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It’s a toss up, but when you’ve been struggling for as long as I have, they become pretty interchangeable.

“Integrity and consistency. They can be swapped out, really.” I push some rice around my plate as I buy myself some time.

“I need to know that people have my back in rooms I’m not in.

But I also need them to be consistent. I need to know they won’t get tired or annoyed with me, and leave one day.

Decide I’m not worth the hassle, you know? ”

His hand lands softly on the back of my chair, and he pulls me closer to him.

“Abby, anyone who knows you. The real you, and decides you aren’t worth the hassle, is no loss to you.

” He tugs lightly on the end of my braid, his eyes boring into mine.

“You are my life’s greatest treasure. I don’t want to hide you from anyone.

You deserve to be loved out loud, in front of everyone.

” His thumb brushes lightly over my knuckles as he continues.

“I may not be perfect in letting you in, I may push when I should pull. But at the end of the day, I want you with me. I want to be yours, there would be no greater honor.”

I watch as he leans in, his lips pressing softly against mine. My eyes flutter closed after the shock of his statement wears off. “In cas e you didn’t understand, I’m saying I love you, and I want you to be mine,” he says against my lips.

Pretty sure I’m having a stroke, there’s no way he just told me he loves me, right?

“That’s exactly what I said.” He whispers before letting out a chuckle as my eyes widen at the realization that I said that out loud.

He gives me a chaste kiss before pulling back enough that he can gauge my reaction.

I don’t know what to say, this is not where I thought tonight would go.

I mean, honestly, I know I feel the same.

But, what if he goes to the store when we move in together, you know, eventually, and he gets that awful 3-in-1 concoction?

I need my lavender shampoo and mint conditioner.

I need them facing the exact same way every time I get in the shower, so I don’t have to mess with the spout on the pump.

What if he decides he wants a dog and gets something ridiculous like a poodle or some little rat dog?

What if he decides he wants to– “Abby.” My head snaps up, I hadn’t even realized I dropped my gaze to the floor.

My teeth bite into my lip a little too hard, and I hiss.

His thumb runs the length of them as he stares into the depths of my soul.

“Don’t overthink it. You don’t have to say it back until you mean it.

In fact, I’d prefer if you didn’t say anything you don’t mean.

” I nod softly, focusing on reigning my spiraling mind back in.

His hand rests on my thigh for the rest of dinner, it’s the only thing that keeps me from floating off into outer space. He loves me. Me. A broken mess of a woman, yet he sees me as someone worthy enough to love.

I knew this was coming. I noticed it in the subtle way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not looking. Or the way he memorizes my favorite snacks and always has them stocked at his house. In the way he lets his arm fall asleep every night, just so he doesn’t move me the tiniest bit away from him.

But knowing and being ready for it are two entirely different things.

Because this? This changes everything. I could pretend before.

Pretend it was the thin mountainous air, pretend we were just casual, hanging out somewhere between temporary and permanent.

Love demands something more. It means letting go.

I don’t know how to do that. Especially not when I’m still keeping something from him.

Not when I’m standing between him and a threat I don’t fully understand yet.

I can’t control what he feels, no matter how much the prospect of that terrifies me.

What terrifies me the most is that I love him, too.

I’d love to shove the feelings back in the box it dared come out of, but I know the truth.

It’s not something I can ignore forever.

But I can pretend while I figure out what to do with the situation at play.

I force a smile as we pay the bill. “Ready?” I ask.

He gives me a slight nod, If he’s looking for a sign of panic, he won’t find one. If there’s anything I can control right now, it’s making sure he doesn’t know just how badly I’d like to say that back.

A loud clap sounds before we hear, “Well, if it isn’t my favorite, we barely tolerate each other, friends.” Coasters are tossed onto the bar top as we slide into our seats .

Tate grunts, and I wave. “Hi Tristan, can I have a frozen margarita with salt, please?” He starts to walk away before I say, “Oh, wait! And a glass of Clase Azul, pretty please.” He chuckles as he grabs the blue and white bottle off the back of the shelf.

The Beach House is the one place I can always find this brand of tequila.

It’s so smooth that you can sip on it. Or take it as a shot because the dude you're dating in secret just told you he loved you while you’re keeping a secret from your other secret.

As soon as my glass is set in front of me, I swipe it off the bar and take a sip.

The low hum that comes from me has Tatum snapping his head in my direction.

“Those sounds are only for me,” he grinds into my ear.

I run my tongue across my bottom lip at a snail's pace, watching as he follows the movement.

I return my focus to the tequila. It’s warm, sweet, almost. Little hints of vanilla and caramel, its velvety texture acts like a hug for your tongue, with a tiny hit of cinnamon on the back end.

After it settles for a minute, you get a bit of that agave, honey with a touch of citrus.

Orange zest, maybe? Finally, you get that peppery kick that reminds you it’s still tequila, just the best kind.

I do the happy dance as I knock back the rest of it, not even caring to savor all of it.

That first sip was more than enough. “You alright?” Tristan asks as he sets my margarita in front of me.

I give him my sweetest smile. “I am!” I say with a little too much enthusiasm. “Just enjoying my night off,” I tell him as I lean into Tatum’s shoulder. “This one is being extra nice and took me for a ride on his motorcycle.” Tristan’s eyebrows shoot up at the same time Tate’s eyes narrow.

“Well, you must be pretty special then,” he says as his eyes dart between his former teammate and I.

I don’t know what to say , so I say nothing.

Just take the glass and take a huge sip through the straw.

He laughs as he walks away. I take the moment to look up at my date.

He’s already focused on me. The intensity of his stare makes me sit upright in my seat.

His arm comes around the back of my chair, leaning in to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Please don’t freak out over what I said,” he says as he drags his nose from my cheek to my ear, “I want to enjoy the time we have together, where it’s just us, before we let the rest of the world in.”

A hum leaves me as I set my cup down, intending to turn to face him so we can talk. The light of my phone catches our attention, he lifts it, quickly enters the code to unlock it, then freezes.

He’s off his chair in a flash, moving so quickly that it falls over, gathering attention from everyone in the general vicinity. “What?” I ask as I look around, trying to figure out what’s going on. “What happened?”

He doesn’t answer, just throws a hundred on the bar, grabs my hand, and pulls me out of the restaurant. He hands me my phone back as he starts the bike, leaving the screen open to the text that had come in.

It was a picture of us from behind, sitting at the bar where we were just moments ago. The text that accompanied it said, “ Times running out. Have you figured out what I’m after yet? Would it speed up the inevitable if Hannah found out two of her favorite people were keeping things from her? ”

The gruff “get on, Abby.” Has my feet moving before my head can catch up.

I hand him my phone, and he locks it in the compartment along with his as we take off.

He doesn’t go slow, no, he’s on a mission to get us as far away from here as quickly as pos sible.

Weaving through traffic, speeding through yellow lights, I can feel the rapid pace of his heart from where my cheek rests on his back.

I’m comfortable enough now to not hold on to him in a death grip, so I drop my hands to the top of his thighs, drawing circles over them with my fingers.

As we cross over the Cortez bridge, I switch my movement to the gentle opening and closing of my hands, dragging my nails over his jean clad legs.

I can’t offer him much right now, but I do what I can.

I didn’t see Nikki, but I’ll text Elliot and see if he can pull her phone to see if it pinged anywhere near where we were.

It’s unnerving knowing there’s something at play, but not knowing who's playing and what they’re playing for.