“Yes.” I made sure my voice was pointed and deliberate. I had to keep my footing. Saxon’s logic could get winding, and I didn’t need to get lost in it.

“You and I felt something for each other, didn’t we?” He pushed his food aside and looked hard at me. I felt that same can’t-put-my-finger-on-it something that I felt the minute I first saw him.

“You also felt something for Kelsie.” I tried to dismantle the whole thing as quickly as I could. It was too close, too confusing to talk about so openly. “You were going on a date with her.”

“One date, Brenna,” he protested, his voice a growl. “One innocent date, and God it pisses me off to even have to say that like you need some damn evidence. You and I could have had something that day, but you thought I was with someone else.” He rushed on before I could dive in and argue. “No. That’s not even accurate. You and I hadsomething together that day, and we still do. You and Jake are together over a technicality of time.”

“That’s not true.” I wrung my hands frantically and kept my voice hushed. I wished this conversation had never started because there was no escaping it. We were on a tiny plane high over the Atlantic. “I knew Jake was the one. I knew it from the minute I met him.”

Saxon’s face contorted a dozen different ways before he settled on a resigned grimace. “You knew the minute you met Jake that he was the safe one. He was the one who wouldn’t challenge you or test you.”

“That’s not true. Anyway, I don’t want to be challenged. I want to be loved,” I said unsteadily.

In the cool, dry air of that interior, Saxon leaned over until he was so close to my body we should have been touching, but we weren’t. There was a fractional amount of space between us, and he kept that separation with total concentration. “You deserve to be challenged andloved. I would do that for you. And then you could care about me.” His words were torn and harsh, pulled from somewhere deep and hurt.

Our lips were so close, they could have brushed. I thought about what it would have been like, to kiss him. To kiss Saxon’s mouth. I had done it before, months before, but since that first time, I had always stopped myself. Because of Jake.

Jake. I loved him. And I would never hurt him.

But something about Saxon tugged at me. I wanted to be closer to him, to know who he was under the faзade we both kept up. I wanted both of us to relax and let down our shields. I wanted to know who he really was, without all of the complications.

And I wanted to reach out and make whatever hurt disappear for him. I wanted to be whatever amazing, awesome healing power he imagined me to be. But I felt cornered and manipulated and confused, so I turned my head away. “I’m going to sleep, Saxon,” I said abruptly over my shoulder, forcing the whole taxing conversation to grind to a halt. “I don’t feel like talking about this anymore. Don’t bother me.”

I could feel his eyes on me, feel the tense clench of his muscles as he held himself so close to me but not as close as we both wanted, no matter how stupid it was to want it. He didn’t want this to end. He knew he had me thinking things, considering things, and he wanted to keep weaving his spell, but I couldn’t let him. He already sapped me of so much energy, and I’d only been near him for a few short hours. Finally, he pulled back and leaned in his seat, and after a long, long time, he fell asleep. I felt shaky and angry, but I was able to sleep, too.

Chapter Five

And then we woke up in France, and there was enough going on that I could keep my mind away from Saxon for a while. It was nice to have to worry about finding my bags, loading into a van with Mom and the other parents and kids, getting settled in the rooms they had us set up in. We were spread out in the city, but most of us were in dorm-type university rooms that the students weren’t in since it was winter break. There were lots of cool, bright common areas with little kitchenettes and sitting rooms, and small, single rooms set up with a narrow twin bed, a desk and a little closet. It would have been a little dreary, except for the fact that there was Paris, right outside my window.

And even though Jake and Saxon were still always warring somewhere in the back of my head, I got caught up in the reality of being there, in Paris. It was night when we landed, and everyone felt kind of jittery and chattery. A bunch of people wanted to go out and eat, but Mom had a really strict anti-jetlag system and she was sticking to it.

“You can go if you want, sweetie,” she said around a yawn. “Just stay close to the group.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’d rather get some rest and be ready for tomorrow.” I didn’t even acknowledge whether or not Saxon was going. My life was always simplest when I was far away from him, and that included his proximity to my head. Especially considering thoughts of kissing him flipped stubbornly through my head, no matter how hard I tried to push them away for the entire second half of our flight.

“This is going to be so fun,” Mom said, and I could hear that little twinge of weird guilt in her voice. I liked her mean and in-command best. I didn’t know how to handle my mom when she wasn’t being sure and controlling.

I just wanted to get away from all that was unknown and warped. I felt so off-balance it was making my stomach queasy. I squeezed her hand. “It already is, Mom. This is amazing. Once we sleep off this jetlag, this is going to be fantastic.” I gave a little fake yawn that turned into a real one just like I hoped it would.

Mom kissed me hard and went to her room.

Even though the rooms were only about seven feet wide and a little claustrophobic, they each had one huge window at their far end, and they were private. That made them perfect. I went to my bag and zipped it open, then pulled out my phone. It was still fully charged, and I knew that it had updated international. I hadn’t asked Mom and Thorsten if I could update it. I did it on my own, and hoped they wouldn’t mind the change in price, since it wasn’t much. In the end, I just needed to be able to contact Jake, and I didn’t want an argument or a lecture. And the time difference was enough that I would always be able to call him in as much privacy as there was available.

The phone rang a few times, and I had a sinking feeling that I had messed up and wouldn’t be able to talk to Jake at all while I was gone. Then I heard the connection click through.

“Brenna!” His voice rang out so good and happy it was like sinking into a hot bath; I relaxed instantly.

“Hey, Jake.” I took out my clothes and started hanging them on the hangers someone had (wonderfully) left in the closet. “It’s really good to hear your voice.”

“Same here.” I could hear yells and an engine in the background.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Leaving work. It was really cold here. How about there?”

“Not Jersey cold, but it’s chilly.” I didn’t really want to call Jake and talk about the weather. It aggravated me the same way Saxon’s intensely gripping talk had. I didn’t want too much, I didn’t want too little. I was unsatisfied, something that wasn’t very common or comfortable for me.

“I don’t want to talk about the weather with you,” he said, and I smiled sadly at his perfection as a boyfriend and my inability to appreciate him. “It’s a little weird for me that you’re in Paris, and I’m back here in Sussex County. I want you to do this…I just feel left out. I’m not whining,” he rushed to add.

“You are whining a little.” I plopped down on the thin mattress of the bed. “But I forgive you. I’m feeling a little whiny, too.”

“Is it jetlag?” His sympathy made me feel loved and safe.

And I realized that I had to tell him. I couldn’t spend nearly two weeks in Paris with his once-best-friend and now-arch-enemy without saying something about it. But I didn’t really want to. I rationalized that if Jake was in my situation, I would want to know. That didn’t really help. But I knew from experience with Jake that any lie I told or truth I withheld would just get bigger and bigger until it buried me under an avalanche of my own guilt.