"Your uncle and dad punched you?" He just shrugs as a response, causing my heart to split in two. I don't understand how an adult can raise a hand to a child. It makes no sense to me. Is that why he is often so distant, aggressive?

Cupping his face, I gently kiss his lips. "I'm so sorry you had to endure that."

"Like I said, my life has been a struggle. I'm used to it. No use in fretting over it." Before I can say another word, he flips me over in bed, pinning me to the mattress. "Now, enough of this sad shit, I can't wait to taste you again."

"Again?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yeah, Snowflake. You're not a one-and-done girl. You're the forever kind."

Smiling down at me, I take everything in about this man. He's so genuine, so honest, the perfect combination of sweet and masculine. Joining Dear Life has been one of the best decisions I've ever made. I feel as though the blinders have been removed and I can see more shape to the future of my life. I now have a sister I adore, have made new friends, and of course, right now, in Carter's arms, I feel alive. Never saw that coming. Never saw him coming. He wasn't what my mind had conjured up as the perfect man for me, yet we seem to . . . fit.

Day by day, the little steps I make toward being that woman in the mirror, it's all about proving my existence, one small gesture at a time.

CARTER.

Standing in my boxer briefs, flipping my signature French toast, I think about last night. Hell, I'll be thinking about last night for a damn long time.

Daisy was everything.

Innocent, yet invested. Pure, yet sinful. Shy, yet explorative.

The way her hands moved across my muscles, it was sensual as hell, her fingertips not quite sure what to do, but her lust egging her on.

Then there was the look in her eyes, the pout to her lips, the way her hair fanned out against my pillow. Fucking hell, so damn beautiful.

It was hard to keep my hands to myself, to give her a break knowing she was going to be really sore, but I wanted her over and over again. By letting me inside her, she claimed me. I was a goner. I'm still a goner.

Looking at my bed, I love my view: her naked body spread across the mattress, the sheets covering just enough to have me wanting to rip that damn fabric away, and her little feet poking out the bottom. God, I want to wake her up. I want to dive in between her legs and wake her up in the best way possible, with my tongue to her amazingly sweet pussy.

Talk about a heavy craving. Hell, I fucked her with my tongue three times last night because I couldn't keep away. And then there was her "blow job" which consisted of her kissing the tip of my dick because she was scared of "getting shot in the eye" and moving her hand up and down my length so loosely that it was more of a tease than anything. After five minutes of her featherlight touches and dick-hole kissing, I took her hand, gripped my cock hard, and showed her how to do it. She was scared to hurt me after our first encounter where she thought my dick was a dangling doo-dad she could grab with a death grip. I can understand the hesitation, so I showed her the proper pressure and grip to apply, and once she got the hang of it, sweet Jesus, I came hard. She was so determined, so set on getting me off, and her persistence paid off. As for when I came, she squealed so damn loud, my neighbors most likely heard her. Her reasoning, she never thought it could "spray like that." Not going to lie, her little handy got me some record height.

What it boils down to is her innocence. It turns me on so damn much. It's one of my favorite things about her.

A few feet away, rustling fabric draws my attention. Peeking past the bundled-up sheets, Daisy looks out into the open space of the apartment, her hair mussed from last night and early this morning.

"What smells good?" she croaks out in a sexy morning voice.

"French toast. You interested?"

Like a bolt of lightning, she sits up in bed, the sheets pooling at her waist, giving me a monumental view that will have me hard all damn morning. Her arms above her head, she stretches from side to side, enjoying the morning sun.

I turn away because if I don't, the French toast will burn, breakfast will be ruined, and I never ruin a meal. A quick glance in Daisy's direction has me reconsidering, but before I can make a move, she's putting on my shirt from last night and pushing up the sleeves that ride long on her arms.

When she steps out of bed, I'm awarded with the vision of the hem of my shirt hitting her on the upper side of her thighs. Waves of blonde float around her with each step in my direction. So beautiful, it hurts.

She pads her way toward me, a little sway to her hips. "You're staring."

Giving her a once-over, I nod and then turn back to the French toast. "Hard not to where you're concerned." I pat the counter next to the stove. "Have a seat, beautiful. Keep me company while I finish making breakfast."

She hops up and then squeals. "The counter is cold."

"That will happen to you when you're prancing around like some sexed-up hussy."

"Hey," she playfully slaps my bare arm, "I'm not a sexed-up hussy. You're naked too."

I glance down at my boxer-clad crotch and quirk my lips to the side. "Sorry. I'm not naked, and neither are you, but I can make us naked if that's what you want."

"No way. I'm too sore."

Sore? Shit.

Turning the burner down, I position myself between Daisy's legs and put my hands on her thighs, gently rubbing them up and down. "Did I hurt you last night, Daisy?"

"Oh, no. I didn't mean it like that." She smiles bashfully. "I mean sore as in I've never had foreign objects inside me like that before."

"My dick is not a foreign object." I chuckle.

"It is to my vagina," she says.

