“So...how was it?”

I looked up at Rhys and tried not to roll my eyes.

“How was what?” I asked, looking back down at the log book I’d been going over.

“Going home with your little dancer boy.”

“And who says I went home with anyone?”

“Dude, seriously?” Rhys laughed. “I watched you dry hump the fuck out of him and then drag his ass out of there. You going to try and convince me that you saw him home like a gentleman and then called it a night?”

I couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at my lips and tried to cover it up with a cough.

“What about you? Did you take that stud you were attached at the pelvis to home?”

“No, I went to his place. And stop stalling. You and Skylar fucked, didn’t you?”

“Yes. We went back to my place and fucked.” I put my pen down and stood up straight. “And?”

“And nothing. I’m happy for you.” Rhys grinned and clapped me on the shoulder. “When are you seeing him again?”

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“We didn’t make any plans.”

“I don’t get it. Was it terrible or something? Did you not click with him?”

“We clicked, and it was incredible. But I’m not looking for anything right now.”

“Zander—”

“Rhys, just drop it, okay? You know I’m not ready for anything beyond a hookup.”

Rhys looked at me for a long time before he nodded. I could tell he wanted to argue with me, but he wisely kept his trap shut.

There was one thing about Rhys that not a lot of people knew, or got to see — he was extremely empathetic. It was almost as though he could feel what you were feeling. If you were hurting, he hurt with you. If you were happy, then he experienced all the positive emotions that you did.

I didn’t know if it was a gift or a curse, but it was the reason he covered his caring nature with jokes and an acid sense of sarcasm.

I’d only known Rhys for just over a year, ever since he came to work at the bar, but he’d saved my life. I knew it was a dramatic way to look at it, but it was the truth.

Six weeks after we’d been introduced, I’d fallen into a deep depression when a particularly painful anniversary had arrived. I’d managed to pretend I was fine, just sad and angry, but inside I’d been dying.

I’d finished a shift at work and gone home to my empty house. All I could feel was despair, and the downward spiral of pain had been overwhelming. The voice inside my head that usually told me to pick my socks up and keep going turned on me, and all I could think about was stopping the pain.

Stone sober and in a daze I’d gone to my gun safe and gotten the 9mm handgun I’d bought for self-defense years earlier. I’d dug out the only box of bullets I owned and loaded a single bullet into the magazine.

The rest of what happened is a little hazy. I remember sitting on my bed with the barrel of the gun in my mouth, but I wasn’t afraid. The thing that really stuck out in my mind wasn’t the fact that I’d been about to put a bullet in my brain, it had been the metallic taste of the gun.

I may have started a countdown; I honestly can’t remember, but then my phone had rung.

Thankfully, the shrill ringtone hadn’t spooked me into pulling the trigger, but it had knocked me into reality. That phone call had symbolized that I wasn’t alone. That there were other people out there in the world, and while I was hurting, it didn’t mean I didn’t have anyone.

I’d answered in a fog, and it had been Rhys on the other end of the line. Even now I have no idea how he’d known, but he’d said one simple sentence to me, and his words still echoed in my mind to this day.

I promise that as bad as it feels right now, it will get better.

I’d clung to those words like a lifeline and had managed to tell Rhys my address. He’d come over, and after sitting with me for almost an hour in silence, I’d told him everything about the day, what had happened five years before, and what I’d been about to do.

Rhys had cried with me but hadn’t offered any empty platitudes or assurances, or tried to silence me. He let me cry, rant, and then rave about how unfair the world was. And when I was finally spent and my body started to shut down, he’d sent me to bed and slept on my couch to make sure I wasn’t alone.

The next day I’d asked him to take the gun away, and he’d never mentioned my near suicide to anyone. Talking to Rhys, letting someone in and having them care, even though they didn’t really know me, triggered something deep inside me, and I’d finally found the courage to admit that I wasn’t okay.

I’d gone to Evan and told him I’d needed help. He’d found me a psychologist to talk to, and after almost seven months of therapy, I’d finally felt like myself again.

