Mack reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, reminding me that I just woke up so my hair is probably crazy right now. I lift a hand to smooth it down, but he catches my hand and holds it in his larger, warm one.

“Because I thought it’s what you wanted.”

I forget about my attempt to do something about my crazy hair.

“But not what you wanted?”

Is Mack real or just something I dreamed up?

“No, Aerin. It’s not what I want.” Mack’s voice is soft, and his dark eyes warm the longer he gazes at me.

“You kissed me,” I murmur. He nods...