Jentry let his hands fall limply at his sides and lifted his head, but didn't turn to look at me. He let so many minutes pa.s.s without responding that I thought he wouldn't. I had started walking toward him when he finally spoke up.

His voice was strained with whatever was weighing on him. "I think you should stay with Declan."

"What?"

He sighed and slowly turned to face me, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. "I think you should stay with-"

"No, I heard what you said, I just can't believe that you said it, and don't understand why you did! What is going on with you lately? Why are you pushing me away after days of pulling me close? Do you know how confusing you are?"

He laughed, but there was no humor behind the sound. "I'm sure I can understand."

"That's it? Nothing else?" I asked when he didn't continue, my frustration and confusion apparent in my tone. "Why are you pushing me toward Declan suddenly? Even if you stopped wanting me, you know that I couldn't go back to a life with him. I told you what it was like for me before you ever entered my life again. I can't do that to him again. It wouldn't be fair!"

Jentry's face pinched as I spoke, as if he wanted to deny something, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Why'd you do it?" I gestured behind me to the shut door. "Why'd you buy the shelves? Why do you keep doing things like that and acting like you care, only to pull away and shut down on me?"

"I do care!" he shouted, and flung his arms in exasperation. "What I care most about in this world is you, Aurora, but I'm trying to protect you and everyone else I love! And protecting you means making sure you'll be okay, and Declan means you'll f.u.c.king be okay!"

I placed the tips of my fingers to my temple as I tried to understand his words, and a frustrated laugh burst from my chest. "Do you hear yourself? We agreed that it would be too hard to have a relationship that we had to hide from Declan and your entire family while Declan was in a coma, and recovering. But how could a world where we aren't together ever be okay?"

"They know, Aurora. My parents know about us. They were at the hospital; they heard us!"

My stomach felt as if it had fallen through the floor. The blood drained from my head, and I felt like I might faint. "What?"

"They know," he said calmly. "I tried to explain it, but they don't understand. They just-they don't get it. We ended the conversation with Mom saying they would more or less disown me if I did this to Declan."

I stumbled back until I hit the wall, and used it to help keep me upright. "What?"

"I've been driving around for the last hour thinking about what they said, and thinking about Dec. As much as I love them, that threat wouldn't keep me from you, because they are my family, and I know they'll always be there no matter what my mom said today. But I can still keep me from you."

I shook my head slowly. "I don't understand."

"As much as it kills me-and it f.u.c.king kills me, Aurora," he said through gritted teeth, "I know this is what's best for you. Declan can give you what you need. A life with a guy like me isn't what you deserve."

"Why?" I asked, sounding just as crushed as I felt. "You talk about yourself in this way that-Jentry, I don't understand. Help me understand you." I pushed from the wall and walked shakily toward him. "From that first night you told me that you shouldn't be allowed to stain my good. Do you know how many hours I have turned those words over in my mind, trying to figure out what you could have meant by them? And then to find I never even understood the depth of them until you came back into my life. But every time you say something about yourself, it destroys something inside me. You are breaking my heart! Why do you view yourself this way?"

As he had so many times before, his face morphed into a mask of practiced indifference.

"Why can't you tell me?"

"Why won't you drop it?" he asked quietly, and his eyes met mine before darting away.

"Because I am missing something crucial, and I know if I know this then I will finally understand so much about you that has confused me for so long. I need to understand, Jentry!"

"You know all you need to," he said. "Guys like me-"

"No, don't start that again! The worst part of all of it is that you believe what you're saying. What could have happened in your life to make you think that you don't deserve something good? What could have happened in your life to make you push me away like this when I can feel how much you need me?"

Jentry's eyes were looking past me, but I knew he wasn't seeing anything in that room. Whatever he was seeing haunted him.

"Because I see you, too, Jentry. I see what you refuse to," I continued, "and if I can't understand what you are trying to force me to see, then I can never show you how wrong you are. I can never begin to show you that your soul is-it's just-it's beautiful," I said exasperated, unable to find a better word.

