That was it: the cliff. All day I had been waiting to stand there, toes over the edge, body wavering between pitching forward or backing away. I'd reached the apex. Without knowing whether safety was ahead of me at the bottom of the drop or waiting behind me, I'd chosen the former. I was plummeting.

I sat just inside the guesthouse, my back against the closed door and my knees curled up to my chest. My fingers kept finding my lips, running softly across them, each time reigniting the tingling sensation that Gabriel's had left behind. Everything inside of me was moving faster than it was supposed to: my heart, my breath, my blood. My thoughts, too, were a jumbled, rushing mess.

Once the shock wore off and the butterflies that filled and fluttered in my stomach had finally come to rest, the nausea hit. My conscience was marred with guilt. Jack. I'd just betrayed the man I'd loved for half of my life, and for what? To be Gabriel's rebound?

That had to be what this was—a rebound. He'd just sent Odette away barely 24 hours ago. He was angry and disappointed and looking for a distraction. And I was convenient. Surely he'd sensed my attraction to him before and figured it made me an easy mark. He'd been right on that count: I had given in so quickly, without any hesitation. If he hadn't pulled away, I wouldn't have either. In that moment, I would have done anything he'd asked of me.

I sent a text to Ephraim early the next morning claiming to have woken up ill. It wasn't far from the truth, but really it was the thought of walking into that house, the mere possibility of seeing Gabriel, that had my stomach churning violently. I knew that I wouldn't be able to avoid him forever, but a day or two of hiding out in the guesthouse seemed like a good idea.

I eased myself into a scalding hot bath, letting the water soothe the muscles that ached from the tension I'd carried since the day before. Tipping my head back to rest against the tiled wall, I closed my eyes. When all I could see was Gabriel's face, I snapped them back open and swore. I longed desperately for a friend—I wanted to vent, to ask for advice. I wanted to talk to Jack. My best friend, the one I could talk to about anything. He always knew the right thing to say, could always look objectively at a situation and suggest a way forward. But this was one secret I couldn't share with him, and that realization made me feel impossibly lonely.

I took the next day off as well, hiding out for most of it in my bed watching clouds roll by through the skylights. I was a coward.

By late afternoon, I ventured down to soak again in the tub. The hot water and sweet-smelling bubbles seemed to be the only thing that could quiet my mind. I took my time, lighting a candle and dimming the lights. Twice I let it grow cold, only to drain it halfway and refill it again. Finally, beginning to feel overheated, I stepped out and dressed. I was toweling off my hair on my way back to the loft when my heart launched into my throat.

"What are you doing here?" Gabriel was crouched down in front of the fireplace, tossing a log onto the small blaze he'd gotten started there. He straightened up when he heard me come in, wiping his hands on his pants.

"Ephraim said you've been sick. I came to check in on you."

"Oh. Just a low fever," I lied. He crossed the room in three large strides and pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. I couldn't pull away fast enough.

"You do feel warm," he said. I was grateful he'd caught me right out of the hot bath, though it could have just as easily been his proximity that had raised my body temperature. I moved into the kitchen to fill a glass with water, looking for any excuse to put some distance between us.

"You know, landlords are supposed to give tenants notice before entering their property."

"I knocked; you didn't answer." A bemused smile turned up the corners of his lips as he looked me over. "Are those my sweats?"

Shit. I looked down, cheeks instantly going crimson. I'd been meaning to give them back, but they were so comfortable they'd become my go-to lounge pants. The way they completely swallowed me from the waist down was too hard to pass up; even rolled three times over at the waist I still swam in them. I scrambled to string together a plausible excuse, but all I could force out was a pathetic "sorry."

He chuckled. "Keep them. They look better on you, anyway."

Stop fucking blushing.

"Well, you've checked in," I hinted. "You can tell Ephraim I'm alive."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" He was enjoying this, just as he had enjoyed teasing me about being afraid of him before in the hallway. Clearly, he took some twisted pleasure in making me uncomfortable. But this mischievous, playful mood of his never lasted long. We were running on borrowed time.

"Kind of." I tried to own it; I didn't want to keep satisfying his urge to make me blush.

He hummed. "Have you eaten?"

"Was there something else you needed?" I shifted my weight between my feet while I waited for his answer.

His smirk fell away and his expression became serious. "I wanted to address my actions from the other night."

"It's fine," I cut him off before he could continue. This wasn't a conversation I was ready to have. "We can just forget it ever happened."

He looked confused, brows furrowing. "That's not quite where I was going. Is that what you want?"

"I'm with Jack." I said the words firmly. Confidently. They didn't seem to matter to him.

"That's not what I asked."

I tried again: "I would never do anything to hurt him."

"You're not even a little bit curious?" Gabriel took a step forward and I backed up. I didn't have much more room between my back and the kitchen counter, but I thought maybe I could duck to the left if I had to and skirt around him into the living room.

