Cole walked into the bar to meet Draven. He’d missed him these last couple of weeks, not least because he wanted to sound him out about Millie.

Since their sailing trip, he’d kept his distance. When she’d kissed him, he’d dared to hope that, finally, he could tell her how he really felt. Then she’d trotted out that soul-crushing line about whoever he ended up with being lucky to have him. If that didn’t give him a message that she didn’t see herself fulfilling that role, he didn’t know what did. The kiss had meant nothing, at least to her—a way of thanking him for giving her a place to stay, for seeing off Tanner, for taking her sailing, maybe—who the fuck knew? Not him.

Keeping his distance didn’t stop the deep ache in his chest or the whirring inside his head that stopped him from sleeping at night as he strained to hear her breathing on the other side of the wall. Or how his thoughts strayed far too often to what it would be like to have her in his bed, lying beneath him.

He’d just taken a seat at the bar and ordered two beers when a large hand clapped him on the back.

“Sup, dickhead,” Draven boomed. Several people nearby glanced over. One look at the bearded, tattooed giant, though, and they couldn’t avert their eyes fast enough.

“My fucking dinner if you whack me like that again,” Cole said, unable to keep the grin off his face as they shook hands. “How did the vacay go?”

Draven shrugged out of his leather jacket and dumped it on the floor, because hanging it on the back of the chair was too much effort. He picked up a bottle and swung it by the neck in Cole’s direction.

“It went. Cheers.” He took a long swig, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Needed that.”

“Relatives, huh?”

Another swig, a swallow. A sigh. “Erika’s knocked up.”

Cole jerked his head back. “Erika? As in your sixteen-year-old sister, Erika?”

Draven nodded. “The very same.”

“Fuck… Is the guy still alive?”

His attempt at a joke worked, because Draven’s lips twitched. “Fucking little madam won’t tell us who the father is. Ma is working on her.”

“I’m not surprised she won’t fess up. She’s trying to save a life.”

“I wouldn’t actually kill him.” His lips pulled to the side. “I’d rip his fucking dick off, though, then make him eat it.”

Cole laughed. “And you wonder why she’s keeping her mouth shut.”

Draven gave a gruff laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, enough of my fucking troubles, what’s going on with you? Managed to get into the lovely Millie’s panties yet?”

Cole laced his fingers together and rested them on the bar. “It’s complicated.”

Draven rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you, man. Think of your dick like a muscle. You don’t use that fucker, it’ll shrivel up and die.”

“I do use my dick.”

“Yeah, to piss out of. That doesn’t count.”

“Fuck off.”

Draven threw back his head and guffawed. “Round one to me. Seriously, though, have you made any inroads, or are the goods still strictly off limits?”

Cole brought Draven up to speed about Tanner, Millie confessing the years of abuse, her moving into the hotel, the sailing trip. The kiss.

And then the brush-off.

By the time he’d finished, there’d been one good outcome: Draven had stopped ribbing him about his underused equipment.

“That’s a lot of shit to go down. Christ, I was only away two weeks.”

“Tell me about it,” Cole agreed.

“Has the husband been around since?”

“No. At least not that I’m aware of.”

“And like a complete pussy, you’ve avoided talking to her about why she kissed you.”

“I’ve given her space,” Cole said.

Draven coughed out a “Bullshit.”

“Okay, Casanova. How would you handle it?”

Draven played with his beard while he considered Cole’s question. “I’d ask her straight up why she kissed you. No point fucking about.”

He could do that, but what if he broached the subject and opened himself up to a world of hurt because she admitted it had been a fucking big mistake? But then the uncertainty of not knowing was driving him crazy. The big bastard was right, not that Cole enjoyed admitting it too readily.

He let out a sigh. “Okay, I’ll talk to her. Tomorrow.”

Cole woke on Saturday morning with a slight hangover and a firm resolve. He’d decided to ask Millie if she wanted to go out for breakfast. He couldn’t exactly have this conversation here. Too many potential interruptions, especially as it was the weekend. He’d rather have waited until the evening and take her out for dinner, but he had a twelve-hour shift beginning at four that afternoon.

He showered and dressed. Opening his bedroom door, he found the living room unusually empty. With a hope they could escape before the rest of his family descended, he tapped on Nate’s bedroom door.

“Millie, you in there?”

Footsteps padded across the floor. She drew back the door.

“Oh, hey. Aren’t you working today?”

“Later on. I wondered if you wanted to grab some breakfast? Sorry I’ve not been around much. I’ve been working back-to-back shifts.”

Liar.

A definite look of relief crossed her face. “And there was me thinking you’d been avoiding me.”

I have. And seeing your relief, I deserve a punch in the face for it.

“So, breakfast?” he repeated, ignoring her correct assessment of his behavior since the sailing trip.

“Sure. Let me get my sneakers on. Come on in.”

Although she was staying in his brother’s room, and he’d been inside lots of times, it felt weird. He glanced around, noticing the odd little feminine touches she’d added. A photo frame on the nightstand with a couple in their late fifties. A small reed diffuser on the dresser, which smelled of lemon, thyme, and rosemary.

