“No really, who is Matt Terry?”

“He was this guy who pursued me freshman year at college. I was trying to give Matt a chance, desperate to move on from Reece, but all it took was one horrible kiss and I knew I couldn’t go through with it. I broke up with the poor guy before our first date.”

“Yikes. I’ve never heard this story.”

I shrug. “Nobody has. It was sort of one those blink-and-you-miss-it moments of my life.”

I take another sip of wine, then another, noticing Brandi’s silence is longer than usual. “You still there?”

“Lucy.”

I gesture impatiently with my glass even though she can’t see me. “Yeah?”

“You’ve never told anyone about Matt Terry?”

I scrunch my nose, wondering why we’re still talking about a poor kid I barely remember. “No, I don’t think so. I thought about telling my roommate, but I didn’t want to embarrass the poor guy. He was sweet. Not Matt’s fault I was still hung up on The Asshole. Let’s start calling Reece that now, ’kay?”

My sister refuses to play along with my game, her voice more urgent now. “Lucy, if you never told a soul about what happened with this Matt guy, how did Reece know?”

I open my mouth to respond, and then realize I don’t have an answer.

“This kiss, the bad one with Matt,” Brandi rushes on. “Where did it happen?”

“I don’t know, outside the library?” I think, trying to remember, my heart racing with something that feels important. “How would Reece have known about that?”

“He wouldn’t. Unless he saw it.”

“How would he see it, unless…”

My sister makes a triumphant whooping noise. “He did follow you. He came after you to win you back, saw you making out with another dude. It’s the only explanation. Like, literally the only one. Right?”

I want to tell her she’s wrong. But racking my brain, I realize she has to be right. The only other explanation is that he somehow connected with Matt, who’s the only other person who knows about the kiss. But that’s even more far-fetched.

But either way, it meant that Reece cared.

He came after me.

The thought warms me from the inside out, and my hand is shaking just a little as I put my glass on the coffee table.

“I’ve gotta go,” I tell Brandi.

“Why. Where are you going?”

“He came after me once,” I say, standing up, already moving toward my purse. “Time for me to go after him.”

Chapter 43

Reece

Okay, guys, I don’t mean to rush you here, but keep up, because sometimes a dude’s mind is super simple and works exactly like this.

It took me about five minutes after Lucy let me go the last time to know that I wanted her back.

It took me nine days to figure out how the fuck to do it.

You want a long drawn-out story of how I realized it? It was as simple as seeing that car’s fucking taillights drive away from me and realizing I wanted to die. Realizing that I’d risk all the world’s heartache, risk her leaving eventually, if it meant I’d get to hold her for just five minutes more.

I lift my hand to knock on Lucy’s door, then drop my arm again, wiping my damp palm against my jeans.

This plan didn’t seem nearly so terrifying when I talked it over with Craig.

Show up. Tell her how you feel. Hope like hell she feels the same way.

Easy.

And…I think I’m going to barf.

I take a deep breath and lift my hand again, refusing to let myself chicken out the way I’ve been doing for the past six years.

Lucy Hawkins was my girl. Now she’s my woman. And I’m her man.

She’d better start getting used to the idea.

The door opens before my knuckles can make contact, and I have only a second to register movement before her small body hurls into my chest.

“Oh,” she says on an exhale, taking a quick step back. “I’m so sorr— Reece?”

For a moment, I can only stare. She’s so…Lucy. Tight-fitting black shirt, white skirt, flip-flops, hair in a messy knot on top of her head.

She’s beautiful. So damn beautiful I can’t breathe.

“Hi.”

She blinks, then her eyebrows go up at the exact moment she plants a hand on her hip. “Hi?”

I swallow. Shit. Craig said it would get easier once I got started. Fucking liar.

I swallow again and fist my hands to keep from pulling her toward me, resisting the urge to tell her how I feel with a kiss instead of words.

She deserves the words. She deserves all of it.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

“Um.”

For the first time, I realize that she seems a little off. Her surprise at seeing me has faded, but there’s still something a little wild and desperate in her eyes.

It’s an expression I’ve learned well over the past week from seeing it in my own mirror.

“Please,” I say quietly. “I have things I need to say to you.”

She steps to the side so I can come in, shutting the door behind me.

I look her over more closely now, noticing the purse in her hand. “You were headed out.”

She nods and doesn’t meet my eyes, and for a heart-stopping moment, I wonder if she was headed out on a date.

Not so long ago, the thought would have made me run for the hills, wanting to bury my head in the sand before the bulk of the pain hit me.