What a gorgeous face it is.

  It’s a perfect oval with rounded cheekbones and a refined nose. Her gray eyes turn up slightly at the outer corners, but the lids are hooded, making the gray appear darker than it actually is, forcing you to come close to glimpse the real her. And my favorite part: those pouty, pink lips that are so fucking bitable, when they’re not spewing words that cut like knives.

  Watching her step out of another man’s car into the pouring rain is not what I hoped would happen when I drove here tonight. And the visceral ache in my chest is telling me I should just leave; let her get on with her life. But as her gaze meets mine, I know there’s no way I’m going without saying what I came to say.

  I can’t tell her what happened that night, but I have to tell her how I feel about her. She has to know she means more to me than any woman I’ve ever known.

  And I need to find out if she’s moved on, or if there’s still a chance for us to make this work. Because if this is truly over, I can start the process of transferring to Stanford to be near Frankie.

  But the way Colette’s face changes from relief to anger quicker than a flash of lightning makes me think I’ll be speaking with my thesis advisor very soon.

  13

  Unequivocally

  I’ve never been so bored in all my life.

  How is it a guy can seem so witty and engaging on Tinder, then turn out to be completely void of personality in real life?

  The only thing keeping me from standing up and walking out of this Buffalo Wild Wings is the unfortunate fact that I don’t have a car to get home. I actually let this guy pick me up for our date. To Buffalo Wild Wings.

  I think I may need professional help. Well, more professional help than my new therapist, who recently said, “If you keep comparing all your dates to Jake, you’ll keep being disappointed. Maybe you should create a list of non-negotiable qualities you’re seeking in a partner and compare your dates to your list instead.”

  Here’s my non-negotiable list: respects women, respects me, good kisser, smart, funny, sexually generous, emotionally available, and honest.

  Except for that last one, Jake embodies all those qualities, and so much more.

  My date leans forward to take a sip of his lemonade, and his dark hair falls into his face. He flips it back to get it out of his eyes, then he resumes his story about his evil coworker as I absentmindedly stuff my face with french fries.

  It’s the fourth story he’s told about this coworker who, “can’t seem to understand her place in the pecking order.”

  “So, she volunteered to help my boss sift through the resumes for a new marketing manager, and I was like, ‘Hello? That’s my job.’”

  My eyelids flutter with a combination of boredom and seething rage as I allow my mind to wander to which method I’ll use to kill Anissa and Dahlia for persuading me to reactivate my Tinder account. They insisted all I needed to take my mind off Jake is a guy who can either make me laugh or make me come. They didn’t warn me how painful it would be to get through the not-laughing part on the way to the seeing-if-he-can-make-me-come part.

  “Sometimes, you gotta settle for one or the other,” Anissa said. “We can’t always get everything on our wishlist.”

  Tell that to my body and heart, both of which can’t stop craving Jake’s touch, his scent, his laugh, his terrible jokes. I had everything I wanted in him. Everything except the truth.

  “So, you’re a beekeeper, huh?” Greg asks as he leans forward to take another sip of lemonade, only to have his hair fall in his face again.

  I nod, wishing the glass of iced tea in front of me was whiskey.

  “Yeah, we mostly work in urban settings. We lease out pollinator hives and sometimes, like yesterday, I’m called to businesses and residences to relocate a hive. Yesterday, this adorable old lady called us. She had a hive growing under her porch for a few years and needed it gone because one of her grandchildren got stung. But she didn’t want to call an exterminator because she and her granddaughter watched The Bee Movie together, and she knows how important it is to save the bees, and—”

  “That’s cool. I’ve seen that movie. Have you seen the one with the ants? What’s it called?”

  “A Bug’s Life?” I say, trying not to look too annoyed at the interruption, especially when I had to suffer through an hour of his inane office politics.

  “Yeah, that movie was great,” he says as he looks around the restaurant. “I’ve gotta go to the restroom. I think those wings are sliding right through me.”

  I flash him an uncomfortable smile, and he rushes off to find the bathroom. As I watch him leave, I realize he’s clenching his ass cheeks together. This date has officially gone down the toilet.

  “Thank you for picking me up and dropping me off,” I say as Greg pulls his Hyundai Sonata in front of my apartment building. “I had a good time.”

  The tight smile on his face tells me he knows that last line was a bald-faced lie. “Yeah, me too. I’ll text you.”

  “Okay,” I say as I push the passenger side door open and step out into the pouring rain.

  In my haste, I accidentally slam the door shut, but I don’t bother apologizing. I need to get inside before I’m sucked back into the boring black hole that is Greg, and before I’m washed away by the torrential downpour. Actually, that second option doesn’t sound so bad. All drains lead to the ocean, right?

  I turn away from the car, prepared to make a mad dash for the dry safety of the awning that covers the entrance to my building, but what I glimpse beneath it stops me cold.

  Jake is standing there, lurking in the shadows of the covered entrance, like a dark specter of our haunted pasts. As my mouth falls open in complete shock, my heart bursts into a racing drumbeat, a pounding song that drowns out all my thoughts.