I hadn’t purposely hidden everything from the other guys at the bar, I’d just kept it to myself, and Evan and Rhys had respected my wishes.

In truth, I wasn’t the only one at the bar who had something horrific to overcome. What Cody and Blaze had gone through both broke my heart and made my blood boil for the loss of their childhoods and innocence. Rhys had dealt with his share of heavy shit, and Tristan was still struggling from the effects of being at war.

Hell, Evan had had it worse than me, and even Layla had gotten out of a fucked-up situation and come out the other side as one of the most giving and loving women I’d ever met.

We were a ragtag bunch, but we were family, fucked-up lives and all.

“So what about you? You going to see your dance partner again?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“If he calls.” Rhys shrugged. “I have a feeling he’s getting over someone, and I’ll gladly volunteer to be his rebound for as long as he needs.”

“You’re shameless.” I chuckled and looked back down at the log book.

“You know it.” He laughed and turned to look out at the bar. “It’s going to be a slow night.”

“It’s looking that way.” I nodded and glanced up. “Want to see if Jorge has any of his creations lying around?”

“You’re an enabler.”

“Says the guy who spends half his life in the gym.” I reached over and poked him in the abs with my pen. “What do you have now, an 8-pack?”

“Almost.” He grinned. “But I’ll have a keg if you keep bringing that crap out around me.”

“You can always say no.” I closed the log book and tucked it under my arm. I’d have plenty of time to check on the inventory later if it didn’t pick up.

“When have you ever heard me say no to anything, or anyone?” Rhys cocked his eyebrow at me playfully.

“Never.”

“Exactly. Why start now.”

Still laughing, I headed into the kitchen to see what kind of deep-fried delight Jorge, the head cook, was currently working on.

* * * * *

TWO WEEKS AFTER MY night at Chimera, and with Kai, I had yet to get him out of my head. I’d had my share of hookups in the last six years, way more than my share for a little while as I’d been dealing with my grief and guilt. During that time I’d been with more guys than I could remember, literally since being sober hadn’t been on my priority list, and they’d all just been bodies to fuck.

I hadn’t cared about them, and they hadn’t given a shit about me. It was about getting off and then going our separate ways.

Kai was different.

He was the first man I’d needed to have since I’d met Kaden, the man I’d planned to spend my life with. It was true that it was Kai’s looks and his dancing that had piqued my interest, but the attraction I’d felt for him had gone far beyond lust and into something primal, almost obsessive.

I would have been happy with the memories of his lithe body moving around the stage in that inherently sensual way he’d obviously been born with, but then he’d sought me out.

He’d been a little shy beneath his bravado, and there was a shred of innocence I hadn’t expected. He’d also been completely open. If he’d tried to hide anything from me, he’d failed. His eyes, those incredible crystal-blue eyes, had betrayed every emotion and thought that had crossed his mind, and that vulnerability had been beautiful.

He’d been in the moment with me, playing off my energy and giving and taking like we’d been together countless times. There was no fumbling or awkwardness that usually came with a random hookup, and he’d asked before touching me.

I never let anyone do that, not since Kaden, and Kai had been perfect.

A part of me regretted taking him from behind. Hearing the sounds of pleasure he made, watching the muscles in his back flex as I’d brought him closer to orgasm had been fucking hot, but I wished I’d had a chance to see what was going on in those beautiful eyes of his and had the chance to see his pleasure as it washed over his features.

But it was too late. It didn’t matter that I’d felt a connection to someone for the first time in six years. It didn’t matter that it was the first time since Kaden that I’d thought more about my partner’s pleasure than my own, and it definitely made no difference that he was the only other man to get inside my head in sixteen years.

None of that mattered.

I wasn’t ready or looking for anything more than sex, and that was only when my right hand just wasn’t doing it for me anymore. I could tell Kai was different, I felt that he was special, but he wasn’t for me. He deserved someone who wasn’t ten levels of fucked up and could be open and free with him.

That Zander was gone, and he was never coming back.