The thought startled me. I tried to pull away, but Jonah held on to my arms. His eyes were pleading, as if he knew the second I pulled away, he’d never get to touch me like that again. So I stayed. And we stared.

That’s all that happened.

Nothing was said. Other than the way he was keeping me afloat with his leg wrapped around mine beneath the water, I wouldn’t even say our touch was inappropriate. Had Chris seen it, he wouldn’t have thought a thing about it. Had Jenny seen it, she wouldn’t have even been mad.

But that’s because they didn’t feel what was happening between us. They couldn’t hear everything that wasn’t being said.

A few seconds later, Chris walked back outside and dove into the pool. Jonah unwrapped his leg from around mine, but he didn’t let go of my arms. The ripples from the waves Chris’s dive had left caused the float to rock, but our eyes never unlocked. Not even when Chris sprang up out of the pool next to me and splashed water on us.

Chris wrapped both arms around my waist, pulling me away from the raft. My arms began to slip out of Jonah’s, and I watched Jonah wince when my fingers slid through his and then left him empty.

We were no longer touching. Chris was holding me up, pressing his mouth to mine, and I knew Jonah was watching us kiss.

In that moment, I felt full of guilt. But not because of the moment I had shared with Jonah. Somehow, it felt like Jonah was the one I had betrayed. Which made absolutely no sense.

I climbed out of the pool right after that. A moment later, Jenny had her camera out, asking us to pose for a picture. I remember after the first picture, I glanced up at Jonah. He was looking down at me with an expression that felt like it put a crack in my chest. I didn’t understand it then. Back then, I thought it was just attraction. A teenage boy, hoping to make out with a teenage girl. But right after Jenny took the second picture, Jonah stormed off, into his house.

His actions confused me, and I wanted to ask him about it, but I never did. A few weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.

Then Jonah Sullivan skipped town.

I stare at the picture. The one of Jonah looking down at me. I finally understand that look in his eyes. It wasn’t attraction or contempt.

It’s heartache.

I put the pictures back in the box and replace the lid. I stare at the box, wondering what would have happened if he had never left.

If he had stayed, would we have ended up like Jenny and Chris? I don’t want to think we would have ended up like that. Sneaking around, betraying the people we love the most.

I’ve been so angry at Jonah for leaving, but I get it now. He had to. He knew if he stayed, someone besides him would have ended up getting hurt.

I’ve been avoiding him since his return because my feelings for him were supposed to be dormant. It was supposed to be a teenage crush that fizzled out after I moved on with Chris.

I’ve been lying to myself, doing everything in my power to convince myself that the feelings Jonah stirs up inside me are nothing more than anger.

I’m a terrible liar, though. I always have been.

I knock lightly when I reach his front door. If Elijah is asleep, I don’t want to wake him.

I take a step back, hugging myself. There’s a heavy breeze that swirls around me, but I don’t know if the chills on my arms are caused by the wind or seeing Jonah standing in the open doorway. He’s in a pair of blue jeans and nothing else. His hair is wet and messy. His eyes are drawing me in like they always have. But this time, I don’t force myself to look away.

“Yes,” I say.

He looks at me, perplexed. “Did I ask you a question?”

I nod. “You asked me if I would have left Chris had I not gotten pregnant with Clara. My answer is yes.”

He stares at me, hard, and then it’s as if this invisible wall that’s always been shielding him from me suddenly disappears. He becomes a different person entirely. His features soften, his shoulders relax, his lips part, his chest rises and falls with a smooth release of air.

“Is that the only reason you’re here?”

I shake my head and take one step closer. My heart is pounding so hard right now that I want to turn around and run, but I know the only thing that can ease this ache I feel is Jonah. I want to know what it feels like to be held by him. To be with him. All this time I’ve never even allowed myself to imagine it. Now I want to experience it.

My hands are at my sides now. Jonah barely lifts his finger, hooking it around one of mine. A jolt of electricity spirals its way through my chest, and then a chill rushes down my arm. Jonah’s arms are covered with chills too. They run over his chest and up his neck. I slip my entire hand into his, and he grips it. Squeezes it.

“I might regret this tomorrow,” I warn.

He steps forward, wrapping his free hand around the back of my neck, pulling me close to his mouth. Before he touches my lips, his gaze flickers over my face. “You won’t.”

He pulls me inside and closes the door behind us. He backs me against the living room door, and it feels like I’m swallowing fire when his lips finally touch mine. It’s everything I’ve denied myself from feeling. Our kiss last night felt incredible, but this kiss makes last night’s kiss feel like it was a mere teaser.

Jonah presses his entire body against mine, and it feels like a lifetime of ache is being soothed with each brush of his fingertips against my skin. With each flick of his tongue, each sound that escapes our throats. We end up on the couch, him on top of me, my hands dragging over his back, feeling his muscles tense and roll beneath my fingertips.

It’s like we’re making up for all the years we missed out on this feeling. We kiss like teenagers for ten minutes. Exploring each other, tasting each other, moving against each other.

I eventually have to turn my face away from his, just so I can catch my breath. I feel light headed. He presses his forehead to my cheek and sucks in all the air I’ve just stolen from him.

“Thank you,” he whispers breathlessly. He closes his eyes and brings his mouth to my ear. His breath is warm as it trickles down my neck. “I needed to know I wasn’t crazy. That this feeling hasn’t all been in my head.”

I pull his mouth back to mine. I kiss him gently, and then he drops his head to my neck and sighs. “That day in your pool,” I whisper. “Do you remember?”

Quiet laughter meets my skin. “I’ve been searching for that feeling since the second Chris pulled you away from me.”

I want to say, “Me too,” but it would be a lie. I haven’t searched for that feeling at all. I’ve spent every year of my marriage trying to forget it—attempting to pretend that kind of connection didn’t really exist. Every time I caught myself thinking back on that day, I found things to blame. The heat. The sun. The chlorine in the pool. The alcohol we’d been sneaking from Jonah’s pantry.

Jonah pulls away from me and grabs my hand, easing me onto my feet. He quietly leads me to the bedroom. We’re kissing as he lowers me to the bed, and I love how he takes his time. He doesn’t remove a single piece of my clothing. He just kisses me in every position. Him on top, me on top, both of us on our sides. We make out, and it’s everything I hoped it would feel like.

He leans over me, dragging his lips down my neck. His breath is warm against the base of my throat when he says, “I’m scared.”