He huffed through his nose, but didn't respond otherwise, and his body slowly stilled until he looked like he had been carved from stone, then finally murmured, "Jessica . . . I told you I didn't grow up with her."

I nodded, prompting him to continue.

"My biological father was abusive. There wasn't a time in my childhood that I remember the abuse starting; it had just always happened. My mother, Jess, me . . ." He trailed off. "He was uncontrollable when he was mad. Nothing stopped him until he felt like he'd had enough. My mother did drugs, and they made her crazy and paranoid. One day when Jessica and I were eight, we came home from school and our mother told Jessica that it was time; that they were finally leaving. I thought that meant me, too."

I covered my mouth when it fell open, already knowing what he was about to say. "Jentry," I mumbled into my hand.

His chest pitched from the force of his nearly silent, mocking laugh. "My mother screamed when I started following them. Just screamed as if I was hurting her. When she stopped, she asked why I thought she would try to save me when I would only turn into my father. 'It's inside you,' she'd said. 'You can't escape that evil. Any good you touch will be tarnished; you're just like him.'"

My mind raced and chest ached. I couldn't believe a mother could leave her child, let alone in a home with a man like that, and I couldn't believe that her words had stayed with Jentry all this time. "Jentry, she was on drugs; she didn't know what-"

"I'd already had anger problems, I believed her," he explained. "Kids made fun of Jess and me because we had bruises or the same clothes for a week at a time, and I would go off on them the way our father went off on us. I was the disturbed underprivileged kid. Hopeless. That's what one of my teachers called me. The night my mother and Jess left was-" Jentry stopped abruptly and shook his head. "I started locking myself in my bedroom at night. Shoving the dresser and everything I could in front of the door. When that didn't change things, I started hiding out in the library at school and sleeping in there just so I wouldn't have to face him. Declan found out a couple of weeks later what I'd been doing. Mom marched into the library that same afternoon with Dec trailing behind her, and dragged me out of there by my ear, demanding to know why I hadn't told someone." His mouth curved up into a fond smile, and I found mine doing the same. "She went to the police department that day after I was settled in at their house, and officially adopted me later that year. I still have his last name, but the Veils are my family."

I understood then-not Jentry or why he thought of himself in such a horrible way-but why he had been so surprised by my feud with Linda. She had saved Jentry, and she loved her family fiercely, just as they loved her. "And your biological parents?"

Jentry's eyes hardened again, and he shrugged. "Father might be out of jail by now, I don't know. According to Jessica, my mother is still alive somehow. Still on drugs. That's why Jessica is so psychotic; she grew up with only our mother and took on her personality. There's nothing wrong with Jess, but she's . . . Well, when my attempts to help her went bad time after time, I just learned that it was better to stay away from her. She's too unpredictable and toxic. She knows I want to help her; she knows she can come to me when she wants it, but she never wants it. She just wants money."

I nodded absentmindedly and placed my hand on his shaking arm. "Your life started off bad-extremely bad-but why would that determine what you do or do not deserve now, Jentry?" I asked hesitantly.

"My biological mother was-is . . . is crazy. What she said back then, it was just her paranoia. But that doesn't mean that it didn't scare me then, that it didn't make me vow to live a certain way. It also doesn't mean that I haven't learned that she was right."

I exhaled heavily. "She wasn't!"

"I told you I had anger problems before. Because of what she said, I swore to myself that I wouldn't turn into my father, that I wouldn't be a violent person. But it's there, deep down, always burning and building, just waiting to snap."

"Because you're afraid of it!"

"Ask Declan," he said uneasily, and his dark eyes met mine for a moment. "Ask him what it's like to watch me snap, because he is one of two people who have been on the wrong end of it."

His admission surprised me, and I wondered what they had been fighting over in the first place, but I let it go when he continued talking.

