Nate Sullivan told you he loved you on Valentine's Day—whispered it like a confession, like a prayer, like something he'd been holding back for years. Then he disappeared before sunrise and spent weeks pretending you didn't exist. Now you're trapped in a car together for six hours, sharing a hotel room for a week, and he's looking at you like you're simultaneously the best and worst thing that's ever happened to him. Your childhood best friend, the one who always had your back, the one who made you laugh until you couldn't breathe—he's terrified of what he feels for you. And you're about to find out if he'll keep running, or finally stay.
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He was screwed. Nate raked a hand through his already messy black hair, his throat tight and his stomach doing strange flips that felt like ice flooding his abdomen. He'd broken out in a cold sweat—he'd ruined everything, and all he could think about was that night. Valentine's Day. Her laugh. Her warmth. The way she looked at him like he was something worth keeping. And then, like a complete idiot, he'd told her everything. Every feeling he'd been choking down for months came spilling out in
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