“Life is all about rules. Even games have rules.”

I nodded. This was no game—far from it. I opened my mouth and almost, almost asked him if I could go home with him tonight. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted to feel him lying beside me, listen to the peaceful sound of his breathing in sleep. It had been too long. Way too long.

But I was too afraid he’d say no, so I silently hoped he’d offer it to me instead.

“Sleep well,” he said in a soft voice.

I closed my eyes, feeling something drop inside me. Things were not the same and wouldn’t be the same for a long time, if ever. There was something missing or guarded in his voice and the way he looked at me. And in that instant I knew exactly what it was—trust.

He no longer trusted me. And no, I didn’t fully trust him either.

“You, too,” I said.

He walked me to Heath’s Jeep and opened the door for me. Previously he would have insisted on being the one to drive me home, even if he knew that Heath was going that way anyway. But not tonight.

Chapter Four

Adam

After yet another long and sleepless night, I found myself driving almost on autopilot back to Orange. I could probably make the trip with my eyes closed by now. I’d hardly ever driven this route before I started seeing Emilia.

It was early in the morning on New Year’s Eve and the traffic was lighter than normal. People probably only had half days at work—like those still working at Draco—and were planning to cap their holiday celebrations with bright and hopeful expectations of the New Year.

I wondered what that must feel like. Because anyway I looked at it, this New Year ahead of us did not look very cheerful. Emilia and I were speaking again, at least. But our shaky relationship was about to get hit—very, very hard—by some dark shit. For us, tonight, there wasn’t much to celebrate.

I stopped by a nearby specialty bakery to pick up a few things for breakfast and then went to get her at Heath’s.

She opened the door. Her strange rainbow-colored hair was pulled back into a ponytail and through the back of a dark blue baseball cap with the Draco company logo on it. She wore baggy jeans and a denim jacket. Her pale face split into a wan smile when she opened the door.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey. I thought we could go eat breakfast at the park. And maybe talk?”

She visibly paled at the mention of breakfast—even her perfect pink lips were almost white. She looked like she was about to puke on my shoes. But her smile didn’t falter and she nodded gently.

Walking back to the car, she slipped her cold hand into mine. I closed my fingers around hers, almost without thinking about it. I should have been pissed at her. Part of me still was—and was demanding I remain pissed at her. But most of me could see her for what she was: lost, alone, as terrified as I was, and the woman I loved more than anything in the world.

We drove to a nearby park that had hills and big trees and nature hiking trails—a line of pines almost a mile long and a semi private place for us to sit at an empty picnic table. She sat across from me, keeping her face down as I set down the tray of coffee and pastries.

She glanced at the box. “I hope you aren’t offended if I don’t eat anything.”

“I won’t be offended but I do think you should eat something. You need to keep your strength up.”

Her brow arched. “I can do that this afternoon, when my strength doesn’t come up with my breakfast.”

I grimaced, grabbing one of the cups. “Well, at least have some coffee.”

She looked at the coffee cup and then away. “I shouldn’t.”

I froze, my cup halfway to my mouth. I knew what she was implying with those two words and they infuriated and scared the shit out of me at the same time. I plunked down my cup, but I didn’t say anything.

She watched me, unsurprised by my reaction. I was probably as pale as she was now.

“So you’ve made a decision,” I said flatly, my voice as dead as the rest of me felt at that moment.

She looked away, rocking in her seat. Two joggers bounced past us, a little too close. I glared at them. She cleared her throat into her fist and took a deep breath.

“I know I said it’s my body and my decision. And it is, but…I’m not going to shut you out.”

I laced my fingers together on the table in front of me, studying them instead of looking at her. “And so what does that mean?”

She turned to look at me, but even with the weight of her eyes on me, I didn’t look up. “It means we talk about it. In clear, quiet voices. We do what we haven’t been able to do in months—communicate.”