“Ouch,” I hissed, turning the knob on the faucet to add some cold water to my bath.

“What’s happening?” Taryn’s disembodied voice echoed off the walls in the bathroom. “Tori?”

I’d avoided Taryn’s calls all day, but in a moment of weakness, after running headlong into my past, I’d answered the phone. The second my best friend heard the sniffle, she pressed me for details. And instead of keeping my mouth shut, it all poured out in a rush—starting with my freak-out in the parking lot and ending with Rhenn’s guitar. But now I was embarrassed and I just wanted to soak the stain of the day out of my pores.

“I’m fine,” I finally said. “Just setting the temperature for my bath.”

With a softer but no less demanding tone, Taryn asked, “Did you do your stretches first?”

My guilty gaze shifted to the exercise bands tossed haphazardly on the floor next to the bed. “Yep.”

The lie slipped out easily, with conviction. It was almost true, since I planned on doing the damn stretches before bed. Maybe.

I pressed my lips together to keep from groaning as I stood. Eight hours in a car and every muscle in my body was stiff. But I couldn’t admit that to Taryn. She was already threatening to hop on a plane and put an end to this farce.

“Did you eat?” she asked.

Ambling to the living room, I popped open the box of leftover kolaches. Picking through the contents, I found what I was looking for—jalapeño, sausage, and cheese. Kind of dinner-like. I took a bite. “Yep.”

She sighed. “What’s with the one-word answers, Belle?”

I dropped the pastry in the trash. “What’s with the third-degree, Taryn.”

We’d perfected this dance over the past five years. Taryn would push as far as I’d let her. But when I was done, I was done.

Before I could unload and tell her exactly how done I was, a knock at the door drew my attention. The interior door. I froze, hoping that Logan had knocked something against the wood by accident. Then I realized that “something” was probably a warm body. Another knock echoed, louder and more insistent.

“Is someone there?” Taryn’s voice rose in alarm as I padded toward the source of the tapping. “Belle, don’t answer it. What if —”

Yanking the door open, I looked up into pale blue eyes. Confusion lined Logan’s brow, as if he didn’t know why he was here, standing at my door with a pizza and a six pack of beer. And neither did I. The callous words he’d tossed out at the rest stop rolled and spun and tumbled around in my head. A soundtrack for my weakness and his disregard.

Swallowing hard, I lifted my chin and said flatly, “It’s nobody, Taryn. I’ve got to go. My bath is ready.” Ending the call, I folded my arms over my chest and glared up at Logan. “Can I help you with something?”

His gaze dipped to my chest, lingering on the logo of the lion’s head on my T-shirt. His T-shirt. I had the urge to rip the damn thing off and throw it at him. But I wasn’t even sure why. And while I stood there, fists clenched at my sides, mouth twisted in a frown, Logan used his cat like agility and brushed right past me.

I spun around, incredulous as he slid the pizza onto the table. Grabbing a beer, he dropped onto the sofa. “You can help me eat this pizza, for starters.”

A smirk hitched up one corner of his lips. It did nothing for me, that smile. Nothing but tie my tongue into knots and steal my words. The unmistakable sound of water meeting the tile floor snagged my attention. Sure enough, the suds were creeping toward the carpet at a steady clip.

“Goddamn it.” I moved without thinking, but Logan was quicker. Jumping to his feet, he headed toward the disaster before I made it two steps.

“Don’t move,” he said, looking over his shoulder at me as he turned off the faucet.

Ignoring his order— because what the hell was that about?— I continued into the room. Breaking our stare, he glanced down at my feet, which I didn’t realize were covered in bubbles. Repelled by the slick tile and slippery foam, I jumped back onto the safety of the carpet.

And that made it all the worse.

At twenty-one, I’d dived off a cliff in Hawaii. I’d swam with sharks, parasailed, and even bungee jumped. But now, the thought of what might happen if I fell the wrong way onto a hard surface turned my blood cold.

Arms folded over my middle, I dug my fingers into my sides. “I can do that,” I offered weakly when Logan reached for a large bath towel.

Shaking his head, he went to work sopping up the mess. For some reason, I didn’t move, my gaze roaming the length of his fit body. He was barefoot too, and he had on different jeans. Faded, with holes in the knees and frayed hems.

“You changed your clothes?”

“Yeah.” Slanting his baby blues in my direction, he tipped his chin to the living room. “Can you scrounge up some plates for the pizza?”

He was dismissing me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, so I lingered for a moment. Once I was sure I’d saved face, I wandered to the small kitchenette for the plates.

Easing onto the edge of the couch, I glanced at the open door adjoining our rooms. When I spotted the guitar leaning against the chair, my thumb skated over my fingertips reflexively. The skin was smooth now, with no hint of the callouses that once marred the surface.

And when had that happened?

Logan flopped down beside me, rousing me from my thoughts. He loaded a plate with two slices of pepperoni, which I took with a frown.

