That stopped him in his tracks. He came back and sat down. “Alright. What’s the truth?”

I had no idea where to start. What was the truth?

“The truth is that you put me on a pedestal.”

He frowned. “You say it like that was a bad thing.”

“It was.” I twisted the gold ring on my finger.

“For me to love you? For me to realize how amazing you are?” He shook his head. “Sorry if I fucked up by telling you that you’re important to me, Bren,” he added sarcastically.

“Loving me and idealizing me aren’t the same,” I said quietly.

“I didn’t idealize you,” he said, too quickly. He hadn’t even bothered to think about it.

“Yes, you did. You knew what I had done. Or hadn’t done. I guess that was pretty ideal in your mind. The virginal, pure girlfriend. But you thought that meant I would never mess up or make a wrong move.”

“Well, you’re smart. A lot smarter than me. When did thinking that become such an awful thing?” he demanded.

“That’s another thing.” I swallowed hard. “You put yourself down; it’s a habit, I know, but it says something about what you really think of me.”

“What do you mean?” He stared at me.

“If you’re such an idiot and I’m with you, what does that say about me?” I challenged. “Not much, right?”

“But that’s not how I mean it…” His eyebrows crashed low over his eyes.

“I know,” I interrupted. “But it’s only because you haven’t really thought about it. I always knew I’d mess up at some point. And it kind of felt like the longer we went with you telling me how terrible you were and how great I was, the more it would suck when we both faced the fact that that’s not true. And you being a loser and me being perfect are two huge lies. And each one is equally terrible in its own way.”

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, which was totally to his credit. He was thinking. Granted, he was thinking for a few minutes about things I’d been obsessing over for months, but it was the first step.

When he finally opened his mouth, he snapped it closed again. I wanted to hear what he had to say, wanted to know if it had made any difference to him.

“What is true, Brenna?” he asked, his voice a little cracked.

“What’s true is that I thought about you every day. And I missed you so much it made me ache. And I wanted to see the pictures you posted. And I hated missing school because it meant not seeing you, so I went even when I had pneumonia.” I took a deep breath. “And what’s also true is that I tried really hard to make something work with Saxon. I really tried,” I added for emphasis. I could feel myself radiating a shameful red.

“Why didn’t it work?” Jake asked. “He’s smart. I mean, he’s like a genius. And he’s loyal, in a weird way. And he‘s good-looking, I guess. I mean, I know girls find him attractive. Or whatever.” He shook his head. “It’s pretty weird to be sitting in your room defending fucking Saxon of all people.”

“He is a genius.” I chose my words carefully. “He’s loyal, and it is weird. And I am attracted to him. He’s also caring and tries hard to do the right thing, whatever that means. To him.” I looked at Jake closely. “But he isn’t you. And that makes all the difference.”

“Why?” Jake’s voice sounded hopeful.

“Because it’s youI want. I’m not giving you a specific reason, because I honestly can’t. I just want you.” I shrugged, but my shoulders felt really heavy. It hadn’t been that long since we had been intertwined, our lives expanding and contracting in the same rhythm. Then we were apart, and I felt scattered, but I didn’t know for sure that Jake felt that way. I realized that his whole visit might have been fueled mostly by guilt.

But then he was leaned forward, his eyes bright. “You want me? You’re sure?”

I thought about all we’d been through and all everyone had said and all I’d wanted and missed and done. That all made a difference, but in the end, there was only one truth.

“Yes,” I said. “I want you. I’m sure.”

Jake moved slowly next to me on the bed, then gathered me gently in his arms and crushed me, suddenly, against his body and held tight. “Jesus Christ, Brenna,” he said roughly. “This has been a crazy fucking few weeks.”

I put my arms around him and grabbed tight, balling my fists around his shirt in an effort to pull him closer to me. “You smell so good,” I choked out, breathing him in hard. “You feel so good.”

“I take it you missed me?” he asked, his adorably sweet smile back. And all for me.

I smiled back, but there was already a nagging fear in my too-busy brain. Jake and I were back together, back where we both needed to be, but this wasn’t going to just snap back to what it had been; and I knew I didn’t want that anyway. The truth was, we had both done things to inspire jealousy in each other, just because we wanted to. This relationship was not the same beast it had been when we both started dating, and I wasn’t sure what that meant for us.

Because I loved being Jake’s girlfriend. And I loved being free. I loved doing my own thing. I always felt like I had been doing that, but I wasn’t. I was doing what I thought made me a good girlfriend. I couldn’t just go back to that.

I also couldn’t just dump Jake and expect him to come back with open arms. There had to be a middle ground.

But in that moment, Jake’s eyes were looking at me hungrily. “I’ve really missed you.” He kissed me, just a warm dry kiss at first, then a set of small, teasing kisses, then deep, insistent kissing that opened me up the way only Jake ever had.

I knew now that it wasn’t what he did physically, because I had done it with someone else. It was his elemental taste, the way his tongue felt on mine, the sound of his voice when we pulled apart and he said my name. Every piece of it made me feel filled up and warmed over and home.

Which didn’t necessarily make sense. There was very little that Jake and I actually had in common. All I knew was that when I was with Jake, I felt calm. I felt at peace. I felt the exact way I’d felt the second I walked through the door of my home after being in another country. Paris was exotic and gorgeous and amazing; but there was only one place that would ever smell like home for me.

We must have been suspiciously quiet, because Mom made a lot of noise walking down the hallway and poked her head in.

“Sorry, Jake.” Mom flashed the laser eyes. “Brenna’s had a long day. She needs her rest.”

Jake answered, “Yes, Mrs. Blixen.”

He stood awkwardly, and Mom relented a little, sighing. “Five minutes.”

She left and he grabbed my face hard and kissed me. “I would tell you I’d come over, but your mother will be in and out a million times tonight,” he whispered. “Can we talk on the phone?”

“Yes!” I felt giddy despite my trepidations.

“I love you, Bren,” he said and kissed me again. His lips were sweet and insistent, burning softly over my cool skin, marking me with gentle nudges and delicate pulls.

He walked to the door, and looped back to grab the bangles off of my desk. “I need these.” He grinned and continued out backwards while I laughed, my relief intense and wonderful.

I heard him say good-bye to Mom and Thorsten, heard the door close shut behind him and felt a warm pulsing in my lowest regions. I wanted him back in this room, in my bed. I didn’t want to waste a minute. I was already plotting weekends with him and dates, getting all worked up about the things I hadn’t realized were so wonderful a few weeks before.

And then I remembered that Saxon was probably feeling like shit. I grabbed my cell and dialed his number.

He picked up fairly quickly. “Blix. It all worked out?” His voice was lazy.

“Jake and I are back together,” I said as calmly as I could and waited with my eyes closed and my lips pressed together.

“Well, I’ll bow out gracefully then.” His words sounded perfectly casual.