I could say it was because she’d protected my daughter, but that wouldn’t be true.

I could say it was because I saw her layers as she held that toy soldier in her small hand, but that would be bullshit, too.

I did it because I had to. Because fuck the consequences and Jordan Van Der Zee and everything standing between us. For the first time in five years, I put my lips on another person’s and kissed her. Hard.

My mouth coming down on hers was like riding a bike. It came to me instinctively, but at the same time, felt so fucking different I almost choked on that kiss. My hand cupped her cheek and drew her close, and my tongue darted out to open her mouth. She moaned into our kiss and clung to my face as if she’d wanted to do this since the day we’d met. I held both her cheeks and deepened our kiss, letting the strange, strange notion of my tongue dancing with another’s sink in. It was so fucking wet and intimate. I wanted to eat her.

“Tide,” I breathed, sinking my teeth into her lower lip and closing them until I heard the familiar whimper of joy. “You’re such a fucking tide.”

“Seahorse,” she retorted.

“I wish.”

“You are.”

“Maybe,” I said, sounding unsure for the first time in a long time.

“I’m not your tide, Trent.” Sorrow laced her words, and I knew she was right. She wanted my neck. Bad.

“No. You’re my Delilah, Edie, and I’m your Samson. You want to ruin me, destroy me, strip me of my power, and betray me. I should stay away from you, but I want you too fucking much. And when it’s all over, when all that’s left of us is sweaty flesh and shattered minds and torn hearts, you will remember me as the man who made you cry, and I’ll remember you as the girl I had to break to stay afloat.”

We stared at each other, almost smiling. What a fucking way to break my rules, with a girl who was both at my mercy and tasted of betrayal. Brushing my thumbs over her cheeks, I crashed my lips into hers, kissing her with abandon and passion and regret. I kissed her with everything I had that was worth taking. We nibbled and bit and made this kiss our fucking bitch, knowing there probably wouldn’t be another one. Doing what I’d been wanting to do since I’d seen her across Dean’s lawn standing next to her father, sneering at the world like she was ready to declare war on it.

I was opening up to someone who wasn’t my parents or my three friends, feeling the walls of something disastrous closing down on me.

Our lips were swollen and our eyes were hooded when we were caught, in the middle of the colorful playroom, propped against a plastic castle with a slide. The door swung open and Vicious leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, examining us with boredom. Knight and Vaughn were standing next to him, each of them hugging one of his thighs, watching us without really understanding what they were looking at. “You said you were careful. No chance at getting caught.” My friend threw my words back at me mockingly.

My urge to deny everything was crushed by the impulse to claim her. I dropped my hands from her face, but only so I could tilt my body toward his.

“You need to leave.”

“You need to come up with a good plan before her father kills you,” Vicious retorted calmly.

“What I need”—I looked down, trying not to curse in front of the kids—“is your cooperation. Before I snap.”

That made Vicious take a step back. Before he closed the door, I heard him say, “I think it’s time to make some popcorn, kids. These two are going to give us the best show this town has to offer.”

I LIKED ROSIE THE BEST.

They were all nice, but Rosie was the one who truly got me. She was wearing a Queens of the Stone Age shirt and ripped jeans, cradling her son, Lev, in her arms and nodding at me.

“Yup. That sounds like our Daria.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but hell, the kid is cruel. I’m not sure where to find an identical seahorse for Luna.” I plucked a grape from a fruit bowl in the middle of the table.

Rosie took a deep breath, her lungs straining for it, like her airway was blocked. After Vicious had caught Trent and me making out in his son’s playroom, he’d asked us to try not to hump each other on his property. Trent didn’t go down without a fight, telling Vicious everything there was to say with a look that could kill. We’d walked out of the room together. For a second, it looked like our hands were going to meet.