“Just yes, no or kind of,” he said in a tone of voice that made me brace. “You okay?”

That was when I understood his grin that was small and the look in his eyes.

He was worried about me.

I stayed braced, this time against how nice it felt for my heart to trip over itself at the thought anyone could worry about me.

Especially Nick.

“Yes,” I answered. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, Shade,” he muttered, his hand gliding back, his fingers sifting into my hair. “But just to say, that could be a ‘no’ or ‘kind of’ and you don’t have to lay it on me as to why. I still can help make it better by fuckin’ you again. Or I could take you out so you can slam back as much melon crap and vodka as you can stomach and you got my promise I’ll get you home safe no matter how shitfaced you get. Or we can just zone out in front of my TV.”

I fought the desperate desire I suddenly had to know what programs Nick “zoned out” in front of at the same time I felt the intensely pleasant feeling it caused that he offered me anything to make things better if I wasn’t okay.

I succeeded in doing this and replied, “That’s appreciated.”

I felt his fingers curl in my hair as he slid them down and used the backs to stroke my neck through the tendrils.

And as he did this, his touch and the new look in his eye made me brace again.

“You got someone?” he asked quietly.

“I do believe we’ve had a discussion about exclus—” I started.

“Not someone to fuck,” he cut me off. “I know you got that, him bein’ me. Someone to work shit out with.”

That didn’t only make me brace; it made me tense from top to toe.

“Sebring—”

“You tight with your sister?”

“Of a sort,” I felt it safe to answer.

He read my answer for what it was. “So you’re not. Not for shit like that. Not for when you need someone.”

I forced my body to relax on top of his when I shared carefully, “You know that can’t be you.”

“I get that,” he returned instantly, now sounding disgruntled. “We know where we are. But you’re not tight with your sister, not that way. You’re not tight with your mom. I’m not askin’ for it to be me. What I’m askin’ is, is it someone for you?”

It wasn’t someone for me.

In trying to come up with a reply, I knew I accidentally gave one when his eyes narrowed on me and he bit out, “Fuck.”

“I’m fine,” I assured.

“Right,” he stated shortly, his unhappy expression uncharacteristically unhidden. “I’ll pretend ’cause we are what we are that doesn’t mean dick to me. Sayin’ that, it sucks knowin’ there isn’t anyone you got for you.”

My heart tripped again because that felt good too.

I had to put a stop to this.

“This is the part where it’s important we remember the limits of what we have,” I shared in a whisper to gentle my words but also to hide the pain his words caused because I liked them too much for safety.

“You look at me with that sweet, sad look in your eyes, Olivia, and you say those words to me…”

He shook his head and I thought, even hoped he was just going to let that hang.

But he kept talking.

“You fuck me like you can’t get enough of me and you give me you like you want me to drown in your pussy and then you tell yourself you believe that it stops there. You do that, I got no choice but to give that to you. But I can get what we are to each other and still give a shit about you. And that’s where I am right now, with that sweet, sad look in your eyes, lyin’ on top of me after just havin’ you. And that’s where I was with you two days ago with your mom shovelin’ shit you for some reason got no choice but to swallow. And even before, you tryin’ to hide your scar from me.”

Before I could break in to stop him, relentlessly he went on.

“And I’ll let you think you’re bullshitting me that I’m just cock to you when you didn’t hide your pain for me when you thought my dad was dead. You need that, I’ll let you have it because you give me no choice.”

“You telling me it’s bullshit isn’t exactly letting me have that, Sebring,” I pointed out when I had the chance to wedge words in, but I got no more out.

“Oh yeah,” he said like it was a continuation and I hadn’t even spoken, “and I’ll try to pretend you’re stone-cold Olivia Shade two seconds after you’ve been a smartass.”

Hesitantly, I shared, “I wasn’t being a smartass. I was simply pointing out an incongruity in your statement.”

He looked to the ceiling. “Christ, I’m tellin’ her if she needs me, I’m there however she needs that to be, and she’s spoutin’ words at me like ‘incongruity.’”

She needs me, I’m there…

I couldn’t focus on that.

Instead, even more hesitantly, I began to ask, “Do you not get that word or—?”

His eyes cut to me and his arm around me squeezed hard with annoyance. “Yes, I get that word.”

“Oh…kay.” The first syllable came out in a wheeze because he hadn’t yet loosened his hold.

He studied me.

Then he slid his arm up my back until his hand caught under my arm and he pulled me up his chest so we were eye to eye.