“Well...yeah.”

“Why did you kiss me, Kris?”

“I...” I stumbled, caught off guard. There were so many reasons—more of them than I wanted to admit, even to myself. But they were all selfish. Not one of them was fair to her.

“Was that in your book? Did Noelle tell you to kiss me?” She was angry now, and suddenly I could see the approaching storm. She thought I was still taking my cues from a dead woman’s dreams. That I’d kissed her not because I’d wanted to, but because I’d thought I was supposed to.

“No. That was my own mistake, and I’m not going to blame it on Elle.”

“Mistake?” Sera recoiled as though I’d slapped her, and I realized I’d fucked up. Again. Surely I was close to setting a record.

“No.” I shook my head and reached for her hand beneath the table. “That’s not what I meant.”

“So it wasn’t a mistake?”

I exhaled slowly, trying to focus my thoughts. “I honestly don’t know.” In fact, I’d never been so conflicted in my life. “If it was a mistake, it was a wonderful mistake. But it wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

She frowned, confused. “It was a surprise, but that doesn’t make it unfair.”

“It was unfair because you’re grieving, Sera. I didn’t mean to take advantage of that. I don’t want to take advantage. I shouldn’t have—”

“What if it was fair for me?” She squeezed my hand. “What if I want you to take advantage?”

“I’m not sure what that means.” My brain couldn’t process what she was saying, but my body was fully on board.

“You’re a good guy. I wasn’t sure at first, but I am now, and I get that you don’t want to use me. But...people deal with grief in different ways, Kris.” She glanced down at the table, and when she met my gaze again, vulnerability shone in hers. “Haven’t you ever needed to touch someone? To be touched?”

Panic burned deep in my chest, but something hotter smoldered even lower. She was saying all the things I’d want to hear under normal circumstances. Unburdening me of my conscience. But...

But her eyes reflected something fragile and important. Something like a rose petal or a butterfly wing—too delicate to touch without bruising. And I had the psychological grip of an ogre. A brute’s emotional finesse. I wanted what she was offering—I wanted more than she was offering—but I’d been where she was, and I could see how vulnerable grief had made her, even if she couldn’t see it. I knew how our connection would end for her.

In regret.

I would want more, and she would want out.

I pulled my hand from hers as gently as I could. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Sera. That’s not what I’m looking for.” I didn’t want to be something she regretted later. I didn’t want to be the Band-Aid she threw away when the wound healed. I wanted more than that. But she wasn’t ready for more.

Sera’s eyes swam in pain, then when she blinked, all that was gone. She’d closed me out. But when she stood, shoving her chair back with the motion, her cheeks were scarlet.

“Sera. I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.” I reached for her hand, but she pulled away from me, and that ache in my chest became a constant, painful throb.

“Don’t be sorry. I misinterpreted...things. Good night.” She didn’t even look back on her way into the living room, and I could only listen to her steps on the stairs, while I held a mug of homemade hot chocolate and grotesquely melted marshmallow Peep, trying to figure out how I’d managed to alienate the one woman in the world I actually wanted to be with. The first in six years.

The first since Noelle.

Damn it!

I shoved the table, and it squealed across four feet of ancient linoleum.

Seconds later, the living room floorboards creaked and I looked up to find Kori in the doorway. “What the hell is wrong with you?” my sister demanded. “She likes you. That couldn’t be more obvious.”

I poked my melted Peep with one finger. “Where were you hiding?”

“I wasn’t hiding. I was using Gran’s computer. Mine’s frozen again.” She pulled out the chair Sera had been sitting in and sank into it. “How was I supposed to know you’d pick tonight to demonstrate how little you’ve learned about women since your junior year of high school?”

“It’s complicated. She’s complicated.”

“Bullshit. Noelle was as complicated as they come, and you kept up with her for years, so why is it you can’t master one conversation with Sera?”

“Do you have any constructive criticism, or is this just fun and games for you?”

“This is a fucking tragedy, Kris. You like her. Why the hell would you turn her down?”

“I turned her down because I like her.”

“And, what, now you only sleep with girls you don’t like? Have I missed some new masochistic trend?”

“Kori, I don’t want to be the grief-guy. That guy’s disposable. He’s not meant to outlast the mourning period. I want to be the guy that lasts, and she’s not ready for that guy yet.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” She propped one elbow on the table and scowled at me. “Who the hell are you to decide what she’s ready for?”

“I’ve been where she is. I took comfort from girls who had no idea they were disposable.”