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“Neither am I.” She desperately needed a break. Not from the encounter but from him keeping all the attention on her body. It was time to flip it. She reached between them, fumbling with his zipper. She managed to undo his pants with relative ease and slipped her hand inside.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He tilted his head and cocked a brow.

“What does it feel like I’m doing?” She curled her fingers around him, squeezing gently but firmly.

His eyes grew wide. “Before this goes any further, we need to have an awkward chat.”

“That’s so not romantic while I’ve got this in my hand.”

“Maybe this will help.” He cupped her breast and took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

She gasped. That certainly wasn’t helping, but it didn’t hurt. “What do we need to discuss?” she managed to ask between raspy breaths.

“In a roundabout way, birth control.”

“Why? That’s a non-issue for—”

“Melinda told you.” It was a statement, not a question. He narrowed his eyes and took a step back, breaking off all physical contact.

“If you had let me finish my sentence, you’d know this isn’t about you. It’s about me,” she said.

“I’m not sure how that can be possible.”

“Are you serious?”

“Are you denying that Melinda told you?”

“Not the point,” she said.

He zipped his pants and turned his back. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed and freshen up before I take you home.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No,” he said without glancing over his shoulder. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be mad at you. But right now, I’m just pissed off, and I need some space.” He snagged his half-drunk beer off the table and padded off into the other room, leaving her standing there, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

* * *

Emmett satout in his backyard, barefoot and shirtless with a fresh beer in one hand and his cell in the other. He stared at it for a long moment. “Fuck it,” he mumbled as he set the beer down.

Emmett:Why the fuck would you tell her that I can’t get anyone pregnant?

He hit send, rested his phone on his leg, and went to take another big swig of his beer. His phone rang. He blew out a puff of air and tapped the answer button, putting it on speaker, knowing that he’d left the screen door open and the kitchen window, as well. If Trinity wanted to listen to this conversation, fine. It would be killing two birds with one stone.

His heart tightened.

“That’s not exactly what happened,” Melinda said, not bothering with pleasantries. “How did that even come up?”

“None of your business.”

“Shit,” Melinda said. “You’ve never been very good at broaching that subject, and I’m not even sure why you do anymore.”

“Do I really need to explain it all to you? Sometimes, it’s not about birth control. There are other reasons to use those stupid things.” Not to mention one particular woman who’d tried to trap him, but Melinda didn’t know about her. Very few people did.

“So, you say that and not—oh, hell. I hope you were a lot more sensitive with her feelings than you’re being right now because what she went through is a hell of a lot worse than what happened to us.”

“What are you talking about?” He lifted his beverage to his lips and chugged. It soured in his belly. He’d thought he’d come to terms with not being able to father a child. And, really, he had. Only Melinda constantly reminded him that every time he brought up using a condom during sex, he referenced it as birth control instead of protection against sexually transmitted diseases. Just because he regularly got tested—and was clean—didn’t mean everyone did.

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