No. Don’t do it.

But when I heard the bathroom door open and shut, I acted without hesitation. I wanted to know—was he feeling anything like I was? Was he just too scared to tell me? Crouching down, I flipped quickly to the last page and looked to see what he’d written. My heart was already beating madly when I saw my name.

Skylar

You fall softly

like snow

mine

I read through the words on the page quickly, gooseflesh covering my skin, and when I didn’t hear the door open again, I read through it once more, savoring the words this time. Tears welled in my eyes—I did want to gather the broken pieces of him close to me. But what did he mean by my “foolish” heart? Was he saying I was dumb to think this could work?

I flipped back a couple pages and the word kissing caught my eye. As I began to read, my stomach turned over.

I’m kissing her. We’re on the couch, and she’s sitting beside me. My hands are in her hair, and it occurs to me that I could have the urge to put my hands on her neck and squeeze her throat, cutting off her air. I am weak and will give in to this urge. I pull back from the kiss and she smiles at me. I wrap my hands around her throat and watch the confusion come over her face, her blue eyes widening in concern. She is vulnerable and helpless and trusting. Helpless to control the impulse, I squeeze hard, so that she cannot breathe. Her pale complexion purples as she struggles to breathe, and her eyes are terrified. In a moment, it’s done. I’ve crushed the life out of this beautiful creature, and I deserve to die for it.

The screen door opened. “What the fuck?”

I jumped up, my face burning hot, my skin prickling with shame. “Oh God, Sebastian. I’m sorry, I—”

“Godammit, Skylar. This is personal.” He set the cups on the wood floor so hard coffee sloshed over the edges and picked up the notebook, which was still open to the page I’d read. As he glanced at it, his complexion darkened. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, tears spilling over. “I just wanted to know how you felt and you wouldn’t tell me. But…what is that stuff about choking someone?” Those words…what the hell was that about? Was it some kind of fantasy? Or was it therapy?

He slammed the notebook shut and stared at me. I’d never seen such rage in his eyes. “Did you need to see if I was the monster I say I am? Got your fucking answer, didn’t you.”

“Please. I don’t think you’re a monster.” I yanked the sheet up higher and wiped at the tears coursing down my cheeks.

“Yes, you do. I can see it on your face.”

“No. It was so wrong of me to look in there, Sebastian, and I’ll never do it again. Please say you’ll forgive me.”

He closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled loudly.

“Talk to me!”

He opened his eyes and stared hard at me. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want the truth. Did you look in it the first time? The time I left it at the shop?”

Oh fuck. This really sucked. I wasn’t even wearing clothes—I had no armor at all. Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

“What did you see?”

I swallowed hard. “I saw the list of things with the numbers, and I saw that Talk to Skylar Nixon was written.”

“Anything else?” The cold fury in his voice made me tear up all over again.

“Yes. I saw a poem you must have written about me the day we saw each other again at the beach. It was so beautiful, Sebastian. I was so drawn to you after reading it.”

He laughed bitterly. “Really.”

“Yes! At least I’m being honest!”

“You got caught. You have to be honest now.”

I bit my lip, torn between wanting answers and knowing I should shut up. “What was that about choking a woman? Was it therapy? Was it about me?”

“Fuck off. Not everything in my life is about you.” He turned and stormed into the cabin, leaving me to sob uncontrollably on the porch.

God, why couldn’t I have minded my own business? Why hadn’t I just asked him directly what I wanted to know? Why couldn’t he and I make this work, and was it even worth trying? If our start was this rocky, should we just forget it?

I collapsed onto the porch steps and cried hard into my arms.

Up in the loft, I threw the fucking notebook on the floor and sat down hard on the edge of the bed. I was mad as fuck, and I was horrified. Skylar had seen really fucked-up things that I’d written—things that I wasn’t comfortable sharing with her yet, so I’d lashed out. The SUDS list was one thing, I might have talked with her about that eventually anyway, but the stuff about her…God. She’d seen the exercise Ken had recommended where I imagine the worst—I’d written that the night I’d seen her at the beach in the attempt to lessen the impact of the thought, to wrest control away from it. I’d written in graphic detail about strangling her—my God, what she must think? She was probably down there calling the police!

It was a matter of time, anyway.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe that was true.

Still, I’d treated her cruelly. As if I didn’t know what it was like to mess up and be sorry for it. And yet she’d apologized and asked my forgiveness.

I was a monster.

You warned her. She can’t say you didn’t.

“So now what, asshole?” I muttered, rubbing my face with my hands.

From downstairs I heard the screen door shut, and a moment later I saw her messy blonde head coming up the ladder. She got to the top, struggled with the sheet, then stood up tall. Her face was tearstained and her eyes were red, but the set of her chin was defiant.

“Here’s the thing,” she announced. “I’m not letting us ruin this.”

“Ruin what?”

“Our beginning. I don’t care what you wrote in that book, you are not a monster and I’ll never think that. So if that’s what has you all in knots right now, let’s just get that out of the way.”

I was too stunned to say anything.

“And I was completely wrong to look in your notebook the way I did. I’m sorry.” She lifted her shoulders. “I wanted to know how you felt.”

I’m falling in love with you.

“Sebastian.” She walked toward me, and I focused on the sheet wrapped around her body. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” I said lamely. I stared at her bare feet, toe to toe with mine.

“Yes, you do. You’re scared. I am too.” She put her hand under my chin and forced me to meet her eyes. “I was there last night, remember? I heard the things you said. I said things back to you, and I meant them.”

Finally, I looked up and met her eyes. “I meant the things I said too.”

“OK.” She rubbed my arm. “Then we have something worth fighting for, something young and a little unsteady on its legs, but it can get stronger.”

“What if this is just too much work?” I blurted, hating myself for sounding like a coward.

“For who?”

“Both of us. What if I keep fucking up and you get tired of having to forgive me?”

“Hey.” She knelt at my feet. “I don’t want you to be anyone other than who you are. I don’t know how else to tell you that. And look, it was me today that fucked up and needed forgiveness, right?”

“I guess so.”

“And I’ll never do that again. Your journal is your business. Your therapy is your business. I was totally wrong to look in it.” She hesitated. “Even if your words about me did give me goose bumps.”

I laughed a little, embarrassed but pleased. “Did they?”

“Yes.” She looked up at me with wide, searching eyes, and I felt my dick begin to stiffen. “But why did you say I had a foolish heart? Do you think I’m a fool? Sometimes I think I’m not smart enough for you.”

My chest caved. “Skylar. I didn’t mean it like that.” Leaning down, I took her head in my hands and kissed her softly, then reached for the sheet wrapped around her. She stood and let it fall, and I grabbed her beneath the arms, tipping her back on the bed. I stretched out over her, covering her naked body with my clothed one, brushing her hair back from her face.