My matcha.
My Dean’s List.
My Christmas room.
I stepped closer.
This time, Dylan didn’t move.
“You left,” I said.
“I did.”
“You stayed gone. Never contacted me.”
“It was for the best.”
“Why?”
His eyes darkened.
Behind him, the bikes gleamed under streetlights. The ocean air moved between us. My pulse beat beneath the cuff hidden under my sleeve.
“Because Regan was right,” he said.
I swallowed.
“About what?”
“You needed a life that wasn’t built around fire.”
My voice shook. “And you decided you were fire?”
“I know what I am.”
“Do you?”
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
Only for one second.
But I saw it.
Felt it.
Remembered Cabo so hard my knees nearly forgot the sidewalk.
Then he looked away.
“Get her back safe,” he told Nate.
My chest went cold. “You’re not serious.”
Nate’s grin vanished. “Dyl?—”
“I’ve got something to check.”
“No, you don’t,” I snapped.
