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I nod because I do believe him. I never once thought he actually wanted to abandon me in the hospital. What hurt was that he didn’t think I’d understand.

Our knees touch sitting across from each other like this. “I thought we were going to handle whatever came our way together,” I say in a near whisper.

It would’ve been too much to expect, now or then. When an agent is called in by the FBI for an investigation, it’s not news you can share with anyone. I’m aware of this fact but it doesn’t mean it hurts less. I would’ve liked to have been there for him.

“And then I went and betrayed that trust,” he adds. “I’m really sorry, Scarlett. I know you say you trust me. But maybe there’s a part of you that doesn’t, not anymore. And if that’s causing this uncertainty with listening to your gut, I take full responsibility.”

I hadn’t ever blamed him for this. I never even thought about it that way. What if my insecurity hasn’t been about my informant getting away? What if it’s been about Nathan getting away?

“That was pretty rude,” I say.

“No question.”

“And it hurt. More than the bullet.”

He winces. “It hurt me, too.”

“And honestly? It was reckless.”

He takes my hand in his. “The most reckless.”

Nathan’s eyes go heavy when he looks at me like there’s something unfinished between us, which, there is. Of course, it’s only coming back up now, when there’s a countdown on our alone time, and a potential countdown on our lives.

That’s when a switch is flipped inside of me.

Last year, I nearly died and lost the chance to tell him how I feel. Here we are one year later, on the precipice of danger yet again, and I’m not losing my moment.

I cup his face in my hands. “I know whatever this is between us has never been convenient. Seeing each other only at the holidays, last year getting cut short, being brought together at dire times. Still… it’s always been worth it. You’ve always been worth it. This I know in my heart, not my gut.”

My truth hangs between us in this warm, five-star bathroom while snow begins to fall outside. Take away the fact that an evil Santa is after us, and this has all the makings to be romantic—or devastating.

The silence stretches, and I think it’s leaning toward the latter until Nathan says, “You will always be worth it. I don’t deserve another chance with you. I don’t even think I deserved you the last time. But if we get another shot, I won’t blow it.” He brings his lips closer to mine and says against them, “FBI and Sadistic Santa be damned.”

There’s a question in his eyes. Can I?

I simply nod. He takes me into his arms and kisses me like—or because—we’re in our final hours on earth. We must know there’s no time to waste because we get straight to what we both want. So often in this job, my blood pulses through my system at a dizzying speed, but when Nathan kisses me, my heart rate slows. Steadies.

He unties the loop of my robe and slips it off my shoulders. It pools around the ledge, and he smoothly lifts me up in his arms and lays me in the tub on top of a few towels.

“Does this hurt?” he asks, rubbing gentle circles across my rib cage.

I shake my head. “Not when you do that. Take everything off but go get the hat,” I direct, and he does. Nathan consistently pushes back when I tell him what to do except, it seems, when we’re doing this.

He’s back in seconds, and we pick up where we left off. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly to me like there’s a chance he could get away again. I don’t think my emotional heart can take it a second time.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nathan says, reading into my not-so-covert actions.

I loosen my grip, just a little.

Last year when we were together, everything felt shiny and vibrant and new. An unopened toy free of scratches or cracks. This year, being with Nathan again feels more well-worn, covered in scuffs and dents. Dinged up, but still perfect.

I wrap my legs around his hips, feeling every inch of him. We didn’t get to be intimate last year—gunshot wound and all—but I wanted him every single day we were together. I still do.

I gently run my hands across Nathan’s pecs as he trails kisses down my neck. My eyelids flutter closed, and I lose all sense of time and place in his arms.

“Tell me the truth,” I say, meeting his eyes. “When you left last year, was it because of the investigation, really, or was it because you told me you loved me and got scared?”

“So you did hear me say that,” he says.