Waking up in a soft bed with Tammy beside me, her red hair strewn across the pillow…nothing in my life so far compares to this.

Am I losing my mind?

She is, hands down, the sexiest woman I’ve ever been with, but it’s more than that. I want to curl up and stay here in bed with her all day. I want to cook her breakfast. How can I be feeling this much for someone I hardly even know?

On the other hand, is it right to say I hardly know her? We may not have known each other long, but we have been through some very intense times together. If you count knowledge of a person not in years but in the depth of their shared experience, Tammy and I are practically an old married couple. No one can understand both sides of the Pyrite drama the way the two of us can.

I snuggle down under the covers, wrap my arm around her waist, and pull her back into me. I can feel her breathing change—I’ve woken her up—but she doesn’t startle or resist my embrace. She comes to me willingly.

“Hi,” she whispers under her breath, sounding still half asleep.

“Don’t wake up,” I whisper back into her hair, leaning down gently to kiss her shoulder.

“It’s morning.”

“It’s early.”

“When do you have to—” She cuts herself off with a giant yawn, and it’s so cute that I find myself pressing my face into her shoulder to hide a grin. “When are you heading to the airport?”

“In about an hour, probably.”

“Mm.”

Don’t let go. As soon as you let go of her, as soon as you leave this bed, you have to go back to reality.

I don’t know what I was thinking. Tammy and I have never existed in reality. We’ve only ever been able to exist together off the grid. First, sneaking away from Pyrite and the oppressive rules that governed the sexual conduct of its members. And now, clinging to each other in her apartment, pretending as long as we can that we’re not from different cities, from different worlds. Pretending we’re not both key witnesses in a court case that we hope will convict the man who tried to destroy her life.

That’s more important. It just has to be.

I trace her shoulder blade with my thumb. “You know we shouldn’t have done it,” I say. “Not with the trial about to start.”

“You regret it, then?” The resignation in her voice tells me this isn’t a surprise to her. She knew it was coming, or at least anticipated it.

I sigh. I know what I should say. I should lie. I should make this easy.

“No,” I tell her, my voice raspy over the words. “I don’t regret it. Of course not.”

She turns in my arms and kisses me hard, wrapping her leg over my hip, and I know this is the last time I’ll ever get to hold her like this. This is all just too irresponsible. Too careless. We can’t allow it to happen again, no matter how much we enjoy it. No matter how sexy and funny and amazing this woman is, I have to say goodbye. We can never, ever be real.

She stays in bed when I get up, watching as I search around the apartment for my clothes. It takes me a while. Things were so hectic last night that they ended up all over the place. My shirt is on the bedroom floor, but my pants are in the kitchen, and I have no idea where one of my socks is, so I guess I’m flying home short one sock. That’ll be interesting in the airport security line when I have to take off my shoes to be scanned.

“Will I see you again?” she asks. She’s sitting up, clutching a pillow to her chest, as if for comfort. She’s going to miss me just as much as I will her; I can tell.

“Probably,” I say. “I’ll be at Xavier’s trial, so I guess we’ll see each other there.”

It seems like a horrible consolation prize. I want so much more from us than waving across a crowded courtroom. We have the potential to be so much more than an awkward greeting on the front steps. I don’t know how I’m going to let go of this.

“He’s still messing up my life,” Tammy says. She has tears in her eyes.

“Who?” I ask, longing to go back to the bed and put my arms around her. I restrain myself. We need a clean break. It’s the only way we’ll get through this.

“Xavier,” she says. “Even now, two years later, when I thought I’d gotten away from him, he’s still ruining everything. I’ve been doing so well. I have an apartment. I have a job. I earn my own money and pay my own bills. You know, my therapist says a lot of people who have been part of cults are never able to live normally afterward.”

“I’ve heard,” I say.

“I worked hard to get my life back. I wanted to have all the choices I would have had if Xavier had never come into my world. And that means being able to fall in love if I want. And yet, he’s taken that away from me, too.”

“You can fall in love,” I say softly. “Of course you can fall in love.”

“But I can’t fall in love with you.”

I don’t answer. I can’t. This is too hard.

“What if I already have?” she says.

“Think about the trial, Tammy,” I say. “All these things Xavier has done, to you and to everyone else. It’s time for him to pay. That’s what’s important now.”

“You’re right,” she whispers, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “I know you’re right.”