She opened the door quietly and peered out into the hall. The space was empty, but voices drifted up the stairs from the kitchen. Ryan’s, Kate’s, Kendrick’s, but no Mitch. Nerves humming, she moved quietly down the hall and stopped when she reached his bedroom door.

He could have left, but she doubted it. Ryan wouldn’t have let him leave knowing his life could be in danger. She lifted her hand to knock, then thought better of it. She didn’t want to give him any reason to tell her to get lost, and she didn’t need anyone downstairs knowing what she was about to do.

Her hand closed around the door handle, and she turned it. Quietly, she moved into his room and closed the door behind her.

The bedrooms were all similar, suites rather than simple guest rooms. Mitch’s room looked the same as hers but a little bigger—a king-size bed made of knotty pine, two matching nightstands and lamps, a dresser, and a flat-screen TV on the wall. But unlike her room, there was no half-packed suitcase, no clothes thrown across the bed, no sign he was planning to run. Like she was.

She closed the door at her back and looked around. The lights were off, only dwindling moonlight through the sliding glass doors that faced the lake illuminating the space. The bed was untouched, the room empty.

Her heart dropped, and she leaned back against the door, forcing back the defeat. He must have been downstairs after all. She could wait, but she didn’t know how long he’d be. And if he decided to leave before she had a chance to talk to him—

The sliding door across the room pulled open, and a burst of cool air whoosh in just before Mitch. Darkness and the hoodie over his head made it hard to see his face, but her breath caught when she saw the way his shoulders stiffened at the sight of her.

He tugged the hood of his sweatshirt off, turned and looked behind him, then pinned her with an irritated look, one she’d seen too many times over the last few days. “I think you have the wrong room.”

He was still pissed. And he had every right to be. But instead of running from it, she knew it was time to face the fire.

Hands shaking, she forced herself to step away from the door and move farther into the room. “I-I need to talk to you.”

“No, you don’t.” He shut the slider and crossed the room, heading for the closet on the far side. “We don’t have anything left to talk about.”

But they did. So much. She moved closer to the bed. “Mitch.” God, how did she start this? “I wasn’t honest with you. About…way too many things. I should have told you what was going on right from the start but I-I was scared. I thought that by not telling you, I was doing the right thing.”

He huffed from inside the walk-in closet. A thump echoed, followed by fabric rustling. “Sweetheart, you don’t know what the right thing is.”

No, she didn’t. He was right about that. But she knew this was better than what she’d done yesterday. And the day before that. “I never wanted to hurt you. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s the truth. I’ve lived under this shadow so long, I think I forgot how to open up and really let people in. You’re the only person I let get close, and it scared me because… Because part of me was afraid something like this would happen someday. I never wanted you to get sucked into this.”

She couldn’t see him, and she couldn’t hear him moving around in the closet anymore, but she needed him to come out and listen to her.

“Mitch.” She sighed, feeling lost, helpless…desperate. “I didn’t lie to you because I was trying to hurt you. I lied because I was trying to protect you.”

He emerged from the closet, barefoot, wearing only low slung faded denim jeans, dim light glinting off his muscular chest. But instead of the carefree, laid-back man she’d come to expect, this one was fire and malice and clearly didn’t want to have anything to do with her. “Why the hell do people think I need protecting? Do I have imbecile stamped on my forehead? I don’t need you or Ryan or anyone else looking out for me. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been getting along just fine by myself for thirty-six years.”

“I know you have. That’s not what I—”

“And I don’t need you coming in here telling me things that don’t even matter anymore.” He stalked by her, yanked open the dresser, and pulled out a gray T-shirt.

“But it does matter.” She tore her gaze from a body she knew almost as well as her own and stepped around the bed, blocking his path to the door, just in case that was where he was headed next. “I’m trying to tell you that I was wrong. I’m trying to tell you that I know I shouldn’t have lied to you yesterday or last week, or all those months we were together. But mostly I’m trying to tell you that…”

A lump formed in the middle of her throat, and she swallowed hard, her nerves suddenly jumping with what she was about to say. But it was time she got it out. Time she stopped hiding from it. “I’m trying to tell you that I love you. I was just too afraid before. Too afraid something bad was going to happen and that I was going to put you in danger somehow. But I was wrong. If I’d told you the truth sooner, maybe we could have avoided”—she lifted her hands and dropped them—“this. Maybe things would be different, now and you’d be somewhere safe, away from this entire mess.”

He stared at her in the dimly lit room, his eyes narrowed, his jaw hard. Moonlight cascaded over his chiseled shoulders, highlighting muscles and planes she’d touched and licked and kissed so many times she’d lost count. But he didn’t say anything. And in the silence, her nerves ticked up even more, because this wasn’t the reaction she’d hoped for. It wasn’t even one she’d anticipated.

“You love me,” he finally said in a low voice.

She swallowed again, because he wasn’t stepping toward her, wasn’t reaching for her, wasn’t even trying to bridge a gap hours ago he would have attempted to bridge. “Yes.”

“That’s rich, because you didn’t love me last night. You didn’t love me when I brought Shannon back to you, and you sure as hell didn’t love me when you came home from that trip to DC. In fact, I’m pretty sure your words were ‘I don’t love you.’ What we had wasn’t love, Simone; it was just good sex and nothing more.”

