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I smile, sifting my fingers through his damp, silky hair. “I should ask you the same thing.”

“I never imagined how deep I was going to get with you.” He draws back now, his face sober. Almost apologetic. “Today brought everything home to me. When I saw that gun. When I thought about the fact that if things had been different today, you might have gone alone. You might’ve gotten hurt . . . or worse.”

“I didn’t. I’m okay. Because of you, I’m okay.”

“Ah, God, Avery.” He shakes his head. “I . . . need you.”

“You have me.” I hold his tormented gaze. “Nick, I love you.”

The words seem to wound him more than soothe him. A scowl knits his brow. “I wish we could start over. Both of us do this right.”

“We can. We are starting over, right now.” I loop my arms around his neck, pressing a tender kiss to the edge of his jaw. “I don’t have any more secrets, Nick. You know them all now. No more lies. No barriers between us, not anymore.”

He studies my face, frowning as he strokes my temple. “Baby . . . “

I forge on, determined to reach him. “I want to make a new agreement with you. Let’s start the clock all over again. This time, we both make the rules. We both decide on the terms. No limits. No more hiding who we are or what we need from each other.”

“And what is it that you need?”

There is a hollowness to his voice that makes my heart skip a beat. Have I said too much? Have I fallen into the trap that I’ve been warned to avoid—allowing myself to get too close?

Part of me senses the danger. But another part of me knows that what Nick and I share is unlike anything either of us have had with anyone before. I trust in that knowledge.

I trust him.

“I need you, Nick.” I stare up into his haunted eyes. “Don’t you know? That’s where all of my wants and needs begin and end . . . with you.”

“Avery.” He whispers my name, claiming my mouth on a hushed curse.

I surrender to him, to the passion neither of us can deny, and to what I hope is the promise of our new beginning.

Chapter 23

The following week, I am seated across from Tasha at Vendange just after noon, sipping a glass of wine and catching her up on everything that’s happened since we last spoke. She’s on break at the restaurant, and the back booth we’ve commandeered affords us privacy from the rest of the staff and the activity in the main dining area and bar.

Her mouth is agape, her soft brown eyes wide as I reco

unt my stepbrother’s threats and harassment, culminating in his arrest.

“Holy shit, Ave.” She reaches for my hand across the table and gives it a tender squeeze. “Thank God you and Nick are all right.”

Of course, I couldn’t tell her about Rodney without first explaining my role in the whole ordeal. She had listened without judgment, without condemnation, as I quietly confided in her about my rape, and my actions in the time that followed.

That I’d been able to recount the details with dry eyes and a steady voice was a surprise to me. A revelation, really. Much of my emotional burden had lifted after I shared the story with Nick. He’s been helping me to carry it ever since, giving me his strength when I need to lean on it, and a soft place to land whenever I fall.

I’ve never felt so safe and protected—so at peace—before in my life.

Nick has given me all of that and more.

For the first time in nearly a decade, I’m not dreading tomorrow’s upcoming anniversary of that horrible day. Maybe someday August twenty-first will come and go without shredding me from the inside out.

“How’s your mom doing through all of this?” Tasha asks. “Have you been able to talk to her?”

I nod, aware that I am grateful to Nick for yet another kindness too. “We just got back yesterday from visiting her at the prison. She’s doing much better. The bone is finally healing, and they’ve even got her walking a little bit at the infirmary.”

She smiles. “You must be so relieved.”

“Yes, I am. It could’ve been so much worse. I’m still sick when I think about what Rodney did. Fortunately, the woman he was seeing who worked in the prison laundry cracked as soon as she heard he’d been arrested. She told the police everything—how he coerced her into pushing Mom down the stairs to get my attention and didn’t care how badly she got hurt. According to Rodney’s girlfriend, he’d gone to New York determined to collect as much as he could from Nick and me, even if he had to kill one or both of us to get it.”

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