Nina:

I show up at Zane and Scott’s home at precisely six on Thursday evening. I’ve spent another restless night, and my eyes are scratchy with lack of sleep, but my heart is hardened. I don’t know what they’re playing at with the apologies and the love songs, but I’m not interested in finding out.

Five nights. I just have to survive them, and they’ll be gone from my life forever.

This is just about sex, Nina. You always had a good time in bed with them. Put your emotions on lockdown, and you’ll be fine.

Scott opens the door. He’s wearing a suit that probably costs as much as I pay Dr. Bollington in rent each month, and underneath, a white shirt. No tie. “Hey Neen,” he says easily. “Come on in.”

“Should I have dressed up?” I assumed we were just going to make out in the bedroom upstairs, but unless Scott suits up for the big bang, I’ve read them wrong.

His eyes rake over me, taking in my dark jeans and my red hooded jacket. “You’re fine.” A smile tugs at his lips. “You look like Red Riding Hood.”

An answering smile breaks out on my face, as much as I try to resist it. “Does that make you the big bad wolf?”

He chuckles. “As I recall, the big bad wolf was very interested in eating Red out.”

“I think he was interested in eating her, Scott. Not eating her out.”

“Semantics,” he says, an amused grin on his face. “Come on in. Zane’s in the kitchen. We have time to grab a drink before we leave.”

He takes my coat, and I follow him into the house, my skin prickling with anticipation.

On Tuesday, I’d been too angry to look around, but today, I survey the house curiously. The main floor is a square open-concept space, with a kitchen running along one wall, and large glass doors leading into the back yard. The house is clean and tidy, and the furnishings are impeccable. It doesn’t fit with anything I know about Scott or Zane. Then it strikes me. Of course. Zane’s dad’s company built the subdivision. “This is the model home, isn’t it?”

Zane is wearing a suit too, a gray plaid one that fits him like a glove. His head is bent over a board of cheese, but he looks up when he hears my voice. “It is,” he says. “My dad’s the real-estate developer. I’m house-sitting until we sell the units.”

Maggie had said the same thing. “That’s why you’re in New Summit?” When Zane confirms the real reason they’re here, a sharp stab of disappointment goes through me. “You aren’t here to stalk me?”

“Stalking isn’t exactly my style,” Zane replies, crooking two fingers at me. At that gesture, a shaft of lust pierces me. I’d forgotten how gorgeous they were. I’d forgotten the carnal heat that always burned between us.

“Drink, Neen? There’s an open bottle of Syrah, or there’s a six-pack of craft brew in the fridge. The porter’s pretty good.”

Zane’s a beer snob. “If you say the porter’s good, the porter it will be,” I respond. I steal a slice of cheddar from his board while I wait for him to pour. I need a minute to gather my composure; I’m still shaken by the electric bolt of desire that ran through me.

“Hungry? We’ve packed a picnic, but if you’re starving, I can fix you something to eat before we leave.”

A picnic? Those words cool my awkward lust. It’s freezing. There’s a dampness in the air that makes the cold even worse, and I can’t think of a more horrible day to eat outside. Are they trying to kill me? “It’s winter,” I say plaintively. “I didn’t think that hypothermia was part and parcel of these games.”

Zane laughs at me. “We’re not going to make you eat outside, Neen. I know you’re terrified of the cold.”

Zane’s forefathers are from Iceland. He’s got Viking blood in him. Me? Not so much. “I’m not terrified,” I retort. “I have proper respect for the outdoors. You won’t catch me taunting Mother Nature.”

Scott hands me a beer in a glass, and I take a sip. As I expected, it’s exceptional. “So we’re going to have a picnic, but not outside. What are we doing tonight?”

“We’re going to take a trip,” Scott replies blandly. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you back by six in the morning.”

That’s the least of my worries. I’m much more concerned with what’s going to happen in the hours between now and six.

But I know Scott and Zane, and if they’ve made up their minds that they aren’t going to tell me, there’s nothing I can say that’ll make them change their minds. Instead of trying to fight an uphill battle, I eat another piece of cheese. Might as well. I never met a cheddar I didn’t love.

While I sip at my drink, we sit on the couch and catch up. “Tell us about the Merry Cockatoo,” Scott asks me, his blue eyes locked on mine. “When did you open it?”

“Fifteen months ago,” I reply.

“Five months after you left us.” Zane surveys me. “You spoke of opening a bar many times, but I didn’t think you had enough money set aside to open one right away.”

“I didn’t.” The second rule of the game is honesty. “My father gave me a start-up loan.”

“Are you talking again?” Scott asks me. “When we were together, I was under the impression that you were estranged from your family.”

“It’s complicated.” I stare into my beer. I’ve never told Zane and Scott the complete story. Even when we were together, I would dance around the subject of my family.

Admit it, Nina. It wasn’t just their tour schedules that killed the relationship. You didn’t entirely open up to them either.

“In what way?” Zane leans back against the couch. If I reach out, I’ll be able to touch him, feel the warmth of his skin under my fingers. It’s tempting. So many times, after a show or a long practice session, the three of us would sit around, sample beer and eat cheese. Even though almost two years has passed, this is a familiar ritual, one etched into my heart.

That’s in the past, Nina.

“My mother died when I was thirteen,” I mutter. “Cancer. She wasted away for two years. It was pretty hard on my dad, I thought, but he remarried within six months. Two months after that, Joanne gave birth to twin boys.”

Their eyebrows rise as they do the math and realize that my dad was cheating on my mother while she was dying. “I was angry,” I mumble. “I felt replaced by Jacob and Joshua. My dad didn’t have time for me anymore. So I acted out. I got into trouble a lot, and in response, my father and step-mother got stricter with me. When I was seventeen, I ran away to Boston.”

Scott’s expression is understanding, as I knew it would be. His relationship with his family is similarly troubled. His parents were distant; Scott was raised by nannies. When his father died, his mother moved to Ireland. “She’s on husband number three,” he’d said once when I’d asked, and his tone had warned me not to probe further.

“Are things better now?” Zane asks. Out of the three of us, Zane’s the one with the most normal home life. I met his parents and sister when they came out to watch Evolving Whistle on tour, and their warm affection had only reinforced how much I lacked.

“Somewhat.” My father’s focus is still Jacob and Joshua. I’m the troubled daughter that he doesn’t know what to do with, so he soothed his conscience by loaning me the money to start the Merry Cockatoo. I’m not ungrateful, don’t get me wrong. I love the Merry Cockatoo, but when I hear my dad gush about how well the twins are doing at basketball, I want to scream and point out that he never attended a single game of mine after mom got sick. “Things are as good as can be expected, given the circumstances.”

Zane rises to his feet. “It’s time to head out,” he says abruptly.