“What’s the matter, you don’t like pizza?” he asked, grabbing a slice for himself.

“Pizza’s fine. I just …” As I tried to think of an excuse, any reason to get him back in his room and out of mine, he handed me a napkin. I forced a smile. “Okay … thanks.”

He slid a beer in front of me, the same one he’d already opened, then reached for another. “Did you get things squared away with Taryn?”

So that’s why he was here. To make sure I had a plan that didn’t include driving halfway across the country in his vintage Mustang. I drew my legs under me. “Yep. It’s all handled.”

Pausing with the bottle halfway to his lips, Logan side-eyed me. Dammit. He wasn’t letting me off the hook, and after the shit show that was today, maybe I owed him an explanation.

“The rest of the bands are arriving tomorrow,” I went on, peeling off a slice of pepperoni so I had something to do with my hands. “I’ll catch a ride on the Leveraged tour bus.”

Tipping forward, he set his bottle on the table, then turned to look at me. “With Dylan?”

Narrowing his eyes, he waited for my reply.

“Yeah. That’s the best thing.”

Nodding like he was mulling it over, he flopped back against the cushions, arms crossed over his chest. “Is there something magical about the Leveraged tour bus that’ll keep you from, you know …”

As if he realized he may have cut too deep, he pressed his lips together. But I was in it now, so I tossed my plate on the table and threw his words from earlier back at him. “Freaking the fuck out?”

Something flashed across his features. Regret? From what I’d witnessed, Logan Cage didn’t do regret. It was anger. I would’ve bet money that the fragile truce we’d shared during most of our car ride was about to end. That he’d get up and stalk out.

Instead, he licked his lips and then said, “I didn’t mean it.”

With my features schooled into a mask of indifference, I blinked at him. “Which part?” Watching Logan try to cobble together a half-assed apology was more than I could take, so I shook my head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

I picked up my pizza and dug in. After a moment, Logan did the same. We ate in silence and when I’d finished my first beer, he was quick to offer me another. I made a grab for the bottle, but Logan didn’t let go.

His index finger glided over mine. Once. Twice. “I didn’t mean any of it, princess.”

The moment evaporated as quickly as it came, and he picked up the remote. “So what’s your pleasure?” he asked as he turned on the TV. “The Last Jedi or Thor: Ragnarok?”

Pins and needles raced up my arm, jolting me awake. Clenching my hand to get the blood flowing, I looked around. The On-Demand logo swam into view on the TV screen, the only light in the dark room. Drawing back slowly, I peered down at the body pressed to my side.

Tori burrowed closer, warm breath skating over the exposed skin above the collar of my T-shirt. Her hair smelled faintly of cinnamon and sugar. Like cookies fresh from the oven. And though that shouldn’t have turned me on, my aching balls didn’t get the memo.

A smarter man would’ve taken the girl in the bar up to her room for a quickie before I showed up at Tori’s door with my peace offering.

Was that what it was—a peace offering? Or an apology?

I cleared my throat. “Wake up, princess.”

Stop calling her that.

In the dark, it sounded more like a term of endearment than a thinly veiled insult.

Irked, I gave Tori a little shake, but instead of waking up, she started to topple over. Catching her at the last second, I gently repositioned her in the crook of my arm. Her head tipped back, exposing the one-inch scar on her throat. And just like at the rest stop, I wondered what it was and how it got there.

Pushing aside the bigger question—why the hell do you care?—I brushed my thumb over the raised skin.

Tori’s lids flew open like a vampire meeting the dawn, her lips parting on a gasp. “What are you doing?”

Since I’d already been caught red-handed, I had nothing to lose, so I traced the faded line again. “What is this?”

As the seconds elapsed, I waited for Tori to push me away. Instead, she sighed. “It’s where they inserted the trach tube after the accident.”

“What’s a trach tube?”

She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing beneath my touch as I continued to brush my thumb back and forth over her skin.

“I was choking when they found me. Bleeding internally, and I had a collapsed lung. So the EMTs put in a tube so I could breathe.”

A tremor shook her body, and her lids fluttered closed. My thumb dipped lower, ghosting over her collar bone and up the side of her neck, beckoning her back from that place in the past.

I knew I’d succeeded when her eyes popped open and she pushed herself to sitting. A second later she was off the couch, rubbing her arms like she had a chill.

“You should go. It’s late.”

With her cinnamon scent still lingering on my clothes, my mind jumped to places it shouldn’t, like what it would feel like to steal some of her sunshine and taste it on my tongue.

I hauled to my feet. “Yep.”

Tori gave me a wide berth as I headed for the door, but when I crossed the threshold she was on my heels.

“Night,” she said quickly.

I didn’t reply, just crawled into bed and waited for the creaking hinges and the snick of the lock. Twenty seconds. Thirty. A full minute passed, and it never came.

Sometime later when I finally drifted off, the door was still cracked, leaving a sliver of space between her world and mine.