"From the way you moaned last night, I would say your vagina doesn't consider my dick a foreign object anymore."

Her hands go to her cheeks, her face reddening. Whispering, she asks, "Did I really moan?"

I lean in and match her whisper. "You really did, and it was sexy as fuck."

Relieved, she drapes her hands over my shoulders and clasps them around my neck, her legs circling my waist as well. I'm surrounded by her body, her scent, her purity. It takes my breath away, that this woman with so much potential-a world of possibilities ahead of her-wants to be with me.

Needing to feel her skin, I slip my hands under her shirt and roam them up her stomach and until my fingers skim her breasts. My mouth goes to her neck where I press long, languid kisses along her skin, loving the way I can smell myself on her as well.

"I can't get enough-"

My words are cut off by the jingle of keys in my front door and the presence of someone right outside the apartment. What the fuck?

I turn my head just in time to see Sasha walk through, suitcase in hand, long dark hair tied in a knot on top of her head, skinny jeans eating up her long legs, and her classic white T-shirt hanging low to show off her perfectly set cleavage.

What the hell is she doing here?

"Oh?" Taking in the scene in front of her, her cheeks start to blush. "I'm sorry. I didn't know I would be interrupting something."

"What the hell are you doing here, Sasha?" I ask. I notice Daisy go rigid in my arms.

"I . . ." She looks around, her hands fidgeting in front of her. This is not the Sasha I know. She was confident, sure of herself, would never fidget like she is right now. "I, um, came back."

Shielding Daisy now, I ask, "Why would I want you to come back here?"

Pulling an envelope from her back pocket, she walks it over to the kitchen island where I get a better view of her. She's not wearing a lot of makeup, so judging by the absence of dark circles under her eyes, she's finally started sleeping again.

"Here." She places the envelope on the counter, eyeing my chest for a brief second. "Here's your money along with the rent for the months I was gone."

Is she fucking serious right now? I'm not sure what I should be feeling. I never wanted to see her again, but I can't deny that the menacing dark cloud of pessimism-that's hovered over me ever since she left-is parting and I feel a small ray of hope.

I open the envelope and there is a lot of cash inside. I don't bother counting it, as I somehow know it's there.

"Is this a joke?" I ask. Her hands rest in her back pockets, her breasts sticking out even farther from her stance. From behind me, I hear Daisy hop down from the counter and walk toward the bedroom, hopefully giving me a little privacy with Sasha, so I don't have to explain all this shit to her.

She shakes her head. "It's not a joke. The money is yours. I told you I was hoping I could pay you back one day. I just wasn't expecting it to be this soon." Looking over my shoulder, she eyes Daisy, who's shuffling around the room. "I came back, Carter, because I never stopped loving you." What the hell?

She's kind of blowing up my mind right now. Completely out of it, I remove the French toast from the stove so I don't burn down the apartment while I try to wrap my head around what's going on.

First things first. "Why did you take the money, Sasha?"

Leaning against the counter, her eyes cast down. "My dad needed it. He got into trouble with some pretty bad people, and they were going to take everything from him if he didn't pay up. He was short ten thousand dollars, and he had to pay up the day I left. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you trying to help. I was afraid if your name was mentioned, they would hurt you too. I couldn't bear that, so I kept my note plain, evasive, and left. My dad was able to get the money back quickly by selling some tied-up stock that became available. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I was so scared. My dad was already at risk, I didn't want you to be at risk too." Moving forward, she places her hand on my chest, those dark green eyes peering up at me. "I love you, Carter. I'm sorry I couldn't say it before, but I'm saying it now."

Those three words. Never once have they ever been uttered to me. Not from my parents, my uncle, or a girlfriend. But from Sasha, they flow freely and for some reason, it feels bittersweet. Unwanted.

My attention is pulled away from Sasha when I see movement by the door. The flash of blonde hair escaping the apartment.

Daisy.

Fuck! Daisy.

How could I forget Daisy was here? Scooting by Sasha, in my boxer briefs, I take off toward the door, and down my apartment stairs as I chase after her. She's moving fast but I'm able to catch her before she exits the building. Thankfully, for my barely covered body.

"Daisy, where are you going?" I catch her by the arm, halting her in her tracks. When I turn her to face me, the tears falling down her face hit me like a ton of bricks. I can't stand to see those beautiful eyes clouded.

"Let me go, Carter."

"No. We haven't had breakfast." We haven't had breakfast? That's the best you got? I blame it on being shucked sideways by Sasha.

With her delicate, little fingers, she wipes away her tears, and when she attempts to put on a brave face, my heart starts hammering in my chest. "I'm not going back up there to eat breakfast with you."

"Daisy-"

"No, Carter. I don't compare. I don't even have a chance, and I'm not going to pretend that I do. She's everything I'm not, and you have history, history that has developed a love between you two. I'm not about to step in between that. And even if I did try to step in," she hiccups, "I would never win against her."

"It's not a competition, Daisy." It's no competition, because Daisy has become my everything.