  All thoughts except one: How could you? How could you wait five fucking weeks to come back here?

  The sensation of cold rain soaking through my white Mariners hoodie brings me back to reality. And all the anger and hurt I’ve felt for the past few weeks consumes me. I turn to my right and head toward the corner of 8th and Seneca.

  “Colette, wait!” Jake calls after me as he follows not far behind. “Colette!”

  I stop at the corner and spin around, my entire body aching from the devastation I’ve felt since he walked out my door. I’m fully prepared to tell him what a bastard he is, how he should have never come back here, until I notice the anguish on his face. My stomach vaults as I’m sucked out of my sorrow and plunged into the depths of the pain I see in his eyes.

  “Where are you going?” he says, removing his black, zippered tech hoodie as he catches up to me on the corner. “Here, take this.”

  I stare at the jacket as he holds it out to me. “What are you doing, Jake?”

  The rain soaks into his dark hair, ruining his perfect hairstyle as he stares back at me. He seems as confused by his actions as I do.

  “Are you with someone else now?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder toward the curb, where I stepped out of Greg’s car.

  “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

  His eyes close, and he takes a slow breath as the rain falls in runnels over his face.

  “Why did it take you so long?” I ask, my impatience getting the better of me.

  He opens his eyes at this new question. “I didn’t know how to do this. I’ve never done something like this before.”

  I try to focus on my breathing instead of how handsome he looks with his hair and clothing soaked in rain. But it’s hard not to be reminded of the showers we’ve taken together. The intimacy of washing each other’s bodies. The joy of kissing under a stream of raining water.

  “You’ve never done something like this? Like what?” I ask.

  He steps toward me and drapes his jacket over me. Even with the late October chill and the cool rainwater seeping into our skin, I can still feel his body heat as he wraps the hoodie around my shoulders. I can smell the clean, warm scent of his skin.

  He watches me as I pull the jacket tighter around my shoulders. “I don’t give a fuck who that guy is. I came here to say something. All I ask is you hear me out. And if you still want me to leave, I’ll go.”

  I stare into his eyes for a moment as I inhale the scent of his hoodie. “I’m listening.”

  He nods as he takes a deep breath. “I need you to know why I couldn’t tell you about my sister. You see… My mom was killed in front of my sister a few months ago.”

  “What?” I blur out. “I’m sorry. I’m just… Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you this because I need you to understand why I couldn’t say it before. I need you to know I didn’t know how to tell you… not without giving you the details of what happened. But… so much of it isn’t my story to tell. It’s Frankie’s.”

  “Frankie?”

  “My sister,” he says, reaching behind my shoulders to pull the hood of his jacket over my head. “I also didn’t want to scare you off. I mean, what happened to my family is… some really heavy shit. It’s definitely changed me.”

  His hands stall at the edges of my face as he looks into my eyes. Holding my gaze for a moment, he pulls his hands away slowly, allowing his gaze to linger on my mouth. My stomach flutters at the thought of kissing him for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

  “I wish you’d told me this the last time you were here,” I say, bringing his attention back to my eyes. “I wouldn’t have asked you to leave.”

  “I know. I fucked up… again.” This brings a hesitant smile to both of our faces. “I should have told you. I just didn’t know how. There’s so much I should have said.” He reaches up to brush rainwater off the tip of my nose. “And there’s still one thing I need to say before I leave.”

  My muscles tense at the thought of him leaving without coming inside. “What is it?”

  A soft smile spreads across his gorgeous face as his gaze flits toward my mouth again.

  “I think I’m in love with you, Colette.”

  I let out a small cough as I suddenly find it difficult to breathe.

  “You love me?” I whisper, just loud enough to be heard over the gentle patter of raindrops and the easy rush of slow traffic.

  “I know I’m not supposed to feel this way about you. Not so soon, and definitely not this fucking hard,” he continues, and his smile recedes as his eyes blaze with a desperate need for me to understand. “But I do. I fucking love you. And I don’t want to hurt you, but there are things I can’t share with you about my sister. And it’s not because I don’t trust you. In fact… If you’re free, I want you to come with me to California to meet Frankie in a few weeks.”

  My mind races as I process everything he just said.

  He loves me. No, he fucking loves me.

  Hard.

  He wants me to meet his sister in a few weeks.

  A few weeks from now would be very close to Thanksgiving. With his father and mother both gone, is he asking me to spend the holiday with the only family he has left?

  My sinuses sting with tears as the gravity of the situation sinks in. The weight of his agony bears down on me, and it’s terrifying.

  “I’ve been so angry and hurt these past few weeks,” I say, grateful for the Seattle rain as I pray it disguises my tears.

  But I can never fool Jake.

  He reaches up and brushes the mixture of wetness from my cheek. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should have come here sooner.”

  I shake my head, nudging my face into the warmth of his hand as he holds it there.

  “I’m not seeing anyone else,” I say, my gaze locking on his. “I was just trying to get you off my mind, but it’s impossible.”

  He smiles as his thumb strokes my cheek. “I know the feeling. You’re like a mind virus. Coca-Colette-dot-E-X-E.”

