Facebook was the modern equivalent of a masquerade.

Zeph didn’t know a lot about that kind of history, but he imagined people put on facades about how well their merchanting or piracy businesses had gone while they looked prettier than usual with powdered lead and slowly killed themselves.

Exactly like Facebook: people carefully constructing images of their perfect lives, perfect relationships, perfect jobs, perfect looks. In reality, it was the people who weren’t on Facebook—the celebrities and bodybuilders and superstar charity volunteers and whatever—who got all the praise.

A lot of athletes shared his point of view, either because they were naturally more outdoorsy and active, or because they’d deliberately cultivated a single-minded focus on their own particular discipline.

That wasn’t to say Zeph never used Facebook himself. He’d shared his account name with some of the queens that week. But he usually browsed without commenting, if he was on there at all.

Especially now that he had… well, some reason to avoid the damn site.

But his feed didn’t have anything from River, so he relaxed as he scrolled down it, a beer in his hand. Until he hit the posts: Glam, RB, and a lot of names he didn’t recognize commenting on a post by Tina about River. The top reaction type was sad.

His heart jolted with fear for a second as he skimmed it.

For those of you who know River, word’s already spread that he was attacked yesterday. That rumor is true but he wanted me to tell you all he’s fine.

The comments were horrified, shocked, seeking details or offering solidarity. But there were no more details about what exactly had happened.

Fuck. Last night, after he’d dropped River off? What the fuck had happened in those few hours? He could only assume it was some homophobic dimwit, but maybe it was worse. An ex? Another stalker? Surely to God not the same stalker?

Zeph’s grip on his bottle was so tight his knuckles were white. He took a breath and acknowledged the thought at last: if he’d agreed to continue with their… deal, affair, whatever you wanted to call it… would River not have been hurt? Maybe he’d been out getting some and hit on the wrong guy. Maybe, maybe, a hundred maybes, and he’d never get an answer.

Just like Anton. If he’d been around that night, maybe that car crash never would have happened. He’d kicked himself endlessly since then over the years, wishing he’d been a little more attentive, a little more thoughtful.

This was his chance to make up for it. It wasn’t just his attraction to River, on whatever the hell level that existed—as friends, or the forbidden allure of exes, or the new feelings River had brought up in him. It was repentance.

Zephyr North, of all people, seeking repentance. It hurt to smile about, but he did anyway.

Fuck, there was no good way out of this. Zeph closed his laptop and rubbed his temples as he set his beer aside, untouched but for the first couple gulps. He tried to think through his options.

If Zeph showed up, it would look like he was trying to get close out of pity to soothe his ego after the sting of rejection. But he didn’t want River to go through all of this—first the Vegas stalker, now whatever the fuck this had been—alone.

Nobody deserved to be alone, least of all River, and at the same time, nobody was more likely to push everyone else away and insist on taking the brunt of it by himself.

That was stupid. Zeph was fully capable of protecting River, but if he didn’t want his help…

Oh. That was it. Zeph sat up straight, catching his breath as the plan formed.

He could teach River self-defense. Not just street fighting, the kind that got him out of dive bars safely, but the kind that would help him flip an attacker over his shoulder and serve him his balls on a platter.

And if they wound up sharing more like they had over the last couple weeks… Zeph rubbed his chin as he pushed himself to his feet, trying not to let any specific memories distract him and necessitate a detour to the bathroom.

Well, he wouldn’t turn River down a second time.

And after what had happened to Anton, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake. It was up to River to accept help, but he was going to be there and make the offer.

Just as long as River didn’t take it the wrong way.