"I don't like eating alone," I admitted. "It's depressing, Topolina."

Everly looked back at me from the foot of my bed. "I'm not very hungry. Sorry."

"No? I would have thought your lips would be starved after all the work they did earlier."

She glanced at me with a shy smile. I stared at her hair, falling down the center of her back, as I ate my dinner. After a moment she turned around.

The television forgotten, a pair of hazel eyes focused solely on me. "I have anxiety about eating . . . sometimes full on panic attacks. Making it into a big deal doesn't help."

I stayed quiet and allowed her truth to stew until it settled. "That's not the whole story though, isn't it?"

"You tell me. You're the doc in training."

I shoved my plate aside and scooted closer. In the dim glow of my bedroom Everly felt exposed. No hiding. No cloak of the classroom games. And if I had to sink just to swim, I would've drowned to find out her truth.

"I'm all out of guesses," I said, "And you've promised to give it to me straight."

I reached for her hands and she let me trace over her map of scars. I was a little lost in lines and wonder as she whispered, "Do you want to see them all?"

"Only if you want to show them to me."

"I'd have to take all my clothes off, again."

My eyes lifted to see her face but she's focused on my hands. "Have you completely stopped caring about your father killing me?"

She cracked a brief smile. "It's actually part of my daily routine to make sure I haven't hurt myself, so it'd be perfectly acceptable seeing as how you're a doctor."

"So this is strictly for self-preservation," I mused. "Eight." I stand and reach for her hand. "You come up with terrific cover stories."

"Eight what?" she asked.

"Oh nothing."

Tatum interrupted by banging eloquently on my door while shouting, "Fireworks in five, Lovebirds! Put your dick away, Cal, and come down stairs!"

I shook my head, laughing, "We'll be right down."

Everly looked up at me. "I guess getting naked will have to wait."

"At least until the fireworks end," I said. "Don't want too much beautiful happening all at once."

"Is this how you wooed Amelia into your bed all those years ago?" She asked as we walked downstairs.

"Nope. Half bottle of Jack wooed Amelia into my bed."

"A three-some. Nice."

"More like a one-some. She spent most of the night throwing up. I'm shocked she even remembers."

"She looks at you like she really remembers."

"Truscott looks at you like you're every star in the sky," I retorted. "Does that mean anything?"

"He's dying and I've promised him my heart. I think it's pretty self-explanatory."

"No," I argued as we followed everyone down to the beach, "It's different. Do you feel like that about him? Do you like him beyond wanting to help him? You can be honest. It'd be an honor to have my heart broken by The Girl with Southern Belle Soft Lips."

"You mean does he give me a thousand butterflies in my stomach when I'm around him?" We found a spot to sit in the sand.

"Yeah, I guess."

She sat close to me, closer than I expected, hip to hip, side to side.

"No." Everly turned her head, leaving our faces only a breath apart. "But this gives me a thousand butterflies, Callum Andrew." Softer, "And kissing you on our one free day gives me a million more."