"I vowed to myself that I would protect people instead of hurt them. That's why I became a Marine. That's why I plan to go through the academy to be a police officer. But the smallest thing could still set me off. Do you know what it feels like to constantly have anger simmering in your veins?" he asked. "It's sickening, and it's dark. So, yes, my mother was crazy, but she was right. It wasn't until one night at a party with the most beautiful girl I have ever seen that I realized that, and finally understood what she meant. Because this anger inside? It's dark. And you, Aurora? You're good and you're light, and I knew that from the moment I saw you; just like I knew what would happen if I was allowed to touch you." Like he had that first night a year ago, he pressed his hand to my chest and whispered, "My dark would stain your good . . . but I couldn't walk away from you."

I placed my hand over his, and said, "You're more afraid of your anger than I ever could be, even knowing what I do now."

Jentry looked like he was going to disagree, so I pressed harder against his hand and spoke over him.

"Do you see me?"

His eyes searched mine. "I've always seen you."

I released his hand to place mine on his chest, and whispered, "Just as I have always seen you. Nothing about what you told me has changed anything."

The corners of his mouth lifted, then fell. "It doesn't matter, because we both know what happens from here."

"You want me with Declan to protect me from you." It wasn't a question. "All of this . . . all of this pushing me away has been you trying to protect me."

Everything I always felt from him swirled between us: love, need, pa.s.sion. And all of it he was trying to hinder. His face pinched like he was in pain before he admitted, "I can't ruin you, Aurora."

My eyes shut as a shaky breath forced from my lungs. The war my heart had been in since Jentry had stepped back into my life was coming to an end. I could feel it. My body, mind, heart, and soul were all so exhausted from fighting each other.

A few difficult words would lead me back to a certain future, one my entire being rebelled against, but one Jentry was set on me living.

A few easy words would send me to an unknown future. One I craved with every piece of me, and one that would undoubtedly be the biggest struggle of our lives.

"Don't move," I told him gently, and turned to make sure he was still standing there before walking out of his room and into the living room, where my craft projects were still laid out.

A lump formed in my throat as I walked over to what I needed, and knelt down on the floor.

My eyes followed what I was doing with rapt attention, as if I was afraid to miss a single second of the process in ending this final battle.

Futures are uncertain, unpredictable, like the inky water that had spilled across the pure, white paper. Nearly imperceptible ripples had moved and flowed until a unique stain formed. The ink was permanently, irrevocably embedded in the surface.

From that very first night, Jentry had been a tidal wave of ink branded into my soul, staining me with our complicated, devastating story.

And it was beautiful.

If only I could make him see it that way, too.

When I finished, I moved back through the apartment slowly as I let the weight of my choice wash through me, but I knew in my soul that this was right.

We had pushed and pushed-trying to force each other back or away for one reason or another. But even though futures were uncertain, I knew that a future without Jentry wasn't a future at all.

"Take your shirt off," I demanded as I rounded the corner into his room again. My voice was hoa.r.s.e with emotion, so there was no force behind my demand, but Jentry still shrugged out of his shirt.

His brow furrowed when his shirt fell to the floor and his dark eyes darted over my face quickly. "What-"

Before he could continue, I stepped up to him and pressed my right hand to his skin, transferring a layer of paint from my hand to his chest, just over his heart.

He tensed for a second before relaxing. His tone was a mixture of amus.e.m.e.nt and confusion when he asked, "What are you doing?"

"We're done. We're done pushing each other away, and you're done trying to get me to leave. You have to see that by now nothing you can say will make me go." I looked up into his eyes when I took my hand away, leaving a white handprint on his chest, and said, "Stain me, Jentry; I don't care. I'll do it right back."

The words were barely past my lips before his mouth was on mine. My hands slid from his shoulders up to his neck in a feeble attempt to hold on to him as he forced me back toward the bed.

Our movements were frenzied and uncoordinated as we hurried to remove our remaining clothes, all the while we fought for control of the kiss and to stay upright as we crawled onto the bed. But like our first night together, all time seemed to slow once the last piece of clothing had fallen to the floor.

We stayed kneeling on the bed, watching each other and refusing to let go of one another as our rough breaths filled the room.

