"Since that night I saw you again, I haven't been able to shut you out of my head. Not that the last three years were any different—I've been missing you every single day."
He drags a hand down his face.
"I told her that I want to pursue a serious relationship with you and I need to show you exactly where I stand, no second-guessing, no bullshit. Because you deserve better than that. Hell, if I'm being real, you deserve better than me—but I still want to try."
His head tips back against the frame, eyes closing for a beat before he finds me again.
"And now that the whole mess with her ex is getting handled—the restraining order's gonna keep him off her back—there's no point in us pretending to be a thing anymore. But even if it wasn't? Even if all that hadn't been resolved, I still would've ended it. Because it wouldn't be fair—to you, or to what I'm trying to build with you."
He takes a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "She understood. More than I thought she would, honestly. Told me she got it. Told me to go for it. Even wished me luck—wished us luck."
Well, there it is.
The answer to the question I'd been chewing on earlier but didn't have the guts to ask—whether he and Taylor were still fake-fuck-buddies or not. Guess not.
And honestly? I don't know what the hell to do with that information.
Part of me wants to clap like he just gave a TED Talk on Commitment 101. Another part of me wants to curl into a ball because—God help me—it actually sounds like he means it. I think he does.
I appreciate it, though. More than I can even say.
He keeps offering me these little reassurances, like he knows I need them.
And it matters. A lot. Even if it's still too soon to trust him again.
"You didn't need to do that... for me."
"Yes, I do." His mouth curves into a half-grin. "I don't wanna make this harder for you than it already is or give you more reason to doubt me..."
He shifts, eyes never leaving mine. "I really want to make this right by you. And I don't want anything that could jeopardize having a future with you... of you being mine."
And there goes my traitorous, foolish heart—eating his words like they're gourmet chocolate, while my brain's waving a giant neon sign that saysgirl, calm down, that's literally just the bare minimum.Like, congratulations Zach, you discovered honesty. Want a cookie?
I clear my throat, forcing my lips into something between a smirk and a shield. "That's a little presumptuous of you—assuming I evenwantto be yours."
His grin stretches wider, smug and slow, the kind that makes heat crawl up my neck. A low chuckle rumbles out of him, rich and unhurried.
"Oh, you want to be mine," he drawls, leaning back just enough to look maddeningly sure of himself. "You're just not ready to admit it yet."
I roll my eyes at him.
Figures he'd say that. Always pressing the exact button that makes my stomach flip and sends all the butterflies in there throwing a rave with glow sticks.
The sharp ding-ding-ding of the dryer cuts through the room, "Oh—dryer's done!" I blurt, way too quickly.
I spring up in a flash and scurry into the bathroom because I didn't want to look like a human tomato in front of the one person who definitely doesn't need the ego boost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-nine
CAROLINE
Iwake up to the god-awful blaring right by my ear — my alarm's ringtone, shrieking like a banshee with a megaphone. It's basically screaming"get your ass up, jog time!"at 5:30 a.m.
I groan, smacking around blindly for my phone like a drunk raccoon raiding garbage until I finally hitdismiss.
Blessed silence.
I sigh, long and dramatic. I'm still so damn sleepy. My eyelids feel like they've been super-glued shut, and prying them open is about as easy as trying to lift dumbbells with spaghetti arms.
