The screen blurs through my tears, chest tight. My hands press against my lips, as if I can hold back the torrent of hurt threatening to spill out of me.

Bas is still chatting with Jolet, but I'm not focused on the words. All I can see are his eyes when he looked into the camera and said I was like coming home. How effortlessly he admitted to loving me, how his face crumbled when he said he'd hurt me.

"Oh God," I gasp out, heaving in a ragged breath as the screen cuts to commercial. I turn my head, meet Kaila and Claude's worried gazes. Their expressions are differing degrees of sympathy, with Claude's having an extra splash of triumph. "What did I do?" I whisper in a broken voice, hands in my hair.

What did I do?

"Well," Kaila begins, looking mildly irritated, "let's go get him back. I'll drive." She starts to rise, Claude close behind. But I shake my head, grab at Kaila's wrist with chilled fingers.

"I can't," I cry, drawing her back down beside me. She thumps to the cushions, staring at me in complete confusion. "I can't." I repeat, voice cracking.

Claude gives a strangled noise and puts her hands on her hips, "Why not?" I spare her a fleeting glance then return to Kaila and grip her forearm tightly. She winces as my nails bite into her skin.

"I can't. You remember what I said to him. I was awful, he won't want me after that. I can't face that; I can't face him." I plead.

Kaila's green eyes soften and she pulls me into an awkward hug more complicated by the way I have her arm trapped between us.

"Reecie, I don't think he's going to hold that against you. There was a lot going on." She soothes. I choke on a sob, turn my face into her shoulder and shake my head.

I can already see the scene playing out in my head. Me, looking contrite and miserable on his doorstep; him, looking tormented and unsettled as he tells me how he can never take me back. My heart breaking into one million glistening pieces on the floor; me staring emptily as the door slams in my face.

"Of course he'll take you back!" Claude soothes. I feel a hand touch my knee and turn to face her apprehensively, a knot forming in my chest. She gazes at me kindly. "He's hurting just as badly as you are. He'll do anything to have you back." Her words are so sincere that I almost believe her.

"How can you say that?" I gasp, reaching out to clasp her hand. She responds, squeezing gently. "I hurt him; you don't know what I said."

Claude looks at me dryly, "I do actually, he told me." She admits, looking briefly pained. "You did hurt him, I'll admit that. But—"

"Why would you say that?" Kaila hisses.

Claude shoots her a look. "If you'd let me finish..." she drops off meaningfully, Kaila grits her teeth and waves a hand in dismissal. Claude returns her eyes to me, "But we talked about that, him and I. He understands what happened now, the way you were triggered. How you reacted, was out of your control. It was a visceral response to danger; you weren't trying to hurt him. Based on what he told me, it sounds like you weren't really talking to Bastien at all. You were talking to Asher; the fucker just wasn't there to take the heat, so you transferred it to Bas." Claude's explanation sounds so reasonable and clear that I want to give in and let the guilt I feel slip away. By the look on her face, she knows what I'm thinking.

All the while, Kaila remains in place, content to let me make crescents in her arm with my tight grip. Her free hand rubs my shoulder soothingly.

I swallow thickly, my mouth dry after so many tears. Claude's hazel eyes taunt me with their resemblance to Bas's, the gentleness reflected in them is parallel to the affection I've seen so many times before in his. And I filled them with despair.

"No," I jerk, feeling new tears slip from my eyes. In the back of my mind, a voice I haven't heard in a few weeks begins rumbling. The sound grows louder until it's shouting in my head, the words it spews so sharp they cut me through.

You're not enough, you never were. Not for him. Not for me.

I feel like I'm spiraling with no net to catch me as I press my hands on either side of my head, squeeze until the voice becomes little more than a dull buzzing. Except the idea's been planted, the thoughts that branch from it now are dark and monstrous, something I can't get control of.

"Reecie," Claude rubs my knee, prompting me to look at her. I take a deep, steadying breath and comply. She must see something in my eyes, the brokenness I suddenly feel inside, because she pulls me from Kaila and into a fierce hug that squeezes the air from my lungs. "Whatever you're thinking, whoever is in your head right now, they're wrong. It's all wrong." I sink into her embrace, hands by my sides, chin on her shoulder as I stare at the wall.

"You're right," I begin slowly, Claude seems to relax just a bit and pulls back to look at my face. "You're right, it's all wrong. This, me thinking I could ever be enough for someone like him."

Claude's lips part, her eyes a whirlwind of emotion. "No, no, that's not what I meant at all." She counters, her gaze flits over my shoulder toward Kaila. "Talk to her."

Kaila rises from the couch and latches onto Claude's arm, jerking the woman to her feet. "Walk with me a moment," Kaila spares me a swift glance, "Reecie, we'll be right back." I nod and curl into myself, thighs against my stomach, hands locked around my calves, head on my knees.

