Page 85 of Cross Ice

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. I knew the parking lot wasn’t… I made a choice, and I…”

“Don’t.” He held up a hand, not angry, just exhausted. “I kissed you back. Every time. I’m not putting this all on you.” He dropped his hand. “But I can’t talk about it right now.”

He was already out of bed, reaching for his clothes.

“Evan—”

“I need to go home.” The words came out flat. “I need my own space. I need to think.”

“Stay. We’ll figure it out together.”

“I can’t think here.” He pulled on his jeans and his shirt. “I’ll call you.”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes. I stood there—helpless, guilty, watching him gather his things.

“Call me,” I said. “Please. Don’t shut me out.”

He nodded but didn’t promise anything. And then he was gone, the front door closing quietly behind him. I was alone with seventeen missed calls and a phone that wouldn’t stop buzzing.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor.

He’d kissed me back. Every time, in that parking lot, he’d kissed me back—and I knew that, and it didn’t change anything. I was the one who’d stopped being careful. I was the one who’d decided the parking lot was private enough, who’d kissed him once and then again and then a third and fourth time because I’d wanted to and I’d stopped treating every public moment like a threat. Whatever share of this belonged to both of us, I’d been the one to start it.

Our quiet, private world was over. We were the ones who had ended it—but I’d handed us both the opportunity, and that was on me.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Evan

I woke up because Nico was too still. Not asleep—I could tell from his breathing. He was lying there, rigid, staring at his phone.

I opened my eyes. Gray light filtered through the blinds. Early—earlier than either of us needed to be awake.

His phone was in his hand, screen lit, and the color was gone from his face.

“Nico?”

I propped myself up on an elbow. “What’s wrong?”

He turned the phone toward me without a word.

A photo filled the screen.

Us. Last night. In the restaurant’s parking lot.

Kissing.

We were in the shadows, but the camera had found us anyway. Found me—hands fisted in his jacket, mouth on his, every careful wall I’d built made suddenly, completely irrelevant.

My stomach dropped through the floor.

“Oh God,” I whispered.

Nico scrolled down. There were more. Us walking to our cars, his arm around my waist. Casual, unguarded, the body language of two people who thought they were alone. Another kiss the shadows hadn’t hidden after all.

Comments already in the hundreds. Supportive ones, hateful ones, slurs and celebrations side by side. My eyes went straight to the worst of them.

“Where?” I managed.