Freya sat in the chair, listening to the quiet sounds of life all around her. The silence of the hotel room was different from the Queen’s Nest. Comforting, if there was such a thing.

Beyond that door, the FBI stood guard. Others were working furiously to figure out where Yuri Gabor was, what he was doing with Michelle, and a hundred other things Freya wasn’t ready to think about.

The sight of Charles, dead in the hanger, was trapped in the forefront of her mind.

He’d done that for her. A man she’d barely known, who believed in a version of her that hadn’t exist, had died so that she could get away. Charles hadn’t been a good man, but he’d done something selfless. He’d sacrificed himself for her.

She’d subjected herself to two months of being a prisoner, all for a sister who might as well have put her there.

Michelle should have been the person trying to get her free, to protect her. Not looking to profit over Freya’s captivity.

Instead, Jaxon and Charles were the ones fighting for her.

One was a stranger and a killer. The other was familiar and selfless. They both wanted something from her, though Jaxon hadn’t said so, she could feel it.

What did she do with that knowledge? What choices did she have? What came next?

Someone tapped on the door.

She flinched at the sound, so ready to be left alone. Weeks of solitude made being around a lot of people difficult. She’d never been terribly extroverted, unless it was for work, and now all she wanted was to be left with her thoughts.

Did she dare ignore the knock?

No, she didn’t. It could be news about Michelle or any number of other things.

What if it was Jaxon?

Freya sighed and pushed to her feet.

The cops had taken him aside, and then the FBI. They hadn’t had a chance to speak, but she knew he’d come looking for her. Because he always would. That was the kind of man Jaxon was. He was the guy who searched out the sick girl at the club and ensured she got water. He was the guy who walked people to their cars. Called cabs. Looked out for the waitresses and other staff. And he was the man who’d continue to watch over her for as long as she let him.

She peered through the peep hole and paused, holding her breath. She both wanted and dreaded seeing him.

That was not Jaxon.

Freya opened the door and stared into a familiar pair of blue eyes.

“Hello, dear.” Liv smiled back.

“Hi. What are you doing here?” Freya stepped back, allowing Liv to enter.

“Oh, once the boys told them what all happened, they asked me to come in. Or by, I guess.” Liv paused inside the room, hands in her back pockets. “How are you?”

“Alive?”

“That works.” Liv chuckled.

“Sit?”

“Thanks.” Liv perched on one of the queen beds. “I just wanted to check and see how you’re doing. Jax is pretty worried about you, but they still have him caged up.”

“Is...will he get in trouble?”

“Maybe? He’s got a rough past. Doesn’t make him look too good to people who don’t know him.” Liv lifted her shoulders.

“He was just trying to help me.” She chewed her lip. Jaxon had tried to tell her about his past, but she hadn’t listened. Hadn’t wanted to. Should she?

“He still did some bad things.”

Freya stared at the carpet. Jaxon had been forced into beating Donny up because she wouldn’t leave, because she’d prioritized saving her sister above her own safety. Had he wanted to?

“What kinds of things?” Freya asked softly.

“Being young and stupid. Trusting the wrong people.”

“What’d he do?” Freya lifted her gaze to Liv’s face.

“I only know the story secondhand, from his cousin. You should ask him yourself.”

“But I’m asking you.”

Liv sighed and glanced away.

“What did he do?” Freya asked again.

“Jax is a good boy, he just had a rough start of it, is all. His family...they don’t blame him for his dad killing his ma—”

“What?” Freya gaped at Liv.

“You...didn’t know?”

“He said they were dead, but he...” She hadn’t known. Oh, God, that was awful.

“Shit.” Liv winced. “Well, after that, he made some not-so-great friends, looking for a place to belong. He trusted the wrong people, who were doing bad things. One of the beautiful things about Jax is his loyalty to his friends, but when he’s faithful to someone like that, he’s also blind to the right or wrong of what they’re doing.”

“You still haven’t told me what he did.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.” Liv lifted her shoulders. “His so-called friends never let him join their gang because Jax was only half black, but he knew what they were doing, who they were doing it with, and so forth. He was going to go down for them until one of the guys beat up Andre, his cousin. That’s when Jax woke up and realized he’d trusted the wrong people. Given his loyalty to the wrong ones.”

“The cops don’t arrest people for nothing.”

“Hm, but to the cops they look at Jax’s light-brown skin and see a black man. He’s caught in two worlds, a foot in both, but neither accept him.”