Kaila drags Claude away, the two of them disappearing into the kitchen. I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to get the sight of Bastien's face out of my head, unable to get past the cracking feeling in my chest, the crumbling of his face.

"What are you doing?" Claude whisper-shouts from the kitchen. Kaila makes a shushing noise, but when she speaks, her voice is the same volume as Claude's.

"I know Reecie," Kaila starts. "She's in this hole right now, and nothing you or I say will get through. No matter how right you are, or how much I agree with you." Kaila pauses and there's the brief sound of running water. Then, "Also, if you keep pushing, she's going to shut down completely."

Claude makes an indignant sound, "Part of dealing with depression and anxiety is confronting the illogical thoughts--"

"Reece is not your average patient! She's screwed up seven ways from Sunday." I cringe briefly, knowing Kaila's words aren't meant to be critical or condescending, simply informative. But they still hurt, even if they're true. "She knows it, I know it, and you know it. She works through things differently."

Claude seems to ponder this a moment. I imagine her arms crossed, looking pensive. "So what do you suggest we do?"

"Leave, let her process. All those thoughts in her head right now are too loud. They'll quiet once she's had some time. Then," Kaila pauses and sighs, "well, then you can prod at her with your psychobabble bullshit."

Claude laughs outright at that. "Tell me how you really feel."

I tune them out again as their conversation shifts toward a bit more banter. Somewhere inside me, that notion is thrilling to know they're kind of-maybe-sort of, becoming friends.

Then I remember that losing Bas means losing them all. Suddenly all I want to do is sleep.

**

I don't get out of bed until that next afternoon, and when I do, it's only because my mouth is so dry it feels like sandpaper. My hair clings to my neck from a mix of sweat and tears, and I know without looking in a mirror that my eyes are bloodshot.

I stumble into the kitchen, pour a glass of water, and drain it without much conscious thought. My body moves on autopilot, shuffling around for a snack before slipping quietly into the bathroom. When I turn on the shower, I almost forget to take my clothes off before stepping into the stream.

With her, it was never falling. It was – is – like coming home.

I close my eyes, try to ignore his voice in my head. It's been playing on repeat all night, even in my dreams. A torturous cycle of every happy moment I ever shared with Bastien, and the crushing knowledge that I pushed him away and won't get him back.

I know what Claude said yesterday, what Kaila insisted was true, what the logical part of my mind is telling me. But my heart is overriding everything else, and in this moment, nothing seems like it could ever be right again.

Tears run steadily down my cheeks, indiscernible from the water crashing down on my face. But I know they're there, I can feel them burning paths on my skin.

Numbly, I go through the motions of washing my hair and body, scrubbing away the sweat, tear stains, and misery. As I'm finishing up with my hair, head bent forward watching the soap run off the wet strands and down the drain, there's a knock on the door.

At first, I don't hear it, but the person is persistent, each time getting louder and louder. I expect Kaila to answer it, in fact, I'm silently begging her to answer it and send whoever it is away. But several moments seem to pass in which the banging continues with no indication of it stopping.

"Come on, Kaila," I grumble, suddenly irate as I shut off the shower and make a hasty grab for my towel. I flip my head, sap up as much water from my hair as I can before wrapping the towel around myself and skittering across the kitchen toward the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

My hand closes around the knob, and I have a split second to second-guess answering the door in nothing but a towel. But it's too late to do anything about it as I fling it wide, ready to lay into whoever couldn't take the hint.

My eyes fall on a young man with slightly damp brown hair, soft hazel eyes, and a familiar face. He's in jeans and a warm jacket, there's signs of melting snow and a telltale puddle under his feet. In his hands, he holds a box with quarter-sized holes on all sides.

The air in my throat freezes, and it has nothing to do with the gust of winter air that slams into me. "Bastien." I breathe, suddenly very aware of my clothes, or more accurately, lack thereof.

He'd been about to speak when I'd opened the door, but the sight of me had caught him with his lips parted. Those bright hazel eyes widen in surprise, and maybe a bit of disbelief. He takes in the towel clutched around my body, the tangled mess of my hair, and the water still dripping down my legs.

But the sound of his name, or maybe the sound of my voice, jerks him back to the present. "Uh—um," He averts his gaze to the floor as he thrusts the box toward me. A very humble gesture coming from Bas. "This is for you." I want so badly for him to look up at me again, but he keeps his eyes pointedly on floor, cheeks burning a cherry red.

