He didn’t ask me what I was doing.

I didn’t ask him about Poppy.

I also didn’t ask if we could do the things we’d done in my room again, even though it was pretty much all I could think of, other than my Rosie project.

I could practically envision Daria hitting me with her straightener for spending time with him, for letting him into my panties while he had a girlfriend. Hell, I hadn’t even let him kiss me when he didn’t have one.

The one thing I did tell him, breaking the silence once, was that I was flying back to Boon at the end of the week.

“Bummer.” He burped, throwing an empty beer bottle through the window and watching as it dunked right into the front basket of my bike. He’d smirked to himself. “Have fun there with FUCKING JOSH.”

It was like we’d never shared that moment in my bed. That intimacy. I tried to remind myself what I’d been told about him by his own mother—what I knew about him firsthand: Knight didn’t show vulnerability. He was so deeply wounded by being constantly on the verge of being an orphan that he stuck his chin out and hid the pain.

When he felt threatened, he pushed people away. But he needed me.

“How long are you going to punish me, Knight?” My eyes blurred with the fresh tears that clung to my lower lashes. “How much longer are we going to dance this twisted tango?”

He bent his head down, plucking a fresh beer from the pack. He’d been drinking so much lately, I could hardly tell when he was sober.

“I don’t know, Moonshine.” He’d cracked the beer open, downing it in one chilling gulp. “I hope we find out soon.”

“Did Uncle Dean ever hurt you?” I asked Rosie the next day, furiously writing in my notebook.

She’d given me some great notes today, notes I was going to dig into later, notes that reminded me how deeply entwined my life was with Knight’s.

Rosie looked like I’d just asked her if the sun was hot.

She burst out laughing, not even bothering to hide her delight. I felt my cheeks heat, watching as she began to cough, a barking sound that made me wince.

She was loud, but I didn’t worry. Knight and Lev were never here when I stopped by. She wanted the project to be a secret, and I understood why. No son wanted to know his parent had lost hope she’d make it to celebrate his next birthday. No son deserved to know his mother was contemplating the eternal, dreadful question—how do you tell your children goodbye?

“Can you elaborate?” I blinked.

She sat back, blowing a lock of hair from her eyes. “Where do I begin? Oh, yes. Dean dated my sister, for one thing. And took her virginity.”

I gasped, which only made her laugh harder.

“Emilia’s?”

She nodded. “Bet you didn’t see that one coming, huh, kiddo?”

“But he loved you!” I frowned, my hands moving fast.

I was thoroughly outraged. I knew Uncle Dean and Aunt Emilia had been a thing for half a second in high school. I didn’t know they’d been so serious, or how Rosie got over it.

How would I react if Knight slept with Daria? I’d kill them both, that’s how, and Daria wasn’t even my sister. Yet, I’d kissed Vaughn. Hell, I’d kissed Daria, too. I was no less responsible for the pain distribution in my relationship with Knight than he was. My sins were just more…casual. Spontaneous. I hadn’t meant to hurt him, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t.

“Hmm… Let’s see. Then he spent the next decade or so—give or take—bedding anyone with a pulse, besides me, of course.” Rosie tapped her smiling lips. “Threesomes. He was big on threesomes. We were neighbors for a while, and he always had a few girls go up to his apartment. I’d meet them in the elevator, warn them off about his mysterious STD that turned groins green. He wasn’t impressed.” She snorted.

“How could you forgive him?” I signed.

I was half angry that she had, at this point. Who was I kidding? Maybe even fully. Dean Cole had done a ton of threesomes. I don’t know why it surprised me. He did have a wild streak about him. But he was so…so…in love with Rosie. From the moment he was born, it seemed.

“How could I not?” Now it was her turn to look angry. “You only get one life, Luna. One stab at this thing called happiness. Why deprive yourself of things you want just because they weren’t given to you the way you hoped for them to come? Life is like a book, a long chain of scenes threaded together by circumstances and fate. You never know how thick or thin your book is, so you better make the most out of every scene, enjoy each chapter.”

“But Uncle Dean…”

“Didn’t pay?” She arched an eyebrow, grinning. “Did he not, though? Didn’t he chase me around like a lovesick puppy? Get blackmailed by Uncle Vicious? Marry me, knowing I might not have children? Commit to me, knowing he would almost definitely outlive me? What about his sleepless nights for the past six years? The hospital visits? The emotional toll? The fact I am going to make our children orphans? Yeah.” She patted my hand, like I was a precious, naïve thing. “If you think you’ve found something good without anything bad in it, it just means you haven’t examined it close enough.”

When we’d finished, I rode to our treehouse with my head almost hitting the front basket. The weight of my decision slumped my posture. I wasn’t going to tiptoe around Knight’s intentions anymore. Rosie was right. Life was unbearably, excruciatingly short. I wanted to be with Knight. He needed to know that before I flew back to Boon. He needed to know that I loved him.

But also that I was done being the other woman.

I wanted to be the only woman.

Yes, I had slept with someone else while trying to move on with my life. But that had been my choice. Did I wish I had known the truth? Yes. Would knowing it have made me wait for Knight? Maybe. But I hadn’t done anything wrong, and he couldn’t keep holding a grudge like it was the end of a cliff he was dangling from. He had to let go. He had to. For our happiness.

I wanted to kiss him again. To open my legs for him—again. Let him lick and bite and taunt me. Let him punish me and cherish me. He was my everything. My only sin was fighting what we had because I’d thought I wasn’t worthy.

When I arrived at the treehouse, I dropped my backpack against the trunk and toed my Vans off. As I climbed up, I realized the light inside was on. Knight was here.

Chipped bark dug into my nails as I grasped the trunk hard, knocked back by the sight in front of me.

Knight.

Knight and Poppy.

He’d brought her here.

To our spot.

Not only had he brought her here, but they were both naked. Completely naked. He was lying on top of her, removing locks of hair from her neck, kissing it softly, his glorious, tan body enfolding hers. His triceps and broad back bulged with perfect muscles, and his tousled, brown hair fell across her face. She arched her back, her breasts full and lily white, meeting his pecs.

They looked like a beautiful dream and my own ugly nightmare. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. He was losing his virginity. To Poppy.

He was giving to her what he didn’t want to give to me.

He wasn’t done making me pay. At this moment, I wasn’t sure he ever would be.