My relationship with Sylas has been the same way. We both broke the other one’s trust and we’re still working on getting to a place of security again.

He reaches out and I let him take my hands.

“I promise you, Saige Juliette.” After giving my hands a squeeze, he turns around and leaves. I hear him run into Sylas and Lizzy in the hallway. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but a few minutes later Sylas and Lizzy come back. Lizzy’s mouth is red and there’s also a spot on her shirt. She’s holding something out to me.

“I brought you a popsicle,” she says. I blink a few times and it takes me a second to process her words. I look down at the object and take it from her. It’s cold.

“She wanted to bring you one,” Sylas says in explanation.

“Thank you,” I say, removing the wrapper from the half-melted popsicle. It’s red, the same flavor Lizzy had. I lick it and it makes my teeth hurt. Lizzy hops back on the bed and Sylas gets a movie going for her before jerking his head in direction of the bathroom. I follow him, the popsicle dripping onto my hand and running down my arm.

Sylas closes the door of the bathroom behind us.

“How did it go?” he asks as I toss the popsicle in the sink. I’ll clean up the evidence that I didn’t eat it so Lizzy doesn’t know.

“I’m sure you already know because you talked to him,” I say, fixing him with a level stare. He doesn’t even try to deny it.

“Yes, I did talk to him. He called me and said he wanted to work things out. That we could put the past behind us and move forward. He said he wanted to have a good relationship with me, with you and eventually with Lizzy. He claimed he was just desperate to get to know her and scared of losing her.” His voice is level and even, showing no emotion, no indication of how he feels.

“And you believe him?” I ask. A sigh comes from his mouth and he pulls me into a hug, as if he needs to anchor himself to something. Me.

“I don’t know, Saige.”

He starts rocking me back and forth and I find comfort in him. In the way he holds me. In the way his body molds to mine. In the way our breath matches.

“I don’t know either. I want to believe him. He promised. He’s never broken a promise to me that he made as my father. Ever.” I hear Lizzy cackling in the next room. I almost envy her. She doesn’t have to worry about any of this.

We’re interrupted by a knock at the door.

“What are you doing in there?” Lizzy whines. Sylas and I freeze, as if we’ve been caught doing something wrong. It breaks the tension of the moment and we both laugh softly.

“We’ll be right out, Lizzy,” Sylas says, letting go of me.

“What now?” I ask. He shrugs and opens the door.

“We keep moving forward. No going back now.”

He has a point. There is no going back. I don’t completely trust any of this, but there’s not a whole lot I can do except stay on my toes and keep my eyes open. At least I have Sylas to help me. We’re completely on the same page now.

We watch some more movies with Lizzy and then it’s time for her to go to dinner and time for Sylas and me to leave. I expect Dad to call me and reiterate everything, but he doesn’t. He’s leaving me alone to think everything over. I’m not even going to start that process until tomorrow.

“Do you mind if we stop at my place and get some stuff? I don’t know why I’ve been hesitant to completely move all of my things to your place,” he says.

“It’s partially my fault,” I say, rolling down the window. It’s hot today. Summer is definitely here now. I’ve got a few weeks off before I start my summer classes. In past years I’d spend that time going to the beach, shopping with Lo and generally frittering my time away.

This year I have Sylas and I’m looking forward to entire days spent in bed with not a stitch of clothing on either of us.

“I should have asked,” he says. We’re both to blame for not talking about moving in.

When we get to his place, he asks me if I’ll come up and help him. I agree and we walk into his place. It always shocks me when I come here because it’s not the place I thought he would live.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, going to the bedroom. I stand awkwardly in the shabby kitchen. This apartment looks abandoned. There are no knickknacks left out, no boxes of cereal, no coffee cups in the sink. It’s an anonymous place. Depressing, if I’m being honest. I walk into the living room and look at the coffee table. Yes, it’s definitely been in a fire. I rub my hand along one corner and my skin comes back stained with black dust.

“What are you doing?” Sylas says and I whirl around so fast, I smash my hip into the couch.

“Nothing,” I say. “I was just looking at your coffee table. If you want, we can bring it to my place. I have another spot I can put the one I have,” I say. He’s giving me a strange look as he holds a few photo albums in his hands.

“What?” I ask.

He jumps a little and shakes his head.

“Nothing. Um, can you give me a hand in here?” I nod and follow him into his bedroom and back toward his closet.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“We need to get that,” he says, pointing to a small safe, “into your car. If we can’t do it today, I’ll just get some of the guys to give me a hand another time.”

The black box is deceptively small, but I know that the thing must weigh a ton.

“We can try,” I say, feeling skeptical. Sylas grabs one end of the safe and I go for the other and we count to three and lift. It raises about three inches off the floor and that’s as far as we get.

“No way,” I say, setting my end back down. If I try to do any more, I’m going to tear or break something. Sylas sighs and sets his end down.

“Why don’t we empty it and then try again?” I ask. He does the combination of the safe and I look away to give him some privacy.

He pulls a few things out and then shuts the safe again. He sets the things on the bed and then we try again. No dice.

“If you want, we can stop and get another one, if you feel like you need it.” All of my secure stuff is at my dad’s house. He’d definitely have an extra one or two hanging around.

There’s no way in hell I’m calling him though.

Sylas gathers up the rest of his things and puts them in a duffel bag.

“Were you serious about the coffee table?” he asks.

“Totally. I want you to feel at home at my place. Our place, I guess.” The apartment is definitely decorated 99 percent me and 1 percent Sylas at the moment.

“But you’re a much better decorator than I am,” he says, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“That may be true, but I still want it to look like our apartment instead of just mine.” We haven’t discussed how rent or utilities are going to work yet, but we’re definitely doing this and I can’t help but feel giddy.

Commitment has always somewhat terrified me. I never thought I would want the kind of relationship I’m in right now.

“Let’s take this stuff down and then we can come back for the coffee table,” he says. I know the table will fit in the BMW since I’ve seen it crammed in before. That was so long ago. Feels like another lifetime.

The car is full when we go back to my place. Unloading the car seems to take a lot longer than putting the stuff in and by the time we’re done and his coffee table has taken its rightful place, I’m sweaty and exhausted.

I flop on the couch and Sylas joins me.

“I can’t believe we’re living together,” he says, putting his arm around my shoulder and lacing our fingers together.

“I know. I had no idea we’d be here, but I knew when I met you that you were going to change my life.” I turn my head and rest it against his chest.

“I knew, too. I remember seeing a picture of you Cash had given me. Your hair was all over your face and you were laughing. Your dress was black with little skulls all over it. I kept telling myself it was just a physical reaction. You were just another beautiful woman. It was so much more than that, though, Saige.” I know exactly what he means.