I was in trouble. Not the kind that required an ultrasound and a gynecologist. No. This was much worse. This was catastrophically worse.

Staring down at the screen of my phone, my heart leapt in my chest as I read then reread the message that just popped up on my screen.

Hunter: Your breasts were fucking delicious last week, HC. I can still taste your thighs on my tongue.

Red-faced and paranoid, I looked around the café at least another half dozen times before plucking up the nerve to reply.

Hope: Well, I hope you enjoyed my 'breasts' and 'thighs', asshole, because that's the last meal I will ever cook for you!

I pressed send and continued to stare down at my phone, watching the little dots bounce around the bottom of the screen, letting me know that Hunter was writing a response.

Hunter: Fine. I'll cook for you next time. I'll let you sample my sausage. Le Cock De Lucky. In English that translates to Lucky's Cock. You'll need to work up an appetite though. I've been told it's bigger than most.

Jesus! I blanched at his crude response and hurried to type out a reply.

Hope: Okay, that's not funny. You need to stop or I can't text you anymore.

Hunter: Why?

What did he mean why?

He knew very well why!

Hope: Because I'm married and flirting with me is inappropriate. And especially considering what happened between us at Halloween!

Hunter: What happened between us at Halloween?

Now he was playing with me.

Purposefully pushing my buttons.

Hope: Do you want me to spell it out?

Hunter: Please do. I love it when you go all bossy-writer on me and spell shit out. It's so fucking hot.

Oh my god.

Hope: You're unbelievable.

Hunter: You have no idea what unbelievable means, HC. But you will…

Hope: Oh really?

Hunter: Really.

Hope: Now you're boring me with all your talk!

Hunter: You left me that night. I had a whole night of action planned for you.

Hope: Stop it.

Hunter: Admit it. You still want me.

Hope: I mean it. Stop!

Hunter: You're thinking about it now, aren’t you? What you ran out on that night. It's driving you insane.

No. No. No. I needed to stop this and fast.

Hope: Goodbye Hunter.

Hunter: I'll be seeing you real soon, HC.

Hope: Why do you keep doing that?

Hunter: ???

Hope: Why do you keep calling me HC?

Hunter: I like it. It suits you. And we have the same initials. Talk about fate. ;)

Hope: You're crazy.

Hunter: It's possible. But it excites you. By the way – have you thought anymore about my offer?

Hope: Your offer?

Hunter: To have sex with you. It's still on the table.

Hope: This… you and me? We are NEVER going to happen.

Hunter: Never say never, HC.

"Are you okay?"

The sound of Jordan's voice pierced through my thoughts and balked. "Yes!" I squeezed out before tossing my cell into my purse. "I'm… fine." I could hear my phone vibrating and it took everything in me to resist the urge to grab it and read the message.

"You sure?" Jordan asked as he sat across from me, his intelligent green eyes focused on what I was sure was my scarlet colored face.

Inhaling a deep, steadying breath, I pushed Hunter Casarazzi to the back of my mind, choosing to focus on my husband instead. "I'm sure."

Happy to let it go, Jordan placed a triple expresso on the table in front of me. "Enough coffee for the author?" he joked, relaxing back in his chair.

"I don’t think I deserve to be called an author," I murmured as I took a sip. "I'm still blocked." I hadn't written more than a chapter in months. Not a single one. "This has never happened to me before," I added with a frown. Whatever I felt, I wrote it down. I channeled my pain into words and splashed that shit all over the paper like a boss bitch. Not lately though… No, lately, I seemed to be broken.

Leaning back in his seat, Jordan continued to observe me as he nursed his mug of black coffee with both hands. "What's the cause of this dry spell?"

I choked on my coffee, spluttered and heaving loudly.

Dry spell didn’t even come close to describing my sex life...

My phone vibrated again.

Dammit!

Jordan leaned forward in concern. "Hope, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I squeezed out, cheeks flaming red, as my phone vibrated for the third time. "I'm good."

I knew the cause of the dry spell.

I was agitated.

Fine, I was horny.

Okay, so I was horny and agitated and maybe even hangry.

I hadn't eaten breakfast this morning and I had been without sex for years.

"Hope." Leaning forward, Jordan covered my trembling hand with his and smiled. "If you need something from me, you only have to ask." His fingers trailer over the skin covering my pulse and I shuddered in pleasure. "I want to help you." Intelligent green eyes watched my every move. "We're a team now."

