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“Don’t kill the man!”

She laughed. “Okay. Nash lives.”

“Thank you.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know.” I stared toward the window. “I could do everything right this time and still end up hurt.”

Sydnee nodded. “Yes.”

I frowned. “Damn.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Well, damn.”

“You could.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“No.”

She leaned back. “You could be completely honest. Emotionally available. Faithful. Communicative. You could apply everything you’ve learned in the last two years.”

She paused. “And Nash could still hurt you.”

“That’s depressing.”

“Loving someone requires accepting that you cannot control the outcome.”

“And that’s what scares you. I don’t think you’re afraid of Nash hurting you.”

I frowned. “I just said—”

“I think you’re afraid of what happens to you if he does.”

That put a sock in my mouth. Sydnee watched me for a moment, then she tilted her head.

“Do you remember when you used to call yourself a homewrecker?”

I groaned. “Oh, God.”

“Do you?”

“I mean… yeah.”

She stood and I frowned as she walked toward the file cabinet in the corner.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer.

“Sydnee.”

She opened the second drawer. “What are you looking for?”

She flipped through a few folders then pulled out an envelope. The second I saw it, my stomach dropped.