His finger came to my lips. "Shh, just stop. I already gave you my word. Nothing is going to change." His eyes were warm. "See you in the kitchen. You have a preference of pancakes or waffles?"

I smiled, “waffles,” and walked toward the bathroom.

After freshening up, I padded down the hall toward the sounds and smells of what I hoped wasn't the last meal I'd share with Dylan. I watched the muscles in his back flex as he worked his way around the kitchen. I propped myself onto a stool across the raised bar from where he was preparing breakfast.

"So, are you ready for the best waffles in the world?" He turned toward me, spatula in one hand, and plate in the other.

"Yeah. I'm famished." I took a bite at the waffles he placed in front of me, a soft moan curling in my throat. "Oh, God, this is heavenly." My eyes rolled in my head and I sighed in contentment. "Aren't you going to eat?" I asked around another mouthful.

He didn't move, just watched on as I stuffed my face. "Nah, I'm not hungry."

"Side effect?" I questioned, stuffing more buttery waffle into my mouth.

"Yeah, something like that," he responded coolly. "Why don't you tell me about you?" He turned back to the stove and started to clean up his mess.

"Uh, well." I paused. "It's a long story. I'd prefer it if you looked at me. I need to gauge your reaction and I can't do that if you have your back to me," I replied. "You do have a nice backside though."

His bark of laughter filled the room before I noticed his shoulders shake. "All right, sugar. Finish your breakfast. I'll clean this up and then we can talk."

I looked down at my syrup-filled plate. "Mmm-kay." And I proceeded to devour my waffles.

I mulled over how to tell Dylan my deepest, darkest secret. I couldn’t find any way to sugar-coat it. "So, I'm a recovering drug addict." I figured I would just come out and say it. His motions paused, but quickly resumed.

"You told me that last night, sugar. How about you tell me when and how it happened in the first place."

I gripped my plate and hopped off the stool. I headed toward the sink when Dylan turned and stopped me. "Let me take that." He grabbed my dishes and proceeded to wash up in the sink. He wasn't looking at me, instead focusing on his task.

"Okay, well…" I leaned against the countertop, my arms taking their own protective stance across my chest. "I was sixteen the first time I started partying. And I tried a few pills with some friends I used to hang with. It seemed harmless, a way to feel good, or not feel at all." I shuffled my foot against the tile floor.

"I don't know when it got out of hand. Just that one day I woke up in a place I didn't recognize with a needle next to me." I couldn't look up, but I felt his stare on me, the water was still on but his hands were instead resting on the side of the sink rather than washing dishes. "I had been on a binge for about three days." My voice became quiet. "Jude found me. I was dirty, strung out, and trying to find any way to get my next fix."

Dylan turned off the water and turned toward me, drying his hands on a towel. "C'mon, sugar. Let's finish this conversation somewhere a little more comfortable." He grabbed my hand, grazing my breast innocently. It sent a jolt of desire through me, but I snuffed it out. It wasn't the time to be thinking about sex.

I looked up, taking in the man before me. "Okay, can we go back to bed? I might have an easier time explaining if you're naked and can't get away."

He cupped my cheek with his free hand. "Sugar, I don't know what…come on. Let's go to bed."

I smiled in triumph. "Thank you."

Dylan led me back to his bedroom, stopping only to kiss me once before stepping out of his jeans and climbing into bed. He patted the blue linen next to him. "In you go, darlin'."

I took off my shirt, but left my panties on. Crawling up the bed, I plopped down next to him. As if we'd been sleeping together for ages, he instinctively wrapped me in his arms and squeezed me to his chest. I felt his breath in my hair before he whispered, "You smell like maple syrup." He inhaled again, “and raspberries.”

I smiled and nuzzled closer to his body, the heat of his chest against my back a soothing balm for my numbed state.

"Now, where were we, sugar?" He kissed the back of my ear. "Tell me all of it. Don't leave anything out."

I cleared my throat, prepared to share all the revolting details of my past. "So, Jude found me after I had been on a binge for about three days. He took me to a hotel and spent the next week helping me detox. I fought him the entire time. I didn't have a problem, or so I thought." I took a breath. "He held my hair, kept me bathed and fed. He never left my side." My voice cracked. "I guess somewhere along the way, he developed feelings for me, and I him. He was my savior.

"What makes it worse, or better, depending on how you look at it, it became our little secret." I shifted uncomfortably. "No one in my family knew, and Jude protected that. He never told a soul." Dylan's breathing accelerated, as if he were bracing for some apocalyptic revelation.

"I understand a little better now why he gave me the look of death in the shop that day. He feels protective over you." It wasn't a question, but I felt I needed to clarify our relationship a little more.

"Yeah, I guess that's part of it. But mostly, I think he felt obligated to care for me. He knew I wouldn't go to my brothers, and he also knew what would happen if in the event I took things too far." I felt my cheeks warm, tears threatened to emerge as I remembered Jude and everything we had been through together.