advice from a woman who tried to marry her sisters last night?” he says sarcastically.

“No, expert relationship advice from someone who watched two of her older sisters almost lose their soul mates before all their truths came out.” I flip the pancakes over. “If we’re nothing more than friends, then so be it. That’s the path life chose for us. What I won’t have is doubt causing us ever to question each other.” His full lips part slightly at my words. Pulling back the plate from his hands, I slide the last two on top before walking over to the counter where warmed syrup, blueberries, and raspberries are waiting. Gesturing for him to sit, I continue. “We weren’t saints. We aren’t perfect. We’re two people who refuse to let others win because they lied, and we didn’t. So, we’ll clear the air of the pain so no one will have a chance to come at us blind again.”

“You really want to hear about other women?” he questions as he slides pancakes onto his plate. He reaches for the bowl of berries.

“About as much as you want to hear about other men,” I fire back. “But would you rather hear about them from me or from someone else?” I take the remaining two pancakes before reaching for the syrup.

Colby pauses in the act of dumping half the berries on top of his dish. Quickly, I snag the bowl from his unresisting hands. “Hey! I wasn’t done,” he protests.

I raise my eyebrow. “Use some syrup, buddy. I want some fruit.”

Grumbling, he pours the remainder of the maple syrup on top of his stack of pancakes, drowning them. It’s good to see some things haven’t changed. Colby still prefers to have a little pancake with his syrup whereas I want just enough to keep my pancakes soft until the last bite.

Forking the first bite into his mouth, he moans. “Sweet Jesus. These are fantastic.”

I nod as I take a bite of my own.

Colby’s fork clinks against the plate as he goes for another bite. He shovels it in, chews, swallows, and nabs another before he responds to my question. “You’re right. I’d rather just know we both have a past and leave it where it belongs, but if the other night is any indication…”

I point my fork at him. “Exactly. And there’s really only one I give a shit about anyway because, frankly, she made my life a living hell.”

He sighs. “Addison.” He reaches for his coffee and notices it’s empty. Getting up for a refill, he adds cream and sits back down. Taking a sip, he frowns. “Why does it always taste better when you make it?”

I smirk. “There’s no way in hell I’m answering that.”

His leg brushes mine under the counter. “Maybe I’ll just take yours.” He reaches for my cup, but I slap at his hand. He just laughs.

“Give me your cup, you pathetic man.” I get up and get the jar of salted caramel near the coffeepot. I drizzle in just enough to satisfy Colby’s sweet tooth, then stir rapidly. This is why I prefer to melt it in with the cream before the coffee is poured. I have fewer chances of it clinging to the bottom of the mug. “Here.” I hold the mug in his general direction.

Taking, he quickly takes a sip. “I want a jar of that for the office.”

I snort. “Fat chance.”

“Oh, come on, Corinna. I have to work with Keene all day.” I give Colby a stern look, but inside I’m giggling because the idea of working with Keene sounds completely horrific. “I had to hide the brownies you gave me the other day.”

I tilt my head. “Where did you hide them?”

“In the safe in my office. Why?”

I hate to break his heart. “They won’t be there Monday.”

Colby stills. “Why?” His voice is laced with menace.

“You’re in Keene’s old office, Colby. He practically built the Norwalk office while Ali was pregnant because he didn’t want to be commuting to New York. Unless you changed the code on the safe, I guarantee those brownies are gone,” I say with absolute certainty.

The look on his face is priceless, his muted roar more so. “I am going to use his own weapon to kill him. Ali really isn’t in love with him, is she? Why the hell didn’t someone tell me? This is such bullshit.”

I’m wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes, I’m laughing so hard at his rant.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Silvery-gray eyes bore a hole into mine.

“Oh no. I bake when I want to or if I’m being paid.” A puppy-dog look transforms his face. “Think about it this way, you’re getting this for breakfast, whereas I know Ali is likely out for a run.”

Colby doesn’t even think about it. His “Yeah” is filled with menacing relish and lets me know Keene will be hearing all about this. Which means Ali will. Which means the family will.

I shrug any and all privacy goodbye.

“Can I bring this conversation back around to what we were talking about?” I take a sip of coffee.

Colby nods. “Honesty.”

“Both Caleb and Keene hid things from Cassidy and Ali, Colby. Whatever we are, I’ll have none of that. Especially after this week.” My face falls.

Colby stands abruptly. “Are you finished?” He gestures to my mostly eaten plate.

I nod.

“Let’s take our coffee outside and get some air. I don’t want to bring the past in here.”

Mentally agreeing, because I want Addison Kaplan in my house about as much as I want to contemplate having brain surgery, I leave my coffee on the counter long enough to slide on a pair of Chucks that were discarded in the entry. Colby grabs his coffee and then takes my hand. We make our way to the span of doors lining my living room.

