“It’s all right,” he said in a rough voice. “It happens.”

He had no idea if that was true, but he wanted to make her feel better.

“What happens?” Kat pressed her palm tenderly in the center of his chest, tracing the cursive black ink with her fingertips.

Keeping his eyes on the flickering flames in the hearth, he answered: “I’m sure people say stuff like that a lot. You know, when they get carried away in the moment.” There was a second of complete silence where Kat tensed in his arms. Lightning lit the room sporadically.

Carter’s eyes fluttered closed when her hand touched his chin, bringing his face around to hers.

“You think I got lost in the moment?”

He shrugged.

Kat shook her head slowly from side to side and cleared her throat. “I didn’t get carried away, Wes.”

His name never sounded as good as it did when she said it. He held her stare, searching for any hint of a lie, but all her beautiful eyes told him was the truth.

“You didn’t?”

Her head continued to shake, as she mouthed silently, No.

His chest heaved, as he tried to regain thought and the ability to speak. “Wh—” His throat closed around the word. He swallowed, and tried again. “If you weren’t caught up in the moment,” he muttered, “why are you sorry?”

Kat drew invisible circles around Carter’s belly button. She stayed quiet for an age, driving Carter beyond distraction.

“I’m sorry because I didn’t want to say it that way. I didn’t know if you’d want to hear it. I was afraid you’d not want to hear it.” Gradually she brought her head up. “I didn’t want to say it while we were together this way.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s cliché. Tacky.”

“Kat.” He grabbed her wrists and shifted her back, sliding out of her body. He pulled her hands, clasping them over his heart. He breathed, collecting himself. “Did you mean it?”

His voice sounded so foreign. He felt so fucking small. Weak. Breakable.

Kat’s forehead dropped to his. She trembled against him.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I meant it. With everything that I am, I meant it.”

* * *

Saying those three words to him—as scary and unexpected as it was—had made Kat’s whole body light. She loved him with every part of herself, inside and out, good and bad, past and present.

His fingers were suddenly at her face, tracing her lips. “I want to hear it.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “I didn’t know how much until just now. Don’t ever be sorry about saying that.”

“But—”

He cut her off again with a burning kiss that made her toes curl. It was filled with lust, gratitude, and a long moan that came from his throat. He wanted to hear her say that she loved him. He wanted her to love him. Kat’s body folded into him in relief.

“Can I tell you something?” Carter asked quietly when their lips separated. “You’re the first person, the first person in my whole fuckin’ life, to ever say those words to me.”

Kat blinked.

“But your family,” she began, garnering an amused and sardonic expression from him. Okay. Of course not. “Your grandmother?” she hedged. “Friends?”

Carter’s eyes dropped to her mouth. “I was always ‘precious’ to Gran, and she did love me, but she never said the words. And my friends?” He chuckled. “We’re not exactly the huggy, affectionate types. Max is like my brother, but … no, we don’t say that to each other.”

Kat was astonished. How could the man before her never have heard anyone tell him that he was loved? What kind of parents would allow that? How could he have lived for so long with no one telling him how special he was?

Without words, she kissed him again.

“Don’t be sorry, for God’s sake,” he urged. “Christ, hearing those words from you … It doesn’t matter where or how you said it. What matters is that you said it at all.”

She held him close. With her lips by his ear, she whispered once more, “I love you.”

He squeezed her and placed a gentle kiss on her throat. “Thank you for being my first.”

She buried her nose into his buzzed hair. “Thank you for being mine.” Carter sat back, looking at her in question. “I’ve told people I love them before,” she clarified. “You know, family. But I’ve never felt this way about anyone, Carter.”

Carter’s grin lit the room.

“Wow.” He licked his lips and dropped his head against the back of the couch. He kept his eyes firmly on her. “Look at you.”

He continued to stare at her, holding her captive. Occasionally his mouth would open to speak, before he would close it again.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, running her palms down his sides. “Stop overthinking it.”

His body shook with laughter. He kissed her forehead. “You know me so well.”

“I do.” She sat up. She could see the battle: the fear in believing her and the hope that it was true. Her heart squeezed. “I didn’t say it to hear it back. It’s okay.”

“But—”

“No, Carter, really, I don’t need you to say it. And I don’t want you to think that you have to.” She stroked his face.

He stared up at her. “Why do you love me, Peaches?”

The absolute incomprehension in his expression crippled her. Kat trailed her thumb across his jaw as thunder crashed above the house.

“I love you because you’re very special.” She kissed his right cheek. “You’re generous.” His nose. “Caring.” His top lip. “Passionate.” His bottom lip. “And you are, without doubt, the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

He leaned his forehead to her chin. “Christ, I …” He lifted his head sharply, eyes wild. “I have to show you how—why I— There’s more.”

She held his face in an effort to calm him. “Show me whatever you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

He lifted her from his lap. With her cell lighting the way in the darkness, she hurried with her clothes to the downstairs bathroom, cleaned herself up, and made it back to him in time for him to wrap a large blanket around her shoulders. He had a flashlight in his hand.

He held out his hand for her. “Come with me.”

Kat placed her hand in his palm and let him lead her up the stairs and along the corridor. He came to a stop outside the third door down from their room and put his hand on the knob. He turned it and pushed the door open. It creaked loudly, as though it hadn’t been used for a long time. Kat was hit with a rush of cold air and a musty, aged smell.

With only the flashlight and the intermittent glimpse of the moon through the storm clouds, it was hard to see much. The small room was decorated with dark wallpaper, interrupted only by posters of cars and baseball players. A corkboard hung by the closet, covered in drawings and ticket stubs. White dust sheets hid the furniture, and the small bed was unmade with the mattress bare and unused. Kat turned to face Carter, who was looking at her patiently.

“This was your room,” she stated.

He moved the flashlight over the walls, pausing on a picture of a Triumph. They both remained quiet until Carter placed his arm around her shoulders and guided her to the bed, where she sat down. He ran his hand through her hair once before he moved over to the closet. He mumbled and cursed when he opened it and started to pull out boxes of different sizes. He rifled through them slowly until he pulled out a small book held together with a rubber band.

He stood and moved back toward the bed, sitting down next to her with a long breath. He placed the book on Kat’s now crossed legs, staring at it as though it would jump up and attack him. Kat moved her hand to Carter’s right knee and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Carter scratched his chin with the side of his thumb. “This is kind of a— It’s a diary,” he stuttered. “It sounds stupid, I know, but after …” He paused. “I just think it’ll explain things better.”

“You want me to read it?”

He laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, I— Fuck, Kat, I don’t know.”