Panic pushed in. A panic that told her she wasn’t going to be able to make this right. She took another step toward him. “That’s not true. I’ve loved you for a long time. Ever since you stood in the middle of my bedroom and announced that you wanted to buy a stupid minivan. I just…I was afraid to tell you. But I was going to. I planned to tell you the night I came back from DC, but then I got that call from Will, and I…I freaked out. All I could think about was getting Shannon somewhere safe, and I knew if I filled you in on what was happening, you would have come with us. But I didn’t want you to do that. Don’t you get it? I didn’t want you to put your life in danger because of me. So I lied. I told you I didn’t care, and I knew as soon as I got the words out they were wrong, but you were so mad and you wouldn’t listen, and then all of this happened and—”

“Oh, so now it’s all my fault?” His eyes widened, and he pressed both hands against his bare chest, the shirt still clutched between his fingers. “That makes sense. Blame this all on me now.”

He had every right to be angry with her, but Simone’s own temper was inching up every second he wouldn’t listen. “I’m not trying to blame you, you jerk. I’m trying to talk some sense into you. You heard everything Ryan said down there. You know what kind of people are after me. I won’t be able to handle it if something happens to you because of me. I’m asking you—I’m begging you—just please disappear for a while, until I can figure out what it is they want. You don’t have to be a part of this anymore.”

Shock raced over his features. “You want me to run?”

“It’s not running. It’s being smart. It’s being safe.”

A defiant look filled his eyes. “I’m not tucking my tail and running like a coward.”

Like you.

She heard the words loud and clear. As loud as if he’d screamed them. Her blood ran cold, and what little hope she’d had of trying to talk some sense into him withered and died. But the anger—the resentment she’d lived with for far too long—was still there. Bubbling to the surface after everything she’d endured.

“You don’t have a clue what it means to live for someone else, Mitch. If you did, you’d know running doesn’t always mean you’re weak. And it doesn’t make you a coward when it’s protecting the people you love.”

She turned for the door. She was done trying to reason with him. Done feeling guilty. She couldn’t physically make him do something he didn’t want to do, and it hurt too much to sit back and watch him put his life on the line for something she could save him from. The only thing she had left to do was get to Shannon then, yes, run, at least until she could figure out what it was the Feds thought she had that was so important.

“News flash.” His hand slapped against the door, preventing her from escaping. “Running from the man you supposedly love doesn’t make you strong, Simone.” He grasped her upper arm and jerked her around to face him. “And yes, you are a coward because even though you’re standing here professing your so-called love for me, you’re still holding back.”

Her eyes widened. She yanked her arm from his grip. “Holding what back? I’ve told you everything.”

“You’ve told me what you think I want to hear. Not the truth. Not what’s really eating at you.”

Simone stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. “The fact I love you isn’t enough? The fact I still love you, even after you slept with someone else hours after we broke up, isn’t enough for you?”

“No, it’s not. If you really want me to disappear, then tell me the truth. All of it. Tell me what you’re really afraid of.”

“I already told you,” she sputtered.

She tried to move away, but he blocked her path. “Just say it. Say the real reason you’re always running from me, from us.”

“I’m not running. I…” She braced her palms against his chest and tried to push him away, but he was like a solid rock, immovable. He was too big. Too close. Her head felt light. Her pulse raced. Sweat slicked her skin but did nothing to cool her down.

“I don’t need this,” she fumbled. “I don’t need you trying to make me feel things I don’t want to feel. My life was just fine before I met you. It was structured and ordered and…and I never had to depend on anyone but me. Can’t you see what you’ve done? You’ve made my life messy. You’ve made me messy. I had everything under control until you came along, and now I’m a complete disaster. And I don’t like it. I can’t control it. I can’t control you, and I don’t want to need you, dammit. Every time I’ve ever needed someone, they haven’t been there for me, even you. So just…just back off already and stop…fucking…pushing me.”

She shoved hard, and he finally stumbled back a step. Chest heaving, she took several breaths in the hopes it would calm her raging temper.

Several seconds passed in silence. Then reality hit, followed by a tidal wave of embarrassment. Oh shit, had she really said all those things?

“I didn’t sleep with that girl.”

Simone’s heart stuttered. Unsure if she’d heard him right, she lifted her head, but instead of the fire she’d seen burning in his green eyes moments before, now they were smoky, focused, and just a little bit unsure. “You… What?”

“I didn’t sleep with her. I was going to. I was so pissed at you, I thought if I could fuck her, it would prove I was over you. But when it came down to it”—he clenched his jaw—“I sent her home.”

She had to be hearing things. The Mitch who’d just laid into her moments before couldn’t possibly be saying this to her now. “Wh-why?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

Apparently, she did. Her brain felt like it was short-circuiting. Somehow she’d gone from professing her love, to screaming at him, to confessing her biggest fear—one she hadn’t even known was at the root of everything. “Um, yeah. Right now I think I do.”

His eyes softened just a touch, just enough to tell her…he still felt something, even if it was only a fraction of what he used to feel for her. “Because she wasn’t you.”

The room spun. And the blood pumping in Simone’s veins turned to a roar in her ears. Her body moved on instinct, before her mind even cued in to where she was going. Her limbs felt like lead weights, but she closed the distance between them and reached for him, needing the connection, needing to touch him, needing…him. “Mitch…”