This One Moment by Stina Lindenblatt

his forehead. “Absolutely not.”
    “So you and she have never had sex?” I wanted to bang my head against the wall the moment those words came out. If he had had sex with her, I’d rather not know. It was hard enough reading about his erotic trysts with his lucky fans. At least those I could pretend were make-believe, nothing more than wishful thinking by those girls.
    Before I could tell him to ignore the question because my vivid imagination was enough, thank you, he replied, “Not even once. Which also means any rumors you may have heard that I’m going to be a father next year are false.”
    “That you know of.” My heart tugged hard at the possibility.
    “I always use a condom.” He studied my face, his head tilted to the side like a curious golden retriever. As if he wasn’t already adorable enough.
    My heart rate kicked up. On the bright side, I was no longer attached to a heart rate monitor.
    “What about you? Any little Haileys running around?”
    A smirk lifted the corner of my mouth. “Not that I know of. At least no guy so far has come forth claiming to be carrying my child, or to have fathered a child with me. Besides, like you, I always use a condom. And I’ve been tested. So I’m clean.” No idea why the sudden need to share that with him.
    His gaze dropped momentarily to my lips. “Me too.”
    “Is it…is it hard being known by a different name? I mean, doesn’t it get confusing at times?” I asked, quickly changing topics again.
Or have you forgotten who you used to be?
    “Do I wish I could be Nolan Kincaid instead of Tyler Erickson? Yes. Do I want everyone to know the truth about my former life?” He shook his head, the sadness in his eyes unmistakable.
    And that’s when I did the one thing I hadn’t done since Nolan returned home—I hugged him. He didn’t stiffen or pull away. He held on to me like I was the air he needed to breathe. I rested my head on his shoulder and let my own grief at what he had gone through smother me. I’d loved his mother and his sister. I still felt their loss every day.
    And for the thousandth time since their deaths, I wished I’d done things differently. Maybe if I had, they would still be alive, and Nolan wouldn’t be so torn apart.
    “As much as I wish I could be Nolan,” he murmured in my hair, “that’s not who I am anymore.”
    “You’re wrong,” I said, my head still on his shoulder, his scent of lemons and sunshine soothing me. “It’s exactly who you are. Even if the rest of the world doesn’t realize it yet.”
    —
    I wasn’t sure what woke me up. The room was dark, other than the red numbers glowing on my alarm clock: 2:13 a.m. It was that irritating time of night where if you didn’t get back to sleep in, say, the next thirty seconds, you could cross a good night’s sleep off your list of daily accomplishments.
    The air was still and eerily quiet. I felt oddly out of balance, and it had nothing to do with the time.
    It was a feeling I recognized all too well.
    I climbed out of bed, wearing my favorite worn-out tank top and sleep shorts, which were more about comfort than sex appeal. I slipped out of my room and walked the short distance to Nolan’s room. A faint light crept from under the door. Without knocking, I opened it.
    Nolan was pacing in the small confines of his room, his head down, the carpet muffling his footsteps. He was lost in his own world, oblivious to me in the doorway.
    “Hey, you can’t sleep?” I asked.
    His head shot up, eyes wide. He visibly relaxed when he spotted me, although I couldn’t say I felt the same. More like the opposite. Blame that on his half-naked body, every muscle in his torso strong and defined.
    Ever since he’d become popular, I couldn’t remember a time I’d seen pictures of him without a T-shirt on. Now I could see why. He didn’t want anyone to see the thick, five-inch scar along his otherwise perfect abs, halfway between his ribs and the waist of his low-rise jeans. I