Kellen spent the day in his car. It was only a few hours to the Houston airport, but he needed the time to clear his head. He called Owen every hour or two, hoping he’d eventually wear the guy down or annoy him enough that he’d answer. So far, his plan wasn’t working.

What Kellen wouldn’t give for a time machine. For as magical as that kiss had been, no moment of bliss was worth losing their friendship. He felt like part of him was missing, and he didn’t know how he’d go on with yet another piece of himself taken by someone he loved. He didn’t have Sara’s piece of him back; he’s just finally found a way to live without it. And his grandfather’s piece? Yeah, Dawn didn’t know about that missing piece yet, but he planned to show her during her visit. He told himself that he wasn’t attached enough to Dawn to lose more of himself if she left, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. He’d already willingly handed over another piece of himself, and when she left him, there wouldn’t be much left of Kellen at all.

Although Owen wasn’t answering his calls, Kellen did manage to get a hold of Joan, who had moved beyond despair to a place of hope and gratitude that Chad was alive. Chad had made it through surgery, survived the most critical night, and was currently sedated in a hospital in Germany. His commanding officer had been kind enough to video chat with Joan and James while at Chad’s bedside and show them that their son was breathing, that his heart was beating, and though he was unconscious and his body was scarcely recognizable from the damage he’d suffered, that he was likely to recover if no complications arose. When Joan asked why Kellen had called her instead of Owen, he hadn’t told her the real reason. He wasn’t sure how she’d take the news that Kellen had done something as foolish, impulsive, and hurtful as make a move on her younger son when he’d just been stricken with devastating news about her older one. Jane was a wonderful, loving woman, but she was fiercely protective of her sons, as she should be. And as much as Kellen longed to be hers, he would never be her son.

He reached the airport about an hour before Dawn was scheduled to land. Inside the parked Firebird, he pulled on the white T-shirt he’d tossed into the passenger seat over the gift-wrapped box that now seemed trivial, and then he hurried inside the busy terminal to wait. He wanted to make sure she knew he was sorry, sure she knew he’d never meant to hurt her, sure she knew he’d never cheat again. Not with Owen. Not with anyone.

He watched the departures/arrivals board, fixated on her flight data and its “on time” status. When her plane landed, he stood and stared at the spot where she was likely to emerge from the terminal. He knew it would be a while before she could make her way through customs, but he didn’t want to miss his first possible glimpse of her. Had it only been days since they’d parted? It felt like an eternity. His entire life had changed since he’d kissed her goodbye in this very airport, and so had hers. She’d do great with Everlong and Pierre, and Kellen knew how lucky he was that she’d put her career off for even a few days to be with him.

When he spotted her, his breath caught. Her gorgeous, deep red hair was tied back at her nape, accentuating her graceful throat. He wanted to press his face into that neck—breathe her in, taste her skin, feel her pulse race beneath his lips—but he held back, even when her eyes found him and she smiled. He had no right to touch her, to take what he wanted. Not when he’d betrayed her.

She raced forward and dropped her bags at his feet before capturing him in her arms. The leash he’d used to tether himself snapped. His trembling hands rose to cup her lovely face, and he searched her green-flecked eyes for signs of hurt or mistrust. He found none. She looked damned happy to see him. Lucky, lucky man, he told himself as he bent to accept the kiss she offered and he did not deserve.

When he drew away, he held her gaze as he said, “I’m so—”

She shook her head. “Give me a minute to be happy to see you before you remind me of what an ass you were in my absence.”

So she wasn’t going to let him off the hook. He silently thanked her for knowing her worth, for not giving him an easy out. He was so much harder on himself than she could ever be on him. She probably didn’t know she was doing him a favor by holding him accountable for his actions.

“Did you have a nice time in Prague?” he asked, kissing her again before she could answer, because she was beautiful and wonderful and caring and perfect and he just couldn’t help himself.

“I did. Wes followed me there. Did I mention that?”

