“But this part…” Cody lifts my hand in his and presses it flat against his chest. “This part wants you because it needs you. It needs you to live and survive. And it scares the shit out of me, Charlie, because I’ve been burned before—and I wasn’t in love then. But I’m more afraid of what might happen if I don’t try. I’d regret it for the rest of my life, and I’m sure of it. So the only mistake I could have made was leaving you alone, letting Trevor take you away—not telling you how I feel. But being with you now? Coming here with you and holding you all night in my arms? Feeling you tremble in the shower in, oh, say about 15 minutes? Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s no way in hell I could ever think any of that was a mistake.”

His eyes are drilling into mine, and his smile is soft and sincere. If there was ever a doubt that I wasn’t supposed to be with Cody—that what I felt wasn’t real—it was completely dashed by the things he just said. I smile at him, biting my bottom lip, trying to look sexy—trying to get back to that moment before I hesitated. My gaze dips down in that second, and I take in the words written within the scrolls on his chest:

Love with everything.

I run my hand lightly over his heart, knowing without even asking that the words are a lesson from his father. Cody notices my gaze and quickly leans in to kiss me softly, his hand once again tender along my face.

“That’s how I love you, you know?” he says, swallowing slowly and meeting my eyes. “With everything.”

My knees are weak, and I’m grateful that he’s kissing me again, his arms holding me up. I wrap one of my legs around him, desperate to feel him against me, and he’s there. He grips my leg and pushes into me against the wall, completely taking me over, and I bite at his shoulder to muffle the tiny cry I let out.

“Are you okay?” he whispers in my ear, and I pull on him, forcing him deeper into me, assuring him, and he responds with a groan. I feel his teeth at my shoulder as he kisses his way up my neck, his hand deep in my hair.

“Cody, I just want to feel you—I need to feel you…closer,” I say, gripping at his hips and guiding him into me.

I cling to him as my hands slide up his back until my fingers are twisted in his hair, and his forehead is pressed to mine—our eyes never shut and never leave one another’s. Our lips graze each other, but we stay locked just like this—afraid to break this bond.

I’m clutching his arms, my fingers digging into his biceps and sliding up and down his back under the warm water. His skin is smooth, but I can also feel every ripple along his body. He’s strong—his muscles hard and tested. I want to look at him—I’m dying to see his chest and abs as they work over every piece of me, but I can’t break away from his eyes. It’s like they’re telling me a story, about how much he loves me, trusts me—I can see him giving himself to me in the deep pools of blue staring back at me.

I watch his face as he releases everything, and I follow close behind, whimpering softly as I do. Cody doesn’t speak, but his eyes grow even more intense, and his body quivers. When we’re both done, we stay there, holding one another and staring into each other’s eyes. It’s a connection like I’ve never felt. I know I was always supposed to find him, my piece that was missing.

By the time we leave the bathroom, Caroline’s vacuuming has stopped. I’m rushed with panic at first, but I soon hear the sound of the leaf blower outside, and I know she’s just moved on to her next obsession.

Cody and I dress in jeans, sweatshirts, and hiking boots. I feel like I should be wearing something nicer, like I should dress for church or something, but I didn’t really bring anything formal, and there’s a slight drizzle outside, making everything muddy and gray. We throw what little we packed into our small bags and carry them out to Cody’s truck. My aunt is refusing to stop her chores—she knows I’m leaving, and this is her way of dealing with it. We don’t say goodbye; never have. Even when I left home for college, I left without any words at all—she was at the store at the time, and I just left a note on the counter reminding her to call me on my cell. I finally get her attention over the sound of the leaf blower, and she stops it, but only for a few seconds.

“So, you’ll be back? For the trial, right?” she asks. This is what she’s thinking about—it’s all she thinks about. The trial. The murder. My dad. I know she doesn’t want to really talk about it, really deal with it—so, I just nod yes and hold my hand up in a wave. She smiles back and returns to her yard work. Caroline has always had this certain detachment from reality. She dropped out of college during her freshman year and has trouble holding a job. She cleans offices for a living, and the irony doesn’t escape me given the chaos she lives in.