She shakes her head. "No, it isn't, because I'm not in the running."

She turns to walk away again but I stop her. "Don't walk away from me; this isn't over, Daisy."

"It was the minute she walked back into your life. I'm not stupid, Carter. I saw the way you looked at her, the way your eyes lit up when she touched you. There is something between you two, and I'm not going to sit around and watch you figure it out." She pulls on the strands of her hair and looks up at the ceiling while tears fall down her face. "Ugh, I should never have gotten involved with you."

I'm able to take everything she says until that. I don't agree, but I can take it. But saying she should never have gotten involved with me? That's a fucking blow to my gut. I had thought that too, but now I desperately want her to not believe that. I want her to be mine.

"I took an opportunity because I met a boy I couldn't keep my eyes off." She shakes her head in disbelief. "And look at me, wearing yesterday's clothing, hair matted, holding my shoes in my hand, and watching my boyfriend reconnect with his old girlfriend." Pausing, she sifts angrily through her thick, blonde hair. "Was it even real, Carter? Was any of it real? Or were you just using me like your uncle said?"

Is she fucking kidding me? Was it real? I've never felt more damn alive than when she's in my arms. Everything about our entire relationship has been real. How can she not see that?

Maybe because I'm the dickhead, with a girl waiting upstairs and a tied-up tongue.

She nods, her lips pressed tightly together. "That's what I thought." What? No. "See you later, Carter."

"Daisy."

"No," she shouts, her word coming out as a sob. "I'm feeling broken, Carter. I had just started accepting myself, trying to believe I was the woman you saw. Someone acceptable. With potential. Now I just feel stupid. I gave my heart away too soon, only to be sucker-punched." More tears, each drop causing a crack in my heart. "And last night, gosh, last night was just . . ." She pauses. "It was so real for me, Carter. It was so real that I thought maybe, just maybe, you were the man I was supposed to be with." She emits a small, sad laugh. "I guess you live and you learn." Sniffing, she tightens her hold on her items and turns toward the door, looking over her shoulder, she says, "It was so real to me, I'm just sorry it wasn't for you."

As if I'm set in stone, I stand in place, watching her retreating back slowly drift away and yet, I can't move. Why am I not moving? Why am I not stopping her? Why am I not shouting at the top of my lungs that it was so fucking real for me too?

Because for the first time in my life, I'm terrified. The most pure and authentic beauty I've ever come across gave me her heart and I just annihilated it. I hadn't meant to. I'd been blindsided.

Facing my fears.

I thought my fear was never making something of myself, when in fact, my actual fear is learning to let love in.

And the love I wanted just left the building.

JACE.

"As we come to the end of our program in the next few weeks, I really want you to reflect on your accomplishments, on the thoughts and feelings you've experienced, testing new waters and exploring new realms of your normal routine. Did you learn something about yourself you never knew? Did you find strength within your body you didn't know existed? Did your soul connect with another's in a way you weren't expecting? Reflect. Today, you shall do nothing but reflect and evaluate your progress." Marleen sits on her desk like always and looks out over the room. "These last few weeks should have tested your limits, they should have helped you grieve, and they should have helped you grow. Even at your own pace, you should be feeling a difference in your everyday approach to life. Take that in, observe and evaluate, because the next task you'll face is acceptance. What do I mean by that?"

A few people raise their hands, but she motions them to go down.

"I don't want you to answer, I want you to think about it. What is acceptance to you?"

I hate questions like that. What is acceptance? Well, according to Webster's Dictionary . . .

Honestly, what are we supposed to say?

"I see a lot of blank stares. Let me guide you." Marleen stands and circles the room as she continues. "As a group, we've woven through this program taking on tasks and trying to make the most of them, ticking off the checklist, waiting for the next challenge. But have any of you sat back and really assessed where you've come from, how far you've traveled down this new journey, the new depths you've reached? I'm sure some of you have, but I would guess eighty percent of you haven't. And that's okay, you've been caught up in the moment, but now we must slow down."

Thankfully, in the corner of my view on the iPad, I can see Hollyn. She's wearing yoga pants and a tight-fitting, long-sleeve T-shirt. All I want to do is jump through the screen, scoop her up, and cuddle the fuck out of her. I hate that I'm so far away right now. Once again, everything is out of my control.

"I want you to reflect on who you were before you came to the program and who you are now. It's time to accept the past, what it's brought you, the lessons you've learned, and start accepting the new you."

Breaking into our groups, we section off, and it's the first time I notice Carter isn't sitting next to Daisy. And Daisy, I've never seen her looking so dejected. What the hell did that asshole do?

"Where's Carter?" I ask.

Daisy looks down at her feet, so Hollyn answers. "Not sure. He didn't show up tonight."

"Daisy." I don't continue until she looks in my direction. Once I have her eyes, I say, "Are you okay?"

A trembling lip meets my question as she shakes her head, no. Shit.

"What's going on?"

Hollyn answers for her. "Uh, Carter's ex came back into town. It wasn't a very good encounter for Daisy."