“We don’t need to talk,” I say immediately.

“You don’t need to talk. You just need to listen.”

“Joy.” I sigh, trying to think of a way to get out of this.

“When I get home, we’ll talk.”

“I can’t wait,” I say sarcastically and yell, “Ow!” when he smacks my ass hard. “Your mom’s here,” I remind him when he gets the look in his eyes that tells me I’m about to get bent over.

“Keep up the smart mouth and I’ll fill it with something that will keep you quiet,” he whispers in my ear, causing goose bumps to break out over my skin.

“I thought you needed to go into the office,” I breathe, closing my eyes.

The image of me on my knees in front of him flashes behind my closed lids. Every time I have tried to take him in my mouth, he’s stopped me, saying that he needed to be inside me badly.

My hands slide around his waist and my head goes to his chest, where I listen to the rhythm of his heart. “I’ll see you when you get home.” I squeeze his waist and feel his lips at the top of my head.

“See you when I get home,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” I reply, and he kisses me once more before jogging up the stairs.

“You got it bad,” Nancy says, making me jump.

I turn around and look at her. Standing in the doorway, she looks me over before looking up the stairs at where Kenton just disappeared.

“I would send you up to get dressed, but he’s up there now, and if you go up there with him, I have a feeling neither of you will be back down for a while.”

I feel my face heat up and I look at the ground.

“Come have some coffee.” She laughs, turning and heading back into the kitchen.

I follow behind, wondering if she gets off on making me squirm.

Once we’ve had coffee and Kenton comes back downstairs to kiss me goodbye, he tells me that I can message him any time and he’ll send someone to rescue me. I would normally laugh about that, but I have a feeling that he’s being completely serious.

The minute the door closes behind him, Nancy pushes me up the stairs to get dressed. She lets me know what we’re going to be doing, not that she gives me a choice in any of it. I have a feeling that the only way I could disagree is if I pop out a kid or start planning a wedding, and neither of those things is going to happen for a while, so I’m stuck picking out appliances—or at least agreeing with what she picks out.

*

I sigh as I sit down in the booth across from Nancy. I think we’ve gone to every home improvement store in the state. If I never look at another oven or fridge again, it will be too soon. I feel my phone vibrate in my bag, so I pull it out and slide my finger across the screen when I see that Kenton is calling.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Hey, babe. I just wanted to call you really quick and let you know I’m gonna be late.”

I feel a frown touch my lips at his words and the anxiety in his voice. “Is everything okay?” I ask softly.

“Sophie’s place was broken into when she was home. I’m with Nico and the cops now.”

“Oh my God, is she okay?”

“She’s fine. A little shook up, but she’s all right.”

“Who broke in?” I ask in shock.

Nancy grabs my free hand, giving it a squeeze.

“We’re not sure, baby. As soon as Nico gets Sophie home, I should be on my way.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you then.”

“Later, baby.”

“Later,” I say softly.

My mind goes to Sophie and Nico. I haven’t met Sophie yet, but I have met Nico. He looks scary but is very sweet. The two times we’ve talked, he told me all about Sophie, and I can tell just by the tone of his voice when he speaks about her that he is in love. I can only imagine how worried he is right now.

“Kenton said Sophie’s was broken into,” I tell Nancy, setting the phone down on the table.

“Oh my,” she mumbles. “I’m going to call Susan.” She picks up her phone.

I watch as she makes the call, and I know that, by the time the phone is hung up, the Maysons will be on a mission. I’m just not sure if it’s going to be what Nico wants. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d want everyone over after something like that.

“Susan’s going to call Nico’s dad and tell him what’s going on. He’s a cop and may be able to get some stuff sorted before my son or nephew end up in jail.”

I feel my eyes get big. “Why would he go to jail?”

“Honey, Kenton works with cops but isn’t a cop.” She shakes her head, grabbing my hand again. “He can still be arrested if he does something the police find to be criminal.”

“Holy shit.” I stand, grabbing my bag, ready to go save Kenton before he gets into trouble.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She grabs my hand and tugs me back down into the booth next to her. “Let me tell you something. Kenton will always do whatever he wants. There is nothing his father or I—or now you—can say to change his mind.”

“I don’t want him to get into trouble,” I breathe in distress.

“I don’t really believe he will get into trouble, but a mom’s job is never done. I will always protect my family.”

Her words bring tears to my eyes. She’s a great mom who loves her kids. Even with as old as Kenton and Toni are, they are still able to lean on her when they need something.

“You’re family now too, honey,” she says quietly, “and I will protect you as I would protect my own children. That includes looking out for my son so he can continue to look out for you.”

I feel a tear falls down my cheek.

Her hand comes up, holding my face, her thumb wiping the tear away. “Now, what do you say we have some cake?”

“Sure.” I nod, swallowing against the lump in my throat.

We sit there in silence while we each eat a large piece of chocolate cake that is so dense that it’s more like fudge. I have a large glass of milk with mine, and Nancy has a glass of wine. When we’re done, we pay the tab before climbing into Nancy’s Jeep.

I don’t know why she doesn’t say anything, but I know why I can’t. My emotions are too exposed; too much has happened today and I need some time to regroup. It isn’t until Kenton sends a text telling me that he’s on his way home that I feel some of the tension in my belly dissipate. Right then, I know that I’m no longer in like with him; I’m head-over-heels in love with him.

I wake up on a scream when I feel myself being shaken. My throat feels like it’s on fire and my skin feels damp with sweat. I look around in the darkness, holding my chest, trying to remember where I am, when the light is switched on and I see that Kenton is looking at me worriedly. I lower my head, covering my face with my hands, taking a few deep breaths as I try to get my heart rate back to normal.

