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And he carried her up the stairs, stripping her white dress off, and laid her down on the bed.

His movements were feverish and hot, like the kisses that he trailed down her body.

But she wasn’t going to let him have all the control. If this was goodbye, she was going to say it her way.

She stripped his shirt off, his pants. Licked her way down his sculpted chest, all the way down to his heart and arousal. She wrapped her hand around him and licked him, before taking him in deep.

She loved this.

Just like she loved all of him. She loved pleasuring him. Tasting him. She loved being his. And she would surrender to that tonight.

She loved the feel of him pushing his fingers through her hair, pulling hard, coming up against the edge of his control.

And when she found it, he moved her away, growling as he laid her down on the bed and pressed himself against her.

And then he entered her in one swift thrust, his movements broken. And he said her name, over and over again. Like a prayer. Like a spell. Like maybe there was enough magic between them to fix all of this brokenness.

Maybe. Just maybe.

And they found their release together, a thundering crescendo that made her want to weep. Because, in the end, she was bereft of him.

But she was too spent to move. And so was he. So they fell asleep, in his bed, not touching, with space between them. She woke up with a start at 2:00 a.m. And then she slowly climbed out from beneath the covers and grabbed her things, dressed and went out to her car.

And then she began to drive home, alone. With no idea of what the future would hold.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

WHEN LEVI WOKE UP, he was in bed naked. And Quinn was gone.

Quinn.

His heart throbbed.

It hurt so bad. It hurt to breathe.

She was gone. And the sun was beginning to push its way up behind the mountains, casting gray light on the land.

Quinn was gone. He had sent her away. She loved him, and he couldn’t... He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to love her back.

Because people died, and you couldn’t hold on to love forever. Because, in the end, loving someone too much could kill you.

He clutched his chest. He was close to it now. He was sure of it.

You didn’t get a chance to grieve.

Without thinking, he put his jeans on, didn’t bother with the shirt or anything else, and stumbled down the stairs, out the front door to his truck. He got behind the wheel and drove out toward his parents’ graves.

There they were. Silent and steady as ever. His touchstone, in so many ways, because he didn’t have their physical presence. He’d always felt like they could hear him, and maybe that was a lot of bullshit, but there was only so much harsh reality he could take. Only so much.

There they were. Next to each other. There they were, their names carved in stone. It was a testament. To their love.

He dropped to his knees there, right in front of their graves. A rock bit through the denim of his jeans, into his skin. He didn’t care.

And a rush of certainty so intense that it couldn’t be denied flooded him.

This was love.

And it was worth the pain.