As soon as we leave the lobby, we go straight past the lone cameraman still in town and right for the car. Dylan opens the door for me, and I climb in. It's a cool, windy afternoon in Tucson, the coldest one since I've been here. My satin purple top doesn't do much to keep the chilly air off my skin.

We slip around to the back of the hotel and down a side street Dylan found. Making sure no one's following us, we drive to the base of the mountains, and Dylan pulls off at a nearly-hidden trailhead. Even from this tiny parking lot, the mountains are clearly visible. And they're still so beautiful my throat aches. Our car is the only one in the lot, and I exhale in relief. No cameras and no people, at least not right now.

We step out onto the trail and walk for a little while in silence until Dylan stops by a large flat rock.

"Is this good?" he asks me.

I nod. Here it is. The moment I've been doing such a great job of avoiding is here, and at this point, I couldn't lie if I wanted to. It's too late in the game. A large part of me just wants to get the truth over with, anyway. Trying to keep the secret from Dylan has been extremely draining.

"I want you to know more about me, but I don't want to scare you off," I say.

"You won't."

"You don't even know what I'm going to say." I smile at him. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I love you, Jasalie." He leans over and kisses me. "I. Love. You," he whispers.

His cheeks are flushed, and his dark eyes are lasers as they pin me in place, begging me to say it back.

I give him what I can, as much of me as I'm able to.

"I just..." I fumble for the words. "I don't get this. Us. I never believed in love before. Any kind of love."

Dylan touches my cheek. "I guess I dropped the ball the other day at lunch," he says. "Because I didn't ask you those important questions you asked me. You know...what are your relationships like with your parents and your friends? I mean I know you were homeless for a time, so obviously, your life hasn't been all roses."

"It's definitely not a pleasant picture." My voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

"Take your time."

I sit down across from him on the rock and cross my legs. I drop my gaze and stare at Dylan's black jeans for several seconds. The silence between us grows bigger, and I hate the tension so much that I start talking.

"On any given day, about four hundred and fifteen thousand kids are in foster care in this country."

Dylan lets out a strangled sound. "Honey, are you-"

I cut him off, knowing if I don't keep going, I won't be able to. "That house we drove by is my birth mother's last known address."

"Christ, Jasalie."

"I haven't heard from her since I was little. Then recently, I received a letter letting me know that my mother's gambling debts have gotten the best of her. She owes twenty five grand, and the casino will take her home if she doesn't pay off the money. I was told I had sixty days to help her if I could." I take a deep breath. "So when you offered the money in exchange for some photo ops with you, I said yes."

Dylan's hand reaches for mine.

"I don't know if I'll ever actually knock on her door or not or if I'll just mail her a check. I don't know if I want to take the risk of seeing her in person or not. Because the chances are high that she'll just reject me all over again."

Except this time, I'd be old enough to remember every detail.

Dylan's thumb is stroking my palm now. "How old were you when you lost her?"

"My dad left before I was born, and my mom turned me in to foster services on my fourth birthday. She was twenty. I never saw her again."

I stare at Dylan's thumb rubbing soothing circles on my hand as I continue. "I bounced around from family to family every couple of years. I finally settled down with one woman, Ilene, until I was eleven. She was my first real foster mother. Then, she had an accident, and I went to live with Zoe and Lionel till I was fifteen. And they were both fine. No abuse, ever, at any of the places. I was very, very lucky. Zoe and Lionel taught me about good food and how to toast properly. All the important stuff you know." I break into a nervous giggle. "But that was pretty much it for me in terms of stability. I ended up on the streets for half a year and had to drop out of high school. I learned to defend myself with some basic moves, like the one I used on that asshole paparazzo."

I breathe out the last of my confession. "I just had no sense of security or of love. So I guess I'm not too keen on opening myself up again. You know?"

I force myself to look up and meet Dylan's gaze for the first time.

His eyes shine with unshed tears. "Jesus, Jasalie. I'm sorry. I had no idea. I wish I hadn't been so clueless. I just..." He runs his hand through his hair. "I guess I'm spoiled. I assumed you had a family more like mine."

