I sniffed. “We kissed and then I—I called him your name.”

His eyes widened. “Oh. That sucks…for him.”

I ignored that.

“He hates you, you know. And it makes me angry that I ...” I stopped, afraid of what might slip out.

He briefly shut his eyes. “If he loves you, he’ll get over it.”

But, why hadn’t Cuba loved me?

I nodded, changing gears. “Tell me something, is that someday here yet? The one where you explain why you mind-fucked me?”

“Dovey,” he said, and then his voice softened. “Please, I—I don’t know where to start with this, but I’m sorry for everything, especially the way we broke up. I know I destroyed any respect or love you had for me. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’d give anything if you’d forgive me.”

My breath caught at his next words.

“I—I’m trying to be a better person because anything is better than what I am. Your forgiveness would help.”

He was trying for Emma.

I wanted to scream again.

Instead, I waved my hands in the direction of where the barn was. “One winter day last year, I fell in love with you inside that barn. And I thought you loved me too—but you didn’t. Why did you lie to me and make me love you? What purpose did it serve? Was it just to get your rocks off? Did you sit up at night and laugh about the stupid girl from Ratcliffe who fell for your bullshit? What was it?” My voice teetered on breaking, and I yanked it back.

Silence from him as he got still, like a frozen winter god.

But I needed this. Because we’d never had this conversation, real closure.

“Don’t leave me hanging here, Cuba,” I said, shaking my head. “You’ve pretended like I didn’t exist for an entire year. Why? Just tell me the fucking truth.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets, his face completely blank, and I knew he’d shut down. I let out a jarring laugh. “Silence with you is never golden. I get it. The truth is too painful.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his head bowed. “I’m afraid that whatever I say will hurt you, and I’m sick of breaking your heart. You don’t deserve that. You need something good and sweet. I let you down last year, and I’d do it again. You need someone who’s not me.”

Not him? Would there ever be anyone else for me?

He rubbed his face with his hands. “Cara, my parents, and now you. I’ve hurt those who care about me the most.”

I glanced into the darkness, anywhere except at him.

“You’ll never forgive me,” he stated, sadness flickering over his face.

“I don’t know,” I said, and that was as much as I was willing to give right now. I pivoted from him, headed to my car.

“Wait,” he called out after me. “Where are you going? You know you can’t drive home in this right?”

“Getting a hotel room,” I lied. Ready to get away from him.

“Look, I have ten empty bedrooms.” He fell into step beside me.

“So?”

“So? I’m inviting you to stay at my house. I don’t want you on these roads, even to drive to a hotel. When I checked out your car, I noticed your tires were bald. What if you slipped off in a ditch?”

I hitched my bag up and kept on. “I have a cell phone. You drove here didn’t you? And why are you out this late?

He clammed up. “No reason.”

Oh, but there was, and it was probably Emma related.

“You play a deep game, Cuba.”

He grabbed my wrist, and we stopped in the snow. He drew me toward him, and without me even realizing it, I allowed it. Invisible wires connected us. Hadn’t they always? “You were never a game to me, do you understand. Not one time that we were together.”

Little puffs of smoke came out of his mouth, and as we stood nose to nose, the winter air between us mingled and it felt a lot like how our first kiss began that night at Vespucci’s. His gaze landed on my lips, and I felt them part, remembering the weight of his, remembering how perfect we’d been. His head came down closer, closer to me, as if he was going to…

No.

I pulled my wrist out of his clasp and put more space between us.

It was dangerous being near him.

Because I still wanted him. I still...

No, not going there. Because he’d hurt me, remember?

We continued our trek to my car, until finally its white-covered hood came into view.

Except there was one problem.

Cuba cursed. “Someone slashed your tires, Dovey.”

“Someday I’d tell her.”

–Cuba

WHO WOULD DO this to her car?

“Spider?” I bit out as I checked out the flattened tires.

“Never,” she said, worry on her face. “Maybe a prank or a mistake. I don’t know.”

I stood. “Come home with me. I’ll call the garage and have them take care of this.”

“I don’t really have a choice,” she grumbled, tossing her bag in the back of the Porsche as I opened the door for her.

We drove to my neighborhood at a slow crawl. She’d gotten quiet, and when I glanced over at her, she was out, her head propped up by the window.

I was glad I’d found her.

Anything could have happened to her out in the cold on dark streets.

And Spider? My mouth tightened at the thought of her and Spider kissing. But she’d called him by my name. And that thought completely messed with my head. One side of me wanted to take her home, tuck her in, and then head straight back over to Spider’s and beat the ever-loving-shit out of him. Number one for kicking her out, and number two for kissing her in the first place. Not that I had a claim on her. I know I didn’t.

And hadn’t they probably done a lot more than that together?

On the flip side of that, another part of me, one that I didn’t allow to come to the surface much, got a hot thrill at the thought of her saying my name when she kissed a guy.

Yeah. Made me hard and pissed off all at the same time.

Pulling up in the circular drive, I noticed the front lights were on, which meant Dad was home. I parked, and it took some balancing, but I swept Dovey up in my arms and carried her to the side door next to the kitchen. Dad flicked on the porch lights and met me there, dressed in his plaid robe, wearing his wire glasses and holding a book.