“I hope it’s okay to have a few personal things scattered around,” she said, clearly spotting him checking out the room. “It’s nothing that can’t be cleared away in a few minutes.”

“Of course it is.” He wandered across to the nightstand and picked up the photograph. “Your parents?”

She nodded. “Now that Tanner hasn’t been back, I’m hoping to visit them at their house soon.”

Seeing an opening, Cole asked, “He hasn’t been in touch then?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

Her lips lifted slightly when she bent down to tie her sneakers. By the time she straightened it had disappeared. She slung her purse over her shoulder. He stepped forward, removed it, then placed it over her head, fixing the strap diagonally across her body. Her brow furrowed into a frown.

“I’m a cop, remember. Safety first.”

He released the collar of her jacket from beneath the strap, his thumb skimming the delicate skin of her neck. He paused. Their eyes met. For the briefest moment, he could have sworn she leaned in, and then she readjusted the strap and took a step back.

“Ready when you are.”

Dammit. Another opportunity lost.

They grabbed a bite to eat in a small café and then went for a walk in Central Park. The pathways were filled with people exercising their dogs, joggers braving the last of the summer heat, tourists on bikes whizzing by. Cole stopped by a bench and indicated for her to sit.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “That sounds ominous.”

“You were right before. I have been avoiding you.”

“Oh?” Her fingers fiddled with a stray piece of cotton on her floaty white top.

“I need to know what’s going on, between us, I mean.”

Her eyes widened. “Us?”

He rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “I don’t mean us, us. I mean… Jesus, fuck.”

Her lips curved into a small smile. “Spit it out, Cole.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Her eyes widened, and she nervously slid her fingers beneath the collar of her jacket, as though she found it too tight. “Oh. Um. I thought that might have upset you.”

He gently cupped her chin, tilting her face up to his. “It didn’t upset me but it did confuse me. I’m not sure what you meant by it.”

She expelled a soft sigh, her teeth nibbling inside her cheek. “Honestly, I don’t know. I guess I saw something in you, a warmth, a tenderness maybe. I don’t think I’ve ever been looked at like that in my whole life. And with what I’ve gone through with Tanner…” She tugged her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger, which drew his eye to her mouth. “Like that. You’re doing it again. I guess I just needed to feel…like someone saw me. Not just Tanner’s downtrodden wife. Me.”

His heart stuttered, a staccato beat that stole his breath. He raised a hand to her face and caressed his knuckles across her cheek.

“I see you.”

Before Millie could respond, a hand grabbed Cole by the shoulder and yanked, hard.

“Don’t touch what you don’t fucking own.”

Cole regained his balance and launched to his feet, facing Tanner, fury racing through him, not just at the fact that Tanner had dared to put his hands on him, but because he’d said owned in relation to Millie.

“Are you fucking following us?” Cole accused, his jaw jammed tight, fists clenched, ready to break the fucker’s nose. Cop training be damned.

Millie leaped up beside him.

“Cole, don’t.” She took hold of his arm. “I don’t want you to lay a finger on him.”

And then she put her body between them. She fucking stood between them. Her hand went to Cole’s chest, her eyes pleading with him to stay calm.

“What do you want, Tanner?” she asked, turning away from Cole.

“I want you back.”

Cole ground his teeth. He moved to the side, ready for action the moment Millie needed him. Because, fuck, did he want to wipe the smug grin off that bastard’s face.

“Why?”

Cole’s eyes widened. He had not expected that question.

“Because I love you. Because I know I’ve not been the best husband. Because I want a second chance to make it all right.”

That did it. Cole couldn’t keep quiet a second longer. “You don’t fucking love her. Love isn’t abuse, or control, or ownership.”

“Cole, please.” Millie touched his arm again and gave a slight shake of her head.

The fuck is going on here?

“Don’t tell me you’re considering listening to his bullshit?”

“I’m sorry,” Tanner said, playing the contrite card to perfection. “He’s right. I haven’t loved you the way you deserved, or taken care of you, or treasured you. But you leaving has given me the wake-up call I needed. I’ll do anything to get you back. Anything. Please just give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“You hurt me, Tanner. Over and over. You chipped away at my self-esteem until I was barely a shadow of the girl you married. You said terrible, hateful things. You made me fear you. That’s not love.”

“Baby, I’m sorry.” The little shit caught her hand and pressed it against his chest—and she let him. “We had some good times, Millie. Some great times. I know we can have that again. I’ve been stressed, that’s all. You know how difficult it’s been for me to stand on the sidelines and watch all those young players live my dream. To know I could have had it all and have everything I’d worked years for snatched away. Please, baby. I’m only asking for a chance to talk. We’ve given each other ten years. Can’t you give me one more hour?”

A bolt of fear raced through Cole when she bowed her head. Chilled to the bone, despite the heat of the late summer day, he knew. She was going to go back to Tanner. He could see it in the curve of her shoulders, the lack of eye contact, the staring down at her feet.

“Okay, let’s talk,” she said, her tone full of defeat, of acceptance.

Tanner gave him a triumphant smirk and threw his arm around Millie’s shoulder which, by the way, she didn’t shake off. As they started to walk away, she glanced over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed, and then she left him—again.