"Stable? Loving? Normal?" I joke.

My secret's out, and as usual, I'm ashamed. Like never having a family was somehow my fault. Because not being normal always has a sticker attached to the outside world that makes people think, "You could have prevented this, couldn't you?"

Dylan grabs my hand. "Shit. You're ice cold. Come on. Let's get out of here."

As soon as we reach the car, Dylan turns the heat on full blast, but nothing's warming me up.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," I mutter as we reach the hotel. "I'm just so damn cold."

"Let's go inside the hotel and get into bed," Dylan suggests.

I crawl into bed with all my clothes on.

"Baby, you should change," Dylan insists. "It will help warm you up. I'll get your pajamas."

"I don't own pajamas," I tell him. "Have you ever seen me wear any?"

"I thought that was for my benefit," he says with a grin. "I didn't know you always slept in the nude."

"I don't," I say, my cheeks warming. "I usually just wear a t-shirt or something."

"Well, wear my sweats." He rummages around in the drawer. "Here. These are warm."

Cougars' sweatpants and sweatshirt, plus a Cougars' jersey. And thick white socks.

I smile my thanks as I change. My teeth chatter the entire time. Dylan turns on the heat in the room.

"Dylan, you must be so hot. Don't worry about the heat. I'll warm up once I get under the covers again."

"I'll turn it off once you're feeling better," he says. "But I'm not going to watch you freeze and do nothing."

I get his clothes on and climb into bed. Dylan snuggles in next to me and puts his arms around me.

"Let me hold you," he says as he hugs me to him tightly.

I relax into his arms and allow him to wrap me up in his love.

When I've stopped shaking, Dylan orders us some tea and soup.

"All set," Dylan says as he hangs up the phone. "Twenty minutes."

"Thank you." I bring his head down to mine so I can kiss him.

"Your lips are hot. Maybe that's a good sign."

I smile. "Maybe. Maybe they're just responding to your hotness."

He laughs. "I doubt your lips need any help."

I rest my head on his shoulder again and look down at my hands. "Yeah, so I'm kind of from nowhere. Nowhere to go back to, either."

"I think you're even more amazing than I did before." Dylan kisses the top of my head. "I wish you hadn't been afraid to tell me. Do you realize how strong of a person you are?"

"No," I say honestly. "I guess I don't think about my past as a positive. More like a handicap."

"You should think about who you are as a positive," he says. "I'm so incredibly proud of you. You should be proud of you, too."

"That's partly why your charity hit home for me so much. The fact that you're working with foster kids-I felt even more of a connection with you."

"I remember your reaction," he says quietly, his eyes closing like he's reliving the moment. "You looked so startled. I asked if you were okay."

"And that was part of the reason I pushed you away at the final team event, because of the group of foster kids who were there. Those kids just-hit me right in the heart when I see them. As if I'm still one of them. Because I guess in a way, I am. I always will be."

"I'm sorry." Dylan kisses my hair and my cheeks. "If I had known-one of the little girls was so damn cute. She kept following me around, telling me she just wanted a mom and dad to go home to. Freaking broke my heart."

I put my hand to his chest. "You're making a difference. Any positive attention I got as a kid was like gold. It means everything to have that kind of reinforcement. And in spite of all of it, I still want the 'normal life.'" I use air quotes because I'm well aware there's no such thing as "normal," no matter how many ways people want to say there is. "As much as I try to convince myself I don't. I want to be a mother. I really do. Whether I get pregnant or choose to adopt an infant or an older child like me who had no home-I'm not sure how I want to do things yet."

"I would be open to any of the above," Dylan says in a quiet voice. "Even though I know you weren't asking."

I inhale. "You-would be? Open to adoption?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

My stomach flutters with an unfamiliar emotion at his words, and I keep talking quickly. "But I don't want to carry on all that crap-you know, abandonment issues and inability to parent."

"You won't." Dylan kisses me again. "You're in a completely different place than it sounds like your mother was when she had you."

"Maybe. Except I still have that pain of having been unwanted," I say. "I don't want to pass that feeling down to my child."

"Oh, you're wanted," Dylan says. "You're very, very wanted."