"Curious about what?"

"About why I kissed you?" That smirk again, just a hint of amusement. He knew exactly how to get a rise out of me.

I eyed my escape route, but he didn't advance again. "I know why you kissed me."

"And why's that?" His voice. His low, velvet, skin-tingling voice that teased through my hair and made it slowly raise on the nape of my neck. Goddamn I was in trouble.

"You're rebounding." Though my own voice no longer carried the same confidence as it had when I'd started this argument, I aimed to make it very clear that I knew exactly what this was.

A frown appeared once more between his brows. "That's what you think?"

"Obviously."

"You're stubborn," he said. Then: "Have dinner with me."

I hadn't been mentally prepared for that request, and before I could catch myself and reaffirm my stance, I caught myself nodding yes. He grinned.

"Was that so difficult? I'll wait outside for you to change."

What the fuck did I just agree to? There's no way I'd become so weak-minded after one single kiss that I'd give in every time he cast his gaze on me, but that is precisely what I'd done. Maybe I'd feel better about it if he'd apologized first. Or begged. The thought of Gabriel before me, begging...I banished the image I'd just conjured from my head before my pulse could spike in response. If that man begged, I'd be absolutely powerless.

"Where are we going?" The night was quiet and charged around us as we walked across the snowy yard. Gabriel kept his pace slow to match mine.

He lifted his chin in the direction of his house. "I cooked."

Is he trying to hide me? I wouldn't have been surprised if he was. The whole pack had been watching his relationship with Odette closely, waiting for any sign or confirmation that he had found his mate. They'd been hoping for it not just for the sake of his happiness, but also for the promise of the strengthened alliance that would come with that pairing. Seeing him with me would be more than a disappointment—it would be a substantial downgrade.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he explained: "I wasn't sure you'd be feeling up to anything more."

I hummed. Sick or not, I was glad. I wasn't ready for eyes on us, especially before I knew what we were getting into myself.

Gabriel opened the back door for me and I followed him into the kitchen. Whatever he'd made smelled delicious, and in spite of myself my stomach started to growl. The house seemed noticeably warmer tonight, too. He pulled out a stool for me to sit at the kitchen island and I did so, watching him finish at the stove.

"What if I'd said no?" He'd been prepared for this, already with two bowls set out and two glasses filled with water.

He shrugged. "Didn't consider the possibility."

"Cocky." He flashed me a smirk over his shoulder before returning his attention to the pot. His broad shoulders obscured whatever he was stirring, but I preferred this view anyway. Seeing him this way, doing something like cooking in such a relaxed, casual manner just seemed so...normal. It was nice, though stood starkly at odds with the other side of him that could emerge at a moment's notice.

"I didn't know you could cook." I didn't know what to say but I wanted to avoid the heavy silence.

"Some," he said, spooning large servings of food into each bowl. "I thought pasta seemed like a safe bet."

I nodded and thanked him when he passed me the bowl across the island. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the other side. Without looking up, I could feel him watching me, so I took a bite.

"Good?" He asked.

"Yes, thank you." It was good; the type of heavy comfort food that I would have craved any other night if my stomach hadn't already been in knots over the conversation I knew he wanted to have. I was anxious for him to broach the subject.

Gabriel finally lowered his gaze to his own bowl and devoured it quickly. He wanted this to be over, too. I took a few more bites then toyed with my fork between my fingers, pushing the pasta around in its sauce. When I heard his fork set on the counter, I braced myself for whatever he had to say.

"You thought our kiss was a rebound?" Hearing him acknowledge it sent a single butterfly fluttering up from the depths of my stomach. Not the kiss; our kiss. He was claiming ownership over it.

"You and Odette ended things the day before," I said. "I don't know how it could have been anything different."

"It wasn't." He spoke quietly. Softly.

I ground my teeth together, torn between pushing for an answer and letting it lie. Good or bad, his answer would mean something. It would change things. "Then what was it?"

He carried our bowls to the sink so that he wouldn't have to look at me when he answered. "I don't know what this is yet, but I don't think I'm strong enough to keep ignoring it."

"Keep?" I asked. Everything about his choice of words tonight was loaded. He was doing it on purpose, trying to imbue more meaning into each brief statement without actually having to say what he felt. I took it to mean whatever it was that made him decide to kiss me, he had been feeling for some time.

"Keep," he confirmed. He stopped washing the dishes and now stood still over the sink, keeping his back to me.

Gabriel had put the ball in my court. He wouldn't be any clearer than this, I could tell by his posture. His shoulders were gradually starting to tense the longer the silence stretched between us. But I wasn't ready to run with it.

"Gabriel—" I started.

"He isn't your mate." That stung.

"That doesn't mean I don't love him."

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the counter. "I've said what I wanted to say. You can go."

Just like that, I was dismissed. I had no argument to throw back, no real response at all. So I left quietly.

I had another difficult conversation to face that night.