Freya stared at the carpet. She’d never thought of it like that. Jaxon was always just...Jax. She should have recognized it sooner. She was the anthropologist, after all. People had drawn dividing lines over issues of skin color for hundreds of years, and for those who belonged to two sides, it could be an alienating lifestyle.

Would Jaxon get into trouble because of her? For her?

“It’s all my fault.” Freya shook her head. “All of this. It’s my fault.”

If she’d just kept her forensic job, if she’d gone to school, if she’d stayed away from the promoter job...maybe none of this would have happened.

“No, dear.” Liv sat next to Freya and looped her arm around Freya’s waist. “You can’t think like that. You made the choices you thought were right.” Liv gave her a squeeze.

“How could my own sister do this?”

“When money is involved, people do a lot of strange things.”

Freya swiped at her eyes. Michelle was her twin. She should be the one person Freya understood, but Michelle was now a stranger.

“You know what I found ironic?” Liv stroked Freya’s hair, a bemused smile curling the corners of her mouth.

“What?”

“That that club was called the Swan Palace. Do you know the story of the Swan Princess?”

“Wasn’t that a kid’s movie?”

“It was a Russian ballet first. The original story was about a sorcerer who kept beautiful women as swans. His prize swan was a princess, and every night, under the moon’s watchful gaze, she turned back into a human. It’s in the children’s movie where the sorcerer wants to marry the princess so he can become king. In both stories, the princess meets a prince who discovers how to turn her human again.”

“Do they live happily ever after?” Freya hated the bitter taste of that question.

“Depends on what version.” Liv shrugged. “In some she dies, in others she is killed and the prince dies of a broken heart, and in some, they do live happily ever after. That one’s my favorite.”

Freya stared at the carpet. It was a nice idea, but the truth was, reality was often cruel.

“Did Yuri pick the name, you think?” Freya asked.

“Possibly?” Liv lifted a shoulder. “I’ve known about Yuri Gabor since I was much younger. He’s a strange man.”

“You have?” Freya stared at Liv’s profile.

“When I was younger, I worked my way across Europe. Spent quite a while in Amsterdam. The working girls used to warn each other about him, that people who took jobs from him didn’t come back. Being a bartender, I heard more than others. The things he bartered in.” Liv shivered. “Yuri Gabor was a broken man. Hurting people hurt people, and he’s made a living off that. I hope he’s caught. I hope they find your sister.”

“Me, too.”

Freya might be hurt and angry with Michelle, but she wouldn’t wish her harm. Not the things Yuri might do to her because of Freya. Michelle had always struggled, and it didn’t excuse her actions but Freya at least understood them.

Michelle thought everyone was against her, even Freya. If Freya didn’t give Michelle what she wanted, Freya was the bad guy. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d told Michelle no for things. In Michelle’s eyes, Freya was likely the problem, because she wouldn’t accept that she needed to work on herself.

Maybe after this Michelle could get some help. Freya loved her sister, even if she didn’t understand her.

Another knock at the door. This time it didn’t startle Freya as it had when Liv was on the other side.

“I’ll see who it is.” Liv rose and crossed the room to the door. She whisked it open after the tiniest peak through the peep hole. “Jaxon.”

Freya shivered at the sound of his name.

“Hey, Aunt Liv.” Jaxon’s voice was heavy. Tired.

Freya gulped and clenched handfuls of the blanket.

“Give me a hug, you. They treat you all right?” Liv asked.

“Yeah, not too bad.” He paused and Freya could feel his gaze on her back.

Something was coming, and Freya didn’t know if she was ready for it.

“You mind if I talk to Freya alone for a moment?” Jaxon asked.

“Go ahead. I need to call and check on Taylor.”

“Hey, is it true?” Jaxon’s voice lilted up.  “Is Taylor really pregnant?”

“You’ll have to ask her for yourself.” Liv’s very voice seemed to smile.

Freya wanted to call out to Liv, ask her to stay, but it wouldn’t stall the inevitable. She didn’t know what to say to Jaxon, what she wanted, what was going to happen. She was as ill prepared for this moment as she’d been for anything in her life.

“Hey.” Jaxon crossed the room and sat across from her.

“Hey.” She kept staring at the floor.

“They taking care of you? You get something to eat?” Jaxon asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Nice shirt.”

Freya glanced down at herself. Someone had been kind enough to provide her with some yoga pants and a sweat shirt. They weren’t hers, but she felt more like herself dressed down than she had in a while.

What did she say to Jaxon?

Thank you?

I’m sorry?

I don’t know if this is a good idea?

