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Trevan’s silhouette was barely visible where he stood in the darkness of the living room.

Her throat nearly closed off. “What are you doing home?”

He huffed. “Question is, what are you doing out?”

Her chest balled with hurt. “Living.”

Through the shadows, she watched turmoil twine his features in a fist. “You don’t know this guy, Elena.”

Her head barely shook, and she gulped around the thickness in her throat. “But I want to.”

He looked at his boots then back at her. “Do you?”

She forced a shaky nod. She wanted him more. So much more. But she knew she couldn’t have him.

“Please don’t tell my brother. I need…I need…” She stopped and started twice before Trevan slowly crossed the space between them.

The floor reverberated beneath his weight.

Uncertainty crawled across his ferocious face, but his hand was soft when he reached out and touched her chin. “Only thing I want in this world is for you to live.”

She knew he meant it without him.

So, she did.

She sneaked out to meet Patrick nearly every night.

Watched the glow of the city lights.

Talked and laughed.

His eyes were bright when he leaned in and kissed her. Held the side of her face in his palm, nudged her onto her back on the blanket.

He crawled over the top of her.

Tingles trickled through her, but it wasn’t explosive.

She wanted to let go. To sink in.

But she pushed her arm between them and let her fingers drum across his lips.

“I’m not ready for this.”

He pulled back with a nod and helped her to her feet, brushed his thumb along her cheek and murmured, “I’ll wait.”

SIXTY-FIVE

ELENA

“That’ll be sixty-seven ninety-two,” I said as I placed the stained-glass butterfly I’d wrapped in tissue paper into a Crimson Apple bag.

The customer tapped her card.

“Thank you so much for stopping in,” I told her.

“Thank you. This is going to look beautiful in my window back home. Something to remind me of this awe-inspiring place.”

“I’m so happy you’ve enjoyed your vacation. Have a nice day.”