I blink and uncertainly manage to hold up my towel and take the cardboard box from his hands. It's surprisingly heavy. "Oh, okay. What—"

"Just open it," He cuts me off, flicking his eyes up to mine. Then, seeing the utter confusion in my expression, his face softens slightly, and he attempts a weak smile. "Please." He adds in a near whisper. I nod my head jerkily and step back, allowing him to come inside. Bas hesitates for a moment, then reaches down and plucks up a plastic bag from the ground and crosses the threshold.

I kick the door shut with my foot, too shocked by this odd turn of events to really process the fact that Bastien Killfeather is standing in my apartment. He sets the plastic bag on the island and turns toward me, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

For a moment, I can't do anything more but stare at him. His smooth, dark skin, the way he has his head tilted toward the floor, shoulders slumped like he's trying to make himself smaller than he is. Then he clears his throat, meets my eyes through his eyelashes. "The box." He prompts.

I stir from my haze and nod. Bending down, I awkwardly settle on my knees and set the box before me. I pull the cardboard cover off and gasp at the creature within.

Curled up on a thin-looking blanket a blue merle puppy perks tipped ears. I know instantly that it's an Australian Shepherd as it peers at me with sky-blue eyes. A fluffy tail begins frenzied wagging, having not been docked, which is unusual for this breed but also makes me exceptionally happy. It blinks, gets to its feet and emits a garbled little yawn.

The cardboard falls from my hands as I stare at the puppy in complete astonishment. It makes another attempt at a bark and advances toward me, paws up on the side of the box. I don't think as I reach in and liberate the animal, clutching it to my chest with a mumbled word of comfort.

Somewhere above me, Bas shifts and bends down to eye level. I look up at him in a starry daze, unable to formulate a sentence. He must see the question on my face because he says, "Do you remember my friend, Henry? His Aussie just had a litter. I don't think we saw them while we were there, he keeps them separate until they're old enough to roam without getting lost." Bas has started to ramble, so I reach out and touch his knee. He freezes at the action, swallowing thickly.

"Bastien—"

He holds up a hand, shaking his head. "Wait, let me finish, Reagan." Bas urges with the briefest flash of amusement. I clamp my mouth shut as he takes in a steadying breath and exhales heavily. "I remember you at the Adopt-A-Thon, with that Aussie puppy. You wanted him." Bas says, hazel gaze all seriousness as he regards me.

I nod weakly, feeling fresh tears pressing at the backs of my eyes. "I did."

He lowers himself to the floor, kicking his long legs out at an angle, heels against the tile, and arms on his knees. "I wanted to get you a puppy then and there, but I didn't want to overstep. Now," Bas drags a hand through his hair and sighs. "Now I don't think I can screw things up any more than I already have so," he gestures at the puppy. "I at least wanted you to have her."

"Her?" I echo stupidly.

Bas nods, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the bag on the counter. "There's a leash, collar, some food in the bag. I figured I'd get the basics, let you take it from there. I included the paperwork for her shots too. She's up to date. And, in case you were wondering, Henry doesn't dock their tails because he feels that it's unnecessarily cruel if they're not going to be used as herding dogs. Hope that's okay."

I laugh and watch the furry tail flick from side to side, thumping softly against my shoulder. "It's perfect." Then, "Name?" I ask, using single syllables because I can't push past the onslaught of emotion to string words together.

Bas shakes his head. "No, that's up to you."

I stare down at the puppy snuggled against my collarbone, listen to her soft breathing, and curl my fingers around her furry body. My mind races as I shuffle through the last few months, drawing up the Adopt-A-Thon in my mind's eye, noticing now how closely he'd paid attention. Then there's the night we went to see the Christmas lights, the easy banter we'd had between us, the inflatable, and the conversation it brought on.

"Sally," I say, more to myself than him. Still, Bas looks up from the puppy to my face, a small frown between his brows. "From A Nightmare Before Christmas." I clarify, feeling one rogue tear slide down my cheek. I rub at it frantically, hoping he hadn't seen.

Next, when I seek out his expression, he's watching me with a mix of sorrow and pain.

"From the light trail," he whispers. We stare at one another, caught in this tense moment of remembrance and wishes.

"Who was at the door?" Kaila's voice travels down the hall, breaking the fragile connection. Bas clears his throat and climbs to his feet just as Kaila strolls in, she comes to a screeching halt at the sight of him. "Oh! Hi, Bastien!"

He nods politely. "Hey Blue," Bas shuffles toward the door, barely sparing me a backward glance. "I was just leaving." He says, pulling on the doorknob.

It's then that panic starts to well up inside me as my mind finally catches up with everything happening around me. Bas brought me a puppy. He remembered how desperately I wanted one at the Adopt-A-Thon, so he went and made it happen.

He got me a dog.

She's like coming home.

He thinks we're over and he's still trying to make me happy.

It's what you do for someone you love – I love you.

