“What I’m trying to say, Liv, is that you upended my life, and spun it one-eighty, and it’s the best damn thing that ever happened to me. It’s like being on the bike, roaring along, thinking it’s the best damn thing, and then you go over that hill or into that slide and you think, fuck, no, this is riding. With you? With all the crazy shit that comes with you? This is living. It slapped me awake and showed me what can be.” He paused. “Am I explaining that right?”

I kissed his nose. “You’re explaining it perfectly. I had it good in my old life, too. I really did. Moving along according to plan, content, even happy. Maybe a little dissatisfied now and then, but that seemed … immature. Selfish. I had it all. But then the worst thing that happened in my life? Finding out about my parents? It turned out to be the best thing, and I still feel bad saying that, because of everything that’s gone wrong for others, but for me …? I can’t imagine ever going back.”

“Me neither.” He moved his hands down to my hips. “I don’t want to ever go back, Liv. I said I love you, and I mean that. The thing that I’ve learned, though, is that when you love someone, you want the best for them. You want them to be happy, and yeah, that’s not selfless, either, because what’s the point of being with someone who isn’t happy?”

My breath caught, and I struggled to say, “Is something wrong? Have I done—?”

“No.” He reached up to kiss me. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. That’s why I started with the whole ‘I love you’ and ‘You changed my life’ and ‘I don’t want to lose you from my life’ parts.”

“Started …?”

“We need to step back, Liv. To where we began. Being friends.”

Now I couldn’t breathe. Really and truly couldn’t. Somehow, I heard myself saying, “You’re breaking up—”

“No. We’re stepping back. The two of us. Together. Because it’s the right thing to do. Because otherwise, the three of us don’t work.”

“Gabriel? No. If you think—”

“I think we need to find out. I think that’s going to loom over our heads until we do. Yeah, Gabriel isn’t like that kid in the vision. He’s not going to shoot me in the back. He’s not Gwynn, either. He’s not going to force you to choose. But that’s still there. Those parts are still there. Same as the part of me that looks at you and knows that I stole you away before he could get his shit in order. The Arawn part did that. And it’s true. When Gabriel told me he wasn’t interested in you, I knew that was bullshit, and I went for you anyway. The only reason I won you is because he wouldn’t step up. And now you’re never going to leave me for him, because what we have is good. Damned fucking amazing good, and you won’t give that up and hurt me and risk hurting yourself. So this is where I step back.”

I wanted to tell him he was wrong. I wanted him and only him, and there was no tension, no question, no anything else. But that wasn’t true, was it?

I looked out at the sun rising over the forest. “So, I guess … I guess you’ll want me to go home now. That was a goodbye night.”

“Or the start of a goodbye week.”

When I looked at him, he reached over and fished his phone from his pocket. He flipped to a screen and held up his list of top ten motorcycle trails.

“One more week?” he asked. “One more trip?” He caught my expression, and his gaze dropped. “Shit, I’m sorry. An amicable breakup is one thing, but I’m asking for the most fucking amicable one in history.” His fingers trembled slightly as he put the phone aside. “Sorry. Yeah, that was too much. I didn’t mean to …” He exhaled. “Sorry.”

At this moment, I wanted nothing more than to run. Get the hell out of here, find someplace quiet, and cry my eyes out.

He wanted to postpone our breakup for a week? Go on a trip and act as if nothing had happened? Hell, yes, that was asking for the most amicable breakup in history. It was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

I took a deep breath. A deep breath, and a long moment to think, just think.

Yes, he was asking for the most amicable breakup in history. But that’s what I owed Ricky. What I owed us. Because as much as this hurt—and it hurt so fucking much—if I said no and ran off, I’d regret it. I didn’t want to lose him from my life, and if that was possible, if we really could keep on being friends, this was how it started. By not running.

I reached for the phone, picked it up, and handed it back.

“Your turn this time,” I said. “Choose one.”