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“Please, Skye, say something.”

I’m not the same person I was before I met Logan or the same person I was before he broke up with me or got shot. All these versions of me broke away with each strike and revealed a new me, tender and tentative, but lighter, more self-assured.

I had so many fears, imagined and real. So many things that held me back. I was comfortable in my complacency. Safe in the small space I created for myself.

Until I wasn’t.

Until I no longer felt comfortable or safe and was forced to step out.

Funny thing about stepping from under the protection of living in fear—once I got out from under fear’s cover, I found that the confidence I never thought I had was right outside of it. I learned a lot about myself in the weeks since what I callThe Bruno Incidentand Logan’s shooting. Once all the things I feared most happened, there was nothing else to be afraid of. I wore my fear like a shield. River wears snark and sarcasm. Logan hides behind control. We all wear shields. Some of us are just better at it than others and choose shields that go unnoticed until something cracks them. And then we’re left to decide.

Mend the shield or throw it away? Mine was shredded to pieces. I had no choice but to face life and myself without its protection, and once I did, I liked what I saw. I’m not perfect. The urge to retreat, to build a new shield, is there. But I’m working on it, fighting it instead of fighting myself and learning to see my own beauty and worth and value it. I am me and no one else. There’s no one outside of me I can compare to,not even my sister.I can only compare the today version of me to the yesterday version of me and work to make it better.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?” His lips are so close to mine, I can taste him in my inhale.

“I’m a work in progress too.”

“Maybe we can be a work in progress together.”

“I’d like that.”

His hand cups my face and his fingers tremble against my skin.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“I love you, Logan.” My lips graze his.

“I know.”

Chapter Sixty-Three

I can’t helpthe huge smile on my face or the tears that spill over without permission.

I’m not a crier. I hate crying or getting all sappy.

Yes, I’m spying on my sister and Logan. I’m making sure I don’t have to step in and kick his ass.

I’m not close enough to hear anything they’re saying, but I have a great view of them from Skye’s bedroom window.

I don’t need super-hearing abilities to tell they’re making amends and promises to each other. I can see it in their faces through the bare branches of the willow tree. Had this been any other time of the year, they would have been hidden by the leaves. So I take it as an invitation to watch. If the universe didn’t want me to be a witness, it would not have placed that tree right outside the window and it wouldn’t have been winter.

I love the way they hold each other and kiss with such urgency.

Oh.

Okay, then.

Time to stop watching.

It looks like Skye’s fantasy of making love under her willow tree is about to come true.

All right, moving on.

I step away from the window with one last glance before going to my own room across the hall.

My heart aches, both with happiness for Skye and Logan and with dread for myself.