What could have been seconds or minutes later, Jentry asked gruffly, "You understand what you're doing?"

I couldn't help a brief smile. "I've known from the beginning."

"Then you know what this means." He leaned forward to pa.s.s his lips across the base of my neck, and a small shudder moved through my body.

When I spoke, my words came out breathy and soft. "It means you'll stop trying to make me leave."

A laugh rumbled in his chest. "I swore if I ever got another chance, I would never let you go. We do this, I'm not letting you go for anything."

Another smile touched my face as my gaze darted over the white streaks of paint from his neck down to his torso. Lifting my hand, I pressed it to the original handprint. "You know, that sounds like another chance for me to leave," I whispered teasingly. "I'm not worried about my heart, Jentry. I gave it to you long ago and I've never regretted it. We do this, I'm showing you why you deserve everything."

He captured my mouth in an unhurried kiss as he wrapped me up in his arms and gently laid me on the bed, and my body tingled in antic.i.p.ation as he slowly moved to hover over me. Because every touch and movement and brush of his lips and stroke of his tongue against mine was soft, soft, soft . . . and I knew him.

I had always known him.

And I knew what came with his soft.

Our kiss never faltered as he settled his body between my legs, and I moaned into his mouth when he pressed his hard length against me. His hands ran down my body lightly, tenderly; every few inches his fingers tightened for a brief instant in a way that promised what was to come . . . that made me want to beg for it.

He spread my legs more, then wrapped his large hands around my hips and slowly, oh so slowly, tightened his grip as he pressed the tip of his length against my entrance.

My fingers curled against the comforter as I fought to keep my pleas silent, but his name flew from my lips when he pushed into me quickly, roughly.

His dark eyes held mine as he moved inside me, alternating between hard and fast pounding, and long, slow strokes. All of it made it hard to remember how to breathe and sent warm shivers down my spine.

I had fantasized about this man and this time with him for a year, and now that it was here, I was worried I would wake up.

But no matter if my eyes were opened or shut, all I saw and felt was Jentry and this moment. The way his breath felt against my skin, the way he felt moving inside me, the way his fingers felt gripping me-as if he was afraid to let go-the way his eyes pierced mine and demanded every unspoken word. All the soft with the hard. And all of it, everything, was perfect.

He released his firm hold on me and curled over my body; his hips slowed and movements became more controlled, but no less powerful. His hand slid tenderly across my skin to cradle my neck as the other clutched at the bed beside me.

His eyes searched my face as he lowered his mouth to mine. "Keeping you forever, Aurora." His lips brushed against mine once, twice . . . "Need you to f.u.c.king breathe."

I whimpered against him, against his kiss, and slid my hands around his head to feel his buzzed hair under my fingers when he deepened it.

If he only knew how much I needed him-but he was currently taking my breath away.

I broke from the kiss, but didn't move away. I pressed my forehead to his and held his stare as I fought to catch my breath . . . and prayed that this moment wouldn't end.

My body trembled and stomach tightened as each thrust brought me closer and closer to the edge. I was on fire, and soon it felt like we would both be consumed in the flames we had created.

Those dark, dark eyes burned with so much pa.s.sion when my mouth fell open with a soundless moan and my body shattered beneath him.

When my shaking calmed, he pressed a soft kiss under my jaw and whispered, "Beautiful," as his pace quickened again.

I wove my arms around his back, and held on to the man I loved as tightly as I could, and tried to memorize the feel of him beneath my fingertips. Tried to memorize the way the muscles in his back gently bunched and relaxed as he made me his, then tensed and shuddered when he found his release inside me.

Jentry hovered above me for several seconds then slowly lowering himself onto me, and something about the weight of his body made all of this real. Made it final. I knew later we would have to deal with all the difficulties again, but in that moment they didn't exist.

I trailed my fingers lazily over his shoulders and back, then up to his buzzed hair and back down again.

"I have waited so long for you and for this, Jentry Michaels."

He lifted his head so his dark, smiling eyes were piercing mine. "Would've waited forever."