I glanced at the clock. 12:32. Not close enough to the end of my shift to sneak out.

“Can you get him to leave?” I asked.

“I don’t think this one is going to be easy to put off.” She pushed the door open wider, and Gavin’s frame filled the doorway.

I backed up a few steps. “What are you doing here?”

“You told me you worked at a coffee shop on Broadway. I’ve been to six today, trying to find you.”

“We have class tomorrow.”

“I didn’t want to see you in class.”

“Oh, boy!” Jenny said and ducked under his arm.

He let the door close behind her.

I held a damp rag out in front of me like a pathetic shield. “I don’t know you anymore. The Gavin I used to know wouldn’t just take off like you did last night. Like you did at the funeral.”

“You’re not the same either.”

I lowered my arms. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re so sad all the time.”

Rage bolted through me. “How dare you come in here and judge how I feel, now or ten years from now!” Jesus, he’d walked right out. How could he stand here and ask me why I was sad?

“I lost everything too!”

“NO!” I could tell my voice was hitting a shriek, one that would penetrate into the shop. I forced it down. “You made your choice. I was the one who had to live with it.”

His jaw was so tight that a muscle in his cheek started twitching. The only time I ever saw him like that was after his dad had done something awful, thrown things or threatened him. How many times had he run to my house after a shouting match?

God. I would not cry. Would. Not. I was strong. I was a survivor. I had gone four years without him, and I could go plenty more. This time I would walk away. I no longer cared about my shift, or the hours. Martin wasn’t going to fire me over leaving a little early one day.

I whirled around to sign out. Forget that, Jenny could forge my name. I’d text her later. I just wanted away from here.

But Gavin still blocked the door.

I walked up to him. “Let me get my things. I need to go to class.”

He didn’t budge. He wore all black again, a Dead Kennedys T-shirt from a 2011 concert. I didn’t know that band. He’d been to a show, and I had no idea where or when or what music he listened to. I knew nothing about him anymore.

“Gavin, please, let me go.”

Suddenly his arms were around me and he jerked my head into his chest. His heart hammered against my ear, and I could feel how overwrought he was, even though he was trying to hide it.

We stood there, glasses clinking in the room next door, the damp rag in my hand now between us, getting us both wet. I could feel time ticking along with the beat of his heart, slowing, revving down. I knew this was where I belonged, but there was no way to stay there.

“I have to believe we found each other for a reason,” Gavin said.

I shook my head against his chest. “No. It’s too late now. We can’t do this.” I tried to pull away, but his arms were a vise.

“Look up at me, Corabelle.”

I didn’t want to. Those blue eyes, that face. They were too familiar, too perfect.

But he made me. His hand came under my chin, and he lifted my head. I closed my eyes, refusing to look, but then his lips were on mine and the shock was so complete that I cried out against his mouth.

He pressed me against him. His kiss was fevered, hot, and everything I remembered from when we were young, plus so much more. He held my head against him and dove in deeply, his tongue parting my lips. When we fitted against each other every muscle in my body reacted and blood pounded through my veins in places I’d long since left for dead.

And I did feel utterly alive, kissing him back, my arms coming around him, letting the rag fall to the floor. He felt my response and his mouth became frenzied, his hands reaching down behind my thighs and lifting me up so that I straddled him. My arms curled around his neck, and I let go of everything, my fear, my anger, my grief, and just reveled in the heat blasting through me, the connection of our hips and his mouth trailing across my jaw and along my neck.

One of his hands cupped my bottom and squeezed, the other wrapped around my waist. He shifted me down, connecting us in that intimate way I’d only known with him, the roughness of his jeans bulging against my skirt, trapped between us. Despite everything we’d been through, I wanted nothing between us, and to find that place that had always bound us. Passion. Emotion. All the things I held away from myself since Finn, and the hospital, and that misery.

He groaned against my throat, pushing harder against me. Even with all the denim and fabric, I could feel it building, intense and hot and full of need. I clutched him, the strap of my sundress falling off my shoulder. Gavin nudged it with his nose, bending as much as he was able with me riding his hips, flicking his tongue along the lace edge of the bra. He stepped forward, resting me on the high dish counter, freeing his hand to cup my breast, still maintaining the rhythm between us.

I ached, desperate for more contact, for all of him. Every rational thought about where we were, who he was, what had happened was way beyond the glow of how I felt right now, explosive and hot.

The temperature shifted as the door opened, and Jenny’s “Oh, shit!” forced us to break apart.

She pushed her pink bangs out of her eyes. “Just needed to tell Corabelle something.” She appraised Gavin. “Not that it matters now.” She switched her gaze to me. “Loverboy is here.”

Oh, God. By the time I turned to Gavin, his eyes blazed. “You have a boyfriend?”

“What’s it to you?” The words snapped out of me before I could think about how he’d take it.

His fist smashed into the metal counter by my hip, rattling all the dishes. Jenny suppressed a shriek.

“Get out of here, Gavin,” I said.

“I had no idea you were so easy with everyone,” he spat out.

He backed away, and I struggled to catch myself as I slid off the high counter.

The door banged against the wall as he smashed through it to the shop. I hoped Austin wasn’t too obvious out there, because there was no telling what Gavin would do if he figured out which one he was.

“Holy shit, Corabelle!” Jenny said. “When you get back to business, you are BACK.”

I smoothed down my skirt, my hands shaking. I never had scenes like this in my life. “We have a history.”

“I’ll say! Wow! Nobody’s ever pinned me on a dish counter before!” She headed back to the door. “Should I put this guy off? Say you left already?”

I nodded. “I think that’s for the best.”

Jenny disappeared through the door, and I hurried for the loading-dock door that led out into the alley to make sure Gavin had left. Just as I turned the back corner, I saw him roar down the street on his motorcycle.

I pressed my fingers into my lips, tender and swollen. Everything had happened so fast. I didn’t know what to think, except Gavin had reawakened something in me, a dark hunger that was far more dangerous than the passion we explored as teens. I was in trouble, big trouble, and I couldn’t see any way out.

I pressed against the wall. Focus. Remember school. Your goals. Get done. Get out.

Class. I had to get to class.

But my legs ignored me and I slid down until I was on the ground, my knees to my chest, a stupid vulnerable pose in that skirt, no doubt flashing anyone who cared to glance back toward the alley.

Austin appeared in the gap between the buildings, and I prayed he wouldn’t look this way. I scrambled to my feet, ready to flee, but of course the bits of rock and brick crunched beneath my shoes and got his attention.

“Corabelle?” He peered into the shadows.

I ran for the door but damn it, I forgot it locked on the outside. I could hit the delivery buzzer, but if Jenny was busy, she wouldn’t come right away.