When it’d been about forgetting what was going on, the nightmare she was living, she’d turned to him. But what if she wasn’t capable of returning the same level of emotions Jaxon felt? What if she was broken?

“I’m sorry about Michelle,” he said quietly. “It’s my fault. I yelled at her when I realized what was going on, and then... We shouldn’t have taken her here. I’m sorry, Freya.”

“You’re sorry?” She gaped at Jaxon, his words so unexpected.

Here he was again, thinking about others. Her sister. She wanted to shake him, tell him to think about himself more. Look at what putting her sister first had done to her.

“Yeah.” He stared at her, his hazel gaze hard. He’d shoulder that blame forever if she let him.

Freya leaned forward and grasped his hand in both of hers.

“You’ve done everything humanly possible to help me and Michelle. It’s not your fault, Jax. We had no idea what Michelle was doing. You can’t be responsible for that and...and neither can I.”

That was the crux of it.

Even now, Freya was looking at Michelle’s actions and seeing them as a reflection of herself.

They were not the same person. They were different, despite being born from the same womb and genetics. They’d chosen to be different.

“What’s wrong?” Jaxon asked.

“Give me a second?” She squeezed his hand, even as an invisible force squeezed her throat.

Jaxon couldn’t shoulder the responsibility for Michelle’s betrayal for the same reasons Freya had stopped giving her sister money and a couch to sleep on. Michelle had to own her mistakes and choices.

Freya opened her mouth, but no words came out. How did she begin to explain this huge, tangled thing she’d just lobbed at herself?

Jaxon stroked the back of her hand with his free hand.

“Liv told me about...your parents. And why the feds were questioning you so hard.” Freya peered up at Jaxon’s face.

He nodded, and his lips compressed into a tight line.

“How did you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Turn out so good.”

“I don’t know that I’d call myself good.” Jaxon grimaced.

“You’re a good guy, who has done a few bad things. It doesn’t mean you aren’t good.”

Jaxon lifted his shoulders and shook his head.

“The shit that went down with my parents... It wasn’t right. But it also wasn’t because of me. It didn’t include me. When I was younger, I didn’t understand, and I let it affect me, my choices, everything. It took me a long time to see that I was the...orchestrator of my own problems. No one was making trouble for me besides me.”

Freya stared at Jaxon, searching his face for more answers. “I look at Michelle, my parents, and I wonder...am I broken?” Freya dropped her gaze back to the floor. “The only loving, healthy relationship I’ve ever had was with Mom. Michelle...I thought we loved each other. I mean...we are sisters...”

“You can’t force a feeling.” He pressed his lips together, as though he were holding back.

“What if I never feel that? What if I’m broken?” She stared into Jaxon’s eyes. They were more gold than green now. What did that mean?

“You aren’t broken, Freya. You’ve been through a lot.” His words were gentle, but his gaze wasn’t. He was treating her with kid gloves and she didn’t like it.

“I want to feel something.” Besides the fear and anxiety eating at her.

“Just take it easy.”

“This isn’t a new thing, Jax. This is me. I’m...not wired right. I don’t feel things.”

“Sure you do. When we kiss, you feel something.” He smiled, but it was brief. A token effort.

“That’s not the same.” Her traitorous body warmed, but lust wasn’t the issue. She pulled her hands from Jaxon’s grip.

“Hey.” He snagged her by the wrist and tugged her hand back to his. “What do you think you should feel?”

“I don’t know...” She lifted her shoulders. She wouldn’t know the feeling if it bit her.

“What do you want to feel?”

Love.

Freya wanted to be loved and love. She wanted to care for someone who would care for her. But so far she’d struck out in that department.

Jaxon lifted her hand to his lips, caressing one knuckle and then the next with his mouth. She swallowed and pressed her thighs together. This was chemistry, not emotions. They weren’t one and the same. Not that she was going to tell him to stop. She was in desperate need of something—someone—to hold onto.

He tugged on her wrist, just a little pressure, but his intent was clear.

She let him pull her across the gap and into his lap. There was something comforting about being in his embrace.

He cupped her face and brushed his lips over hers.

Everything inside of her went gooey, and her breath stuttered out of her lungs. She leaned against him, ready to lose herself in this fleeting feeling.

“Here’s the thing about feelings...” Jaxon pushed her hair over her shoulder and cupped the back of her head. “They don’t stay the same. They change. And sometimes, they go away. When that happens, you have a choice. My parents were...they let their emotions destroy them. I didn’t understand how my aunt and uncle could look at each other and say I love you every day without throwing something at each other. That wasn’t the kind of love I was used to, until I realized that love—not lust, but love—is a choice. It’s choosing to love that person. Tell me, would you love your sister if she weren’t your sister?”

