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“I need you to know I’m not here because I think you need saving.” His voice softens. “I’m here because I love you.”

Everything inside me stops.

My eyes fill with tears, but not from sadness or fear. I’m so hopelessly in love with this man that I don’t know how to process hearing him say the words aloud.

I grab his face and drag his mouth down to mine.

Dean’s arms wrap around my waist, lifting me from the ground as he kisses me back. It’s deep and desperate, carrying everything we couldn’t say over the last three days.

When we finally pull apart, I keep my hands against his cheeks.

“I love you too,” I whisper. “So much.”

His eyes close for half a second before he rests his forehead against mine.

I take a shaky breath. “But there’s something you need to know.”

“Okay.” Dean opens his eyes. “I’m listening.”

I glance toward my cottage, suddenly unable to breathe at the thought of telling him everything inside those walls.

“Can we go somewhere?” I ask.

Dean reaches for my hand. “Anywhere.”

* * *

The lighthouse is somehow even more beautiful at night. The beam sweeps across the dark water while the lights from town shimmer over the marina below. Everything is quiet except for the waves crashing against the rocks.

Dean leads me to the bench on the hill overlooking Northern Beach and sits beside me.

“Why here?” I ask.

“You once told me Hartwell felt safe.” He looks out at the ocean. “I couldn’t think of anywhere safer.”

My eyes begin to burn again. Fuck me. I don’t think I’ve cried this much in my life, and that’s saying something.

I draw in a deep breath, trying to find the courage to finally tell him everything.

“Before I came to Hartwell, my name was Blair Collins.”

Dean turns toward me, his brows pulling together. “Okay.”

“You already know about my parents and that I left home at sixteen.” I rub my palms against my thighs. “What I didn’t tell you was that it wasn’t only alcohol. There were drugs too. My entire childhood was built around keeping myself alive.”

Dean remains quiet, giving me the space to continue.

“When I moved into the city, I started clearing tables and washing glasses at a bar and grill after school. It was all off the books, obviously.” A small smile touches my lips. “Jerry was the manager. He looked out for me when no one else did.”

“That’s how you met him,” Dean says softly.

I nod. “I kept working there through college and eventually moved behind the bar. That’s where I met Ben.”

Even saying his name aloud makes my stomach turn.

“He was a regular customer. Everyone loved him because he always seemed like the most charming person in the room.” I look down at my hands. “We started dating, and in the beginning, everything was perfect. He was protective. He wanted to know when I got home and who I was with. I thought it meant he loved me.”

Dean’s hands curl into fists against his thighs. He already knows where this is going.