  I let out a congested laugh. “That may be the nerdiest, most awful joke I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

  “I’ve got plenty more,” he says as his hand slides down my face to cup my jaw. “I want to give you so much more, but I need some time.”

  The suggestion that he may not open up to me about his past for “some time” is disconcerting. I don’t know if I can handle being on the outside looking in for an undetermined period. But it seems like this has more to do with protecting his sister’s privacy than not trusting me with his secret.

  I just wish the mystery of Jake didn’t involve someone else. Because I want to know everything about him. Especially since he’s the only one who knows my darkest secret.

  I want to know about his past, his present, and his plans for the future. I want to feel his pain and his joy. I want to know everything he hates and loves.

  I know I’m not supposed to feel this way about you. Not so soon, and definitely not this fucking hard… But I do. I fucking love you.

  The way we met and the way we’ve fallen so hard for each other in the months since Elle died has felt like teetering somewhere between a dream and reality.

  I shouldn’t have met someone so amazing on the worst day of my life. I shouldn’t have fallen for the guy I set out to use as a distraction from my grief. I shouldn’t have tumbled so willingly into his arms when he showed up at the farmers’ market.

  But all those things did happen. And I can’t help but think they happened for a reason. I don’t know what that reason would be, but I think bringing two drowning souls together, and throwing them a life-raft in the middle of a storm, is reason enough.

  I sigh as his other hand comes up to cup my damp face. His eyes are rapt with attention as he awaits my reply. And my mouth curves into a smile as I come to a completely inevitable conclusion.

  “I love you, too.”

  The words spill from my mouth without hesitation, because I feel them in my bones. I unequivocally and without a doubt love Jake. And as I await his response, I realize I’m not afraid of the intensity of my feelings for him anymore. I’m ready to fall totally and completely in love with him.

  His brow furrows as he seems overcome with emotion. “You have no fucking idea how happy you just made me.”

  His lips taste like rainwater and cinnamon as they capture mine. We easily lose ourselves in the pace and movement of our mouths. The rhythm of our kiss is a key that unlocks emotions hidden deep inside me. The sensation of his tongue sweeping over mine is like a hot cup of coffee on a rainy morning, so soothing and nostalgic.

  He pulls away and leans his forehead against mine. “Come to California with me for Thanksgiving.”

  I grasp onto the front of his damp T-shirt as I try to catch my breath.

  I want to know Jake better, and it seems like knowing his sister is a huge part of understanding him. I’m definitely not looking forward to spending the holidays with my parents. But I’m not sure if I can leave them alone on our first Thanksgiving after Elle’s death.

  Jake tilts his head back and gazes down at me, his eyes full of hopeful anticipation as he awaits my response.

  14

  Wondrous

  Her eye makeup is smeared with raindrops and tears, and it only makes her even more beautiful. But it reminds me I need to take her inside or she’ll freeze. It’s barely above fifty degrees out here, and she’s soaked to the bone.

  “Come on. We need to get you inside,” I say, grabbing her hand to guide her back to the warm, dry lobby.

  The way her hand almost disappears in mine as our fingers interlock makes me nervous. She doesn’t understand how small and vulnerable she looks to a man like me. Being scrappy isn’t enough to protect a woman when someone is intent on overpowering them.

  My mom was feisty as hell, but that only seemed to add fuel to the inferno of my stepdad’s anger.

  I glance down the hallway when Colette and I reach her front door. I don’t want to make Colette feel unsafe in her home, so I’ll keep it to myself how worried I’ve been these past few weeks whenever I’ve thought of the conflict with her neighbor.

  I know the statistics about violence against women. It’s necessary for my thesis. It’s definitely not the sort of knowledge that eases one’s mind when the woman you love is being harassed by a man with obvious anger issues.

  Data shows 97% of young women, ages eighteen to twenty-four, have been harassed in public. And nearly half of those women didn’t feel it was worth reporting the harassment.

  This is why I made Colette promise to tell me if her neighbor bothered her again. I want to know if the harassment escalates. It clearly did when the bastard destroyed the gift I left for her. She doesn’t understand how fast a situation like this can turn into violence.

  In her apartment, Colette releases Gary from his crate, and he greets us both with excited whimpers and butt wiggles. I squat down to let him lick my face, and he nearly knocks me over when he jumps up and puts his paws on my shoulders.

  “I guess he missed you,” Colette says as she reaches for his leash, where it hangs from a nail on the wall. “I’ve never seen him jump on anyone.”

  I stand and hold my hand out for the leash. “I’ll take him out, so you can change into something dry.”

  She smiles as she hands it over. “Thanks.”

  When Gary and I return, Colette is waiting just inside the door, dry clothes on her back and a towel in her hands for Gary.

  Hanging the leash on the nail, a tentative smile spreads across my face as she tends to the dog. Something about this feels too easy. It’s probably because I still haven’t given Colette enough information to decide whether she wants to spend Thanksgiving with Frankie and me in California.

  When Gary is dry enough, he returns to his dog bed as Colette and I take a seat on hers. We watch him rub his back and fur all over the bed for a moment before we turn to each other.