“You were screaming like someone was killing you,” he whispers, sliding in behind me.

I feel my stomach drop and my insides twist with anxiety. I haven’t had a nightmare in years. When I first left home, I would get them often, but somehow, they stopped. I forgot what it feels like to wake up scared, so scared that I want to turn on every light then hide under the covers.

“Sorry I woke you,” I whisper, trying to pull away from his touch, humiliated that I woke him, that he witnessed that.

“Jesus, don’t do that. Do not f**king pull away. Not right now. Not when whatever it was you were dreaming about is still clinging to your skin and has seeped into mine.”

The bed moves behind me again and my hands are taken from my face. He pulls me down so I’m on my side, facing him, our faces so close that I can feel each of his breaths.

His arms wrap around me and his thigh slides over my legs so I’m surrounded by him. “Talk to me.”

I try to sort out what to say to him in my head. How can I possibly explain what just happened when I don’t understand it myself? “I don’t know if it’s a dream or a memory,” I say softly after a few minutes. I press my face into his neck and press my body closer to his.

“What happens?”

I take another shuddering breath and shake my head. “I’m in water. It’s not very deep ’cause I’m sitting in it and it only comes up to my waist. I have this doll in my hand that has blond hair, and I’m dunking her underwater, singing a song to her.” I swallow again, and this time, I feel bile at the back of my throat. “I don’t know what happens, but I feel hands on my head pushing me down. I can’t breathe and I try to scream but end up sucking in lungfuls of water.”

I take a breath just to remind myself that I can. My mom was never a good mom; she was abusive but never left a mark. She always made sure there was never any evidence pointing to her being less than perfect. To everyone who knew us, we lived the perfect life. We had the perfect home, the perfect yard, and she was the perfect mother, who had perfect hair, clothes, and makeup. Everything about her was perfect, and she made sure I was perfect—at least what everyone saw of me.

“Do you think that really happened? That she tried to drown me?” I wonder out loud, feeling his body wrap tighter around mine and his muscles tense. We’ve talked some about how it was for me growing up. I try to avoid talking about it as much as possible, even though he asks often. I just don’t like the look that comes across his face when we do discuss it.

“Do you?” he asks gently.

I take another deep breath, tucking my face into his neck, letting his warmth and smell take away the last of the nightmare. “Yes.” I nod, feeling his arms go tighter before he lets me go and gets out of bed, muttering a quiet, “Fuck,” under his breath.

“Oh God,” I whimper, feeling sick. I sit up, holding the sheet to my bare chest, looking around for quick escape. Tears start to sting my nose and I fight them back, knowing that there is no way in hell I will cry in front of him. Not now.

“Fuck!” is roared, and I turn my head just in time to see one of the new bedside lamps fly across the room, hitting the sliding glass door. The lamp bursts into thousands of pieces while the door somehow doesn’t shatter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, pacing back and forth, running a hand through his hair as I try to think of something to do or say to calm him down.

“I’ll leave,” I tell him quietly, fear settling in my gut.

His pacing doesn’t change, and his fists clenching and unclenching tell me everything I need to know about his state of mind. I start to wonder if I do this to people, if I make them want to hurt me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whimper.

His head swings my way, and his eyes look me over, going from hard to soft. “Jesus, baby.” He comes towards me and I hold up my hand, trying to ward him off. His eyes drop to my hand then move back up to my face. “I would never hurt you.”

I know this; I know deep down that he wouldn’t, but I just watched him freak out, and that has put some fear in me.

“Never,” he repeats, and that’s when I notice that my body is shaking so hard that the bed is vibrating. “It was either the lamp or track down your mom and put a bullet in her.”

I feel my eyes widen as he shakes his head.

“I would kill her, baby. Without a second thought, I would end her. I know you don’t understand, but this is me. I protect the people I love. I hate feeling helpless when I know I can fix this. Knowing that someone who has harmed you is out in the world, walking around, does not sit well with me. It goes against everything I am to let her get away with what she did to you.”

“You love me?” I ask, ignoring everything else he just said, my mind zeroing in on that one fact.

His eyebrows rise and he shakes his head. “What do you think we’re doing here?”

I swallow and shrug my shoulders at his familiar words.

“Baby, you need to start looking at what’s going on around you.”

“You never told me.”

“I show you every day,” he says, looking dumbfounded.

“You should have told me you loved me.” I resort to getting angry. Why the hell are guys so damn stupid?

“Love.”

“What?”

“I love you. It’s not past tense. I love you now and will love you until my heart stops beating.”

My belly flips and I shake my head. “I’m in a whole lot of love with you too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t know until today.” I shrug, pulling the sheet up higher on my chest.

“What?”

“I didn’t know.”

“I know you love me,” he says, and I’m sure he did know, because he knows what love feels like.

“I have loved—really loved—only one person, and that was my son.” I look around, trying to think of a way to explain it to him. “My love for him was different. It was one-sided and pure of any other emotions. Then, today, you sent me a text message, and when I read that you would meet me at home, something in me clicked into place. I have never had that—a home or someone to go home to. That’s when I understood what I’m feeling. You’re my home. You’re the person I belong to.”

“Stop,” he growls, and I know that he understands now.

“You’re the glue that holds all of my broken pieces together,” I say quietly.

“Autumn—”

“You love me for me,” I whisper, and I know he’s done when he plows into me, his body knocking mine backwards onto the bed, caging me in.