Amazing how different this is from the last time we walked this same path a few days ago. Leaving the inside of my house, we reach the back deck and make ourselves comfortable on loungers overlooking the field of wildflowers.

Just as my anxiety begins to creep in, Colby asks me, “How do we start?” His voice holds the same wary concern I feel coursing through my veins.

I reach for my coffee but instead find my hand captured. Colby squeezes it before he caresses my fingers. “Talk with me, Cori.” My eyes flash up at him, ready to protest the use of my nickname, but the protest falls before I can voice it.

But it also causes a crack in the dam of emotion I’ve been holding back.

“Why her, Colby? Why Addison?” It’s the question that feels so good to get out. Long before she ever slept with Colby, she despised me. I still have no idea why.

“Because she’s the complete opposite of you in every way possible.” His answer is immediate.

That stings deep. “She’s insanely beautiful,” I state coolly as I try to pull my hand away.

“She’s a bitch. And if you think I can’t see that, you’re crazy.” His voice is calm. “Stop trying to pull away.”

“So, because she’s a bitch you slept with her not once but twice? How does that make any sort of sense?” I ask incredulously.

He shakes his head back and forth. “I fucked her both times because I couldn’t have you and she was available. I fucked her to get you out of my mind. The first time, I was trying to protect you from something I now realize, in hindsight, I should have given you a choice on. I assumed you were broken, unable to handle what I wanted from you.”

I nod to acknowledge his statement. “Okay, fine. I don’t know what I would have done in college. But you have no idea…” My voice trails off.

His gray eyes narrow. “We’ll get around to talking about what she did to you after I left later. But the second time? The time she brought up the other night?” I feel the slice in my heart again, but Colby wasn’t mine. He isn’t mine now. I suppress my urge to rage. “I had just written the last letter to you. I had no idea you weren’t receiving them, Cori. I thought you just didn’t give a damn.” Letting my hand go, he slides his hand up to my face and cups my chin. “And I’m not going to lie, I was looking for a way to dull the pain. I found it in a shitload of booze and a woman.”

I feel the loss of his hand when he pulls it away and sits back in his lounger. “I’m not proud of myself to admit both times I used Addison to forget it was your face I craved, your body I wanted, and your heart I needed. It always was. I’m beginning to wonder if it always will be.” His head turns toward me to gauge my reaction.

My breath noticeably hitches. After all these years, it seems there was very little to heal between Colby and me. Every wall I’ve built up over the years to protect myself about the man sitting next to me starts to crumble.

Then he obliterates them.

Standing up from the lounger, he pulls me to my feet and begins to unbutton the wrinkled dress shirt he’s been wearing since last night. I suck in a breath when I catch my first glimpse of boxed abs and let it out when he shrugs it off. I can see where they put his shoulder back together.

My fingers are raised over the puckered scars where the bullets entered his body. “Colby.” The acknowledgment of the pain he’d endured is echoed in my voice.

He grabs my fingers and brings them to his lips. “We’ll talk about that later. That’s not what I want to show you.” He takes my hand and slides it down his muscular arm until it rests on his forearm, giving it a squeeze.

My hand lifts, and I almost stumble back over the lounger. Colby’s other arm comes around me to balance me.

It’s a tattoo of a key ring with everyday keys on it. Two things about it make it extraordinary: the Husky key chain, and the words Never Forget in block text beneath. I immediately recognize the key chain. It’s the one I left on the floor of his room the last night I was there. This ink isn’t new. The ink is faded. It’s got scars running through it.

My chest hurts with the need to release the pain. I keep tracing the tattoo with my fingers. My voice is choked when I ask, “When?”

“About six months after I graduated. It was a reminder to me not to let anyone else fade away the way you did.” His head is lowered, his breath wafting over my face. I tip my head back and am captured by the look in his eyes. He pulls his arm away from my fingers so he can thread his through my hair. “I could never forget you, Cori. No matter where I was or who I was with. You were imprinted in my skin, not to mention my heart and soul.” He brushes his nose against mine.

I stretch up a little bit. “Colby.” His name comes out as a breathless moan.

“I’m sorry, princess. I should have tried harder to make you understand, then and now.” His lips brush against mine as the words he says close up the wounds I’ve been suffering with since I was eighteen. “I can’t and I won’t apologize for the years in between because I just didn’t understand.”

“I won’t either,” I warn him breathlessly as his lips wander aimlessly around my face, the column of my neck.

“Then tell me this,” he says, tightening his grip on my hair.

“What?”

“Why are we talking?” He crushes his lips against mine, and I lose myself in his kiss.

As our lips learn each other’s taste for the right reasons, as our tongues entwine like the bands around my heart do, I lean my weight farther into him and surrender. My mind begins to fade to nothing except his kiss, but I have one last tangible thought.

Time. Do we need time to heal us, or do we just need each other?