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“Ansel, I know we need to⁠—”

“I’ve been meaning to call⁠—”

We both stop abruptly and chuckle.

I motion to him with my hand. “Sorry, you go first.”

“I owe you an apology.” He quickly glances around, making sure we’re alone, before stepping closer. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

That’s what I expected from him. There was no reality in which I thought he was going to tell me it was anything other than a mistake. And he’s probably right. But if that’s the case, why does it feel like each of his words is a bullet breaking through skin?

I don’t want to be a regret. I already fear I was to Caleb if what I suspect is true.

Before he said the words, I wasn’t sure what I wanted with him, but now I know. Because the first thing I felt wasn’t relief, but disappointment.

“Don’t apologize, Ansel.”

He shakes his head. “I put you in a shit position, and it’s not right. I’m supposed to be helping you move on. It’s what Caleb would have wanted. I’m not supposed to be making your life more complicated.”

The mention of Caleb’s name is like the slash of a whip, leaving a welt on my skin. “My life was already complicated.”

He gives me a solemn nod. “I know. And now I’ve made it more so. Can we just forget it ever happened?”

I step forward, covering more distance between us. “Is that what you want?”

I’m not sure why I’m pushing him. Maybe because I want the truth? Maybe because I want him to admit to me what I’m afraid to admit to myself… that there’s something between us? That in spending time with each other, more than a friendship took root.

He looks away from me. “It doesn’t matter what I want. There’s no world in which an us is okay.”

“It’s that easy for you to forget?” My voice betrays the hurt I feel, and I hate the vulnerability it brings into our conversation.

Ansel pulls a hand from his pocket and pushes it through his hair. “Why are you pushing this? You ran out of that truck as fast as you could. I thought you’d be relieved I want to forget it.”

I study his handsome features for a moment, noticing the tightness in them. The hint of despair mixed with hope in his eyes. “I was upset because…” I exhale. “I enjoyed it. And I wasn’t sure what that said about me.”

“And now?” he asks, taking another step toward me.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t want to forget it.”

Relief washes over his face. His hand grips my jacket and he pulls me into an embrace, his face tucked into the crook of my neck, breathing me in. “This is wrong. How I feel is wrong, Collins.”

I hear pain and struggle in his voice. How much whatever he’s feeling is costing him. But I didn’t need to hear it to know what it’s costing him because it’s costing me the same.

“What does this mean?” he whispers.

“I don’t know, I haven’t figured that out.”

He pulls back slightly and trails his nose along my jaw then up so the sides of our noses brush.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

It’s a kiss that’s not a kiss because our lips aren’t actually touching. Close, but not quite.