Adrenaline burns through me as I struggle to my feet, careful to keep a tight hold on the puppy as I do. "Wait!" But my protest gets lost as he slams the door shut.

For a moment, I just stand there like an idiot as Kaila's gaze roves over me, the towel around my body, and the puppy in my arms. "Reecie?" Kaila probes.

Wait, wait, wait! I silently cry, wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do. I can't just run out with a puppy in my arms, it won't make what I want to do very plausible. Not to mention I'm in a towel and it's cold outside. But, at the same time, if I don't move now, I might not get another chance.

I give Kaila a desperate look. "I need—I have to—" Whatever the hell I'm trying to convey, she understands and rushes forward, sweeping Sally into her arms.

"Go!" Kaila barks at me, gesturing at the door. "I've got this sweetheart for now. Go get yours."

I don't have to be told twice.

I sprint toward the door, fling it wide and lunge into the hallway. It's empty and cold as I stare around in a frenzy. Please don't let it be too late.

"Bastien!" I call out, heading for the stairwell. My feet come to a skidding halt at the top, eyes scanning the landing below for his familiar frame. The towel around my chest loosens as I make a mad dash down the steps, uncaring of how ridiculous I must look to anyone unfortunate enough to open their front door right now. I grab at it, heart thudding as my bare feet hit the wet floor and the entry door looms before me.

It's there that I hesitate, wondering if he's even still out there and if my attempt at chasing him down will be worth it. I'm obviously underdressed, a lot frantic, and already shuddering in the chilly air.

I love you.

I smack my fist into the handle, shove it open and step halfway outside. The blistering cold hits me instantly, sending violent shivers down my spine. I gasp, raising my hand to fend against the snow flurries as I squint down both sides of the walkway.

"Bastien!" I scream, several people turn to stare at me as they hustle by. I ignore them, focused only on the broad shoulders stopped dead in their tracks. He spins around, looking taken aback at the sight of me standing there in a towel while snow falls around me.

"Reece?" He questions, freeing his hands from his pockets and jogging back toward the front door. When he reaches me, he curves his arm around my shoulders and hustles me back inside. "What are you doing? You'll get hypothermic out there, especially dressed like that!" He chides, running his hands up and down my arms fervently, his eyes wide and concerned. "Jesus. You're hair's wet and everything."

"I had to—" my teeth chink together, cutting me off in the middle of my sentence. I laugh and shake my head, pressing in closer to him. Bas doesn't move away, but I can tell by the taut way he holds himself that he's unsure what to do. "I had to go—after you." I try again, this time managing to get the words past my chattering.

"What do you mean?" He voices, still rubbing his hands along my arms and up my neck. His thumb brushes my collarbone and I gasp, but it's got nothing to do with how frozen I am.

I fist his jacket in my free hand, the other still holding up my towel. "Because," I look up into his dubious expression. "I had to do this." I press up on my tiptoes and pull down on his jacket in the same moment, meeting his mouth with mine.

Bas makes a strangled, surprised noise, rigid as I press myself against him. Then, slowly and all at once, his arms encircle my body and pull me even closer. The tension melts away as he meets my desperate kiss. His lips pull and caress mine, tongue sweeping and curling along the inside of my teeth. I feel his hand at the nape of my neck, so I twine my own up and around to tangle in his hair.

The angle deepens, giving him better access. The hardness of his piercing slides along my tongue, pulling me into his mouth. I emit a hungry pant, and he presses for more. Harder. I relent, gasping at how much I've missed this, how much I've missed him. His crisp scent invades my senses, his hands scald me everywhere he touches. I moan when he nips at my lip, revel in his answering pleasured groan.

Our teeth click together hard and my eyes fly open. We pull back a few inches, both breathless. I look up into his dazed expression with equal wonder. The words burn on the tip of my tongue and I can't hold them back any longer.

"I love you," I say, breathing heavily. Hazel eyes widen slightly, the dark of his pupils blown with desire. "I love you Bastien Killfeather." I repeat.

His stunned silence slices me in half.

"I'm sorry about what I said to you that night." I rush, fear him leaving. "I wasn't thinking, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I never meant to—"

His lips crash into mine, silencing me. Before it had been hurried and desperate, now it's soft and torturously slow. "I know." He murmurs against my mouth.

This time, when he breaks the kiss, it's to press his forehead against mine. "Why did you stop?" I manage in a winded voice.

"So I could tell you I love you too," he responds with a grin. Hearing those words from his lips while he's not covered in blood and begging me to stay makes my body tense with need.

My hand, still tangled in his hair, tightens as I pull back against his skull, suddenly empowered by those three simple words. Bas backs me up against the wall, his chest heaving in the fading light of evening. There's a question in his eyes, one that I answer when I press my thigh between his legs.

"Take me to my bed." I order.