“We probably wouldn’t even know each other.” Freya stared at his shoulder.

“You chose to love Michelle. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He kissed her brow and blew out a breath. He was losing his patience with her. She could feel it like a line stretched too tight. “My aunt and uncle chose to love me, even when I didn’t deserve it. Maybe I still don’t deserve it. You aren’t broken, Freya. You just haven’t met someone who makes you want to choose.”

Except she did want to choose Jaxon. Some part of her did at least. She wasn’t sure if she could feel love, but she wanted to try.

He studied her face, and for the first time, Freya had to wonder just how little escaped him. She’d always seen him as more than a bouncer, but this kind of insight?

“You don’t have to want me, Freya. I didn’t go looking for you with the idea that I would get anything from you. I just... I saw what happened to Shelby, and the idea of that happening to you, too...” Jaxon shook his head. “I couldn’t wait around for someone else to find you.”

“I cried when I realized I’d missed our coffee date.” She stared at his shoulder. “They kept me knocked out in the beginning, but eventually I came around and saw someone’s phone. I really wanted to go on that date.”

“We can always re-do the rain check.”

“I want more, though.” She wanted what she heard girls talk about. The butterflies, the giddiness, all of that.

“You deserve it.”

“But what if I never feel it?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Freya.” His tone was sharp. He grimaced and continued with a gentler bent to his voice. “You aren’t broken. And you don’t have to feel anything you don’t want to.”

“But that’s just it. I want to.” She flattened her hand against his chest. “I see the way you look at me, and what you’ve done for me, and...I want...”

“Freya?” Jaxon flattened his hand over hers, his heart pulsing under her touch. “You were my friend, and you were in trouble. Just because I found you and did some possibly stupid things in the name of getting you out of there, doesn’t mean you have to feel any certain way about me.”

“We had sex.”

“And that still doesn’t mean you’re obligated to love me.”

“But you love me.” She peered up through her lashes at his face. He didn’t even flinch.

Jaxon stared at her, no denial passing his lips. He didn’t confirm her statement either. He simply gazed into her eyes, his easy acceptance of those words plain as day. He wasn’t hiding how he felt, and he never had. She reached deep within herself, looking for something more than a physical reaction.

“A friend might bring over a pizza and binge watch something when you’re down about stuff. What you did was more than that.” She knew the difference. She could sense the difference between them.

“You’ve been through a lot. There’s nothing that says you have to do, be, or feel anything right now. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Unless you choose to.” Jaxon’s eyes crinkled, but the smile didn’t touch his lips.

“What did I say?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s supposed to be my line.”

The joke fell flat. He didn’t crack a smile, there was no flicker of humor. “Okay.”

She slid off his lap and sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

Jaxon didn’t look at her. He chewed on his lower lip, lost in thought. He was right about one thing, they weren’t working off a time limit. One day at a time.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink? They want to keep me here for a while. At least until they figure out where Yuri has gone,” Jaxon said.

“Stay with me, please? I’m not ready to be alone.”

“I can’t do that, Freya.”

“Why not?” She fought down the rising panic. She needed him.

“I just—I can’t.” He stood.

“Jax, please?” She grasped him by the wrist and hauled herself up.

“Freya, I can’t listen to this bullshit, I’m broken, stuff tonight. Don’t ask me to. You’ve been hurt. I get it. I don’t need more, but you’ve got to stop hiding behind this idea that you’re...flawed. We’re all a little broken. It’s how we chose to pick up the pieces and move on that matters. You’ve said it yourself, and yet you won’t let go of this one thing. Because—why? It means being vulnerable? Getting hurt again? I don’t know. But when I look at you I don’t see flawed or broken. I see cautious and careful. There’s nothing wrong with that. I just wish...you saw yourself like I do.”

She stared at him, those words pelting her, but they didn’t hurt. They stung.

Freya tightened her grip on Jaxon’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Why? Maybe you’re right.” She swallowed and straightened her spine a bit.

“What I think doesn’t matter—”

“Bullshit.” She echoed him.

They stared at each other.

She’d admired Jaxon, his kindness, the way he handled people, his attitude, everything about him.

“I need you, Jax. Maybe you’re right. And you know what? If you are, I need to hear that. I need someone who will call me on my shit. If it’s going to be anyone, I want it to be you. Please, stay?”