Wes? Her agent? That seemed odd. “Do I have a reason to be jealous?”

“Of Wes?” When he nodded, she smiled. “Not unless you really wanted to see me perform.”

“Of course I did.”

“He’s happily married. And his wife was with him.”

“Then why was he—”

“To pressure me into signing that contract. Do you think I did the right thing?”

He kissed her crumpled brow. He really was an ass. She’d called him from Prague for reassurance about her life-changing decision, and he’d been so focused on himself, he’d basically brushed off her concerns.

“What’s done is done,” he said, and she tilted her head to look up at him.

She lifted both eyebrows. “I’m still not letting you off the hook, Kellen Jamison.”

“I wasn’t referring to what I did. I expect to do a lot of groveling.”

Her little smirk made his heart tremble. “Good. Grab my bags, will you? And point me in the direction of your car.”

He slung her carry-on over one shoulder and grabbed the handle of her small suitcase. His free hand sought hers and when she looked at him, he said, “Groveling will include lots of hand-holding, stolen kisses, lovesick looks, and oral pleasure.”

She bit her lip, the tiniest of moans escaping her, and allowed him to hold her hand as they made their way to his car.

“Do they even make these things anymore?” she asked as he opened the trunk of his perfectly restored ’73 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am.

“No, ma’am. It was my grandfather’s.” Most of the material possessions he loved and held dear had once belonged to his grandfather.

“Should have known you’d drive a badass car.” She grinned at him. “I didn’t think that Toyota was you.”

“That was a rental.” He stowed her luggage in the trunk and opened the passenger door.

She pointed at the small box on her seat.

“That’s for you,” he said. “When you’re ready to start hearing my apologies.”

She lifted the box before settling into the leather bucket seat and setting her gift on her lap. He waited a breath to see if she’d open it and when she didn’t, he carefully closed her door and ventured to the driver’s side. He took a deep steadying breath before climbing in beside her. She still hadn’t unwrapped the gift or even fingered the ribbon he’d tied in a complicated design around the box. She was staring straight ahead at the dashboard, as if opening the small token of his regret was her forgiveness and she wasn’t quite ready to take that step yet. He wouldn’t push her. He had no right to.

“Did you enjoy kissing Owen?” she asked quietly. The fist on her lap was clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white.

He could lie and lessen her pain, but she deserved to hear the truth. “Very much.”

“And you want him, don’t you?”

“Not as much as I want you.”

“And he wants you?”

“Not at all.”

Her tongue wet her lips. “He told you as much?”

“He hasn’t spoken to me since it happened. I’d say there’s my answer.”

Her finger traced the black ribbon crisscrossing the shiny red box. “I don’t think it’s the answer you believe it to be,” she said quietly, and then, as if she hadn’t spoken the most confusing words he’d ever heard, she asked, “Can we stop somewhere for lunch?”

“Whatever your heart desires.”

She reached over and covered his hand, which was gripping the steering wheel. “You. My heart desires you. That’s why all of this is so damned hard.”

Her lashes flicked upward, and all the hurt he’d expected to see in the terminal was now written in her troubled gaze.

“Your heart already has me,” he said.

“Then I want a hamburger.”

His snorted laugh was laced with agony. He hated that he’d caused her to doubt his feelings—his sincerity. Hated that he’d broken her trust.

“I love you.” The words slipped out before he could consider what he was saying or how it would make her feel at that moment.

Her hand slid from the back of his, but he caught it before she could take her touch from him, and pressed her knuckles against his thudding heart.

“You’re not allowed to say that to me right now,” she whispered, a single tear streaking down her cheek.

“Then I’ll just think it.”

She swallowed and turned to look out her window. He’d yet to start the car, so her view was of the big white SUV parked beside them. “I want fries too.”

He blew out a breath and released her hand so he could start the car. It roared to life, its familiar rumble steadying him as he shifted into reverse. They’d get through this. They had to. He couldn’t take another heartbreak.