God, he was so beautiful.

So beautiful and broken.

I needed to remember that.

Shaking my head in disgust, I scolded myself for being an inconsiderate bitch. My husband was going through hell as he fought his demons. I was being selfish, thinking about my needs. "I'll get over it," I told him, slapping a bright smile on my face. "Don’t worry."

Jordan gave me a look that told me he wasn’t entirely convinced. "You're okay, though, aren’t you, Hope?" he asked, voice deceptively soft. "You're happy?"

"I am," I assured him, wishing I could mean what I was saying. But something inside of me had changed.

My heart, in the eight years we had been apart, had molded into a different shape and didn’t quite beat for him the same way it used to.

Acknowledging that fact, even to myself, almost broke me. I didn’t want to feel differently. I wanted to be all in like I had been my entire life.

I had always had a plan, him, and I didn’t want to change it. I didn’t want to contemplate a life where Jordan Porter wasn’t the focal point.

It crippled me, the feeling I had inside, the one that assured me that while I still loved my husband deeply, it wasn’t the same as before.

And worse, the undeniable, heart-wrenching feeling in my gut that assured me I would never feel that way again.

I had always prided myself on having my shit together, and knowing where I belonged in the world – and to who I belonged. I had made a choice, and for the last twenty plus years, I had stuck to it.

Now, I was second guessing everything I had thought was permanent and unchanging.

I had spent my life fighting so hard to be with Jordan that I never stopped to think about what I was doing.

Our relationship had always seemed so… inevitable that I never gave another thought to a life without him.

I never thought about if this was what I truly wanted?

If he was what was good for me.

I had been so damn stubborn and determined that I had never given a second glance to any other men.

Until now.

Dammit, everything had been so much easier when I was a kid.

Back then, I knew who I was.

Hope Carter.

I knew where and who I belonged to.

Myself

I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up.

A writer.

And I knew who I wanted to marry.

Jordan Porter.

So why now, when I had finally gotten everything I wanted, was I having second thoughts?

Why was I entertaining the doubt and fear that had crept into my heart?

"I have to go if I'm going to make work on time," Jordan announced then, breaking through my thoughts, and his words caused the loneliness inside of me to surge. I watched him stand up and shrug on his jacket. "Traffic is always hell on earth this time of day," he added as he reached for his cup and chugged back the remaining coffee. "I'll be home about nine tonight. We can work on fixing that writer's block of yours then, okay?"

"Okay," I replied, smiling. I didn’t bother adding that he couldn’t fix my block. I didn’t want to sound unappreciative. Jordan was trying and I was willing to let him.

He leaned over the small, circular table and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "I love you, Keychain."

I closed my eyes and cherished the contact. "I love you too, Jordy."

When I opened my eyes again, he was gone, and I was alone.

Only when my phone vibrated in my purse did I remember the unread messages. My heart jackknifed in my chest and I held my breath as I grabbed my phone and swiped a trembling finger across the screen to unlock it.

Hunter: BTW: I walked in on Noah giving it to Teagan in the kitchen yesterday. Fucking ruined my appetite.

Hunter: Sick bastards. They better stop that shit once the baby comes.

Hunter: So, I'm guessing you're not texting me back because you're with husband dearest?

Hunter: You know where I am when you're done being second best.

Well, fuck.

* * *

Lucky

"The fuck you grinning at?" Noah grunted, pulling me from my thoughts, as he bench-pressed twice my body weight. "You're supposed to be spotting me, asshole, not playing with your goddamn phone."

"Simmer down, precious," I shot back with a wink before slipping my phone back into my jeans pocket and taking the bar from him. "Believe it or not, I happen to possess this amazing ability of being able to do two things at the same time." I set it back down in the hold and tossed him a towel.

Sitting up on the bench, Noah grabbed the towel mid-air and wiped the sweat from his brow. "You possess the asshole gene is what you fucking possess, Lucky," he said with a smirk, and just like that, I was transported back to a time when all we had to depend on was each other.

Neither one of us would have made it out of that cell block without the other.

That knowledge, dependence, and respect forged a deeper kind of friendship than most.

He wasn’t just my friend or my partner in crime.

Noah Messina was my brother.

And just like he had mine, I'd have his back until I took my last breath on this earth.

"So, who's the girl?" Noah asked a little breathlessly as he stood up and stretched himself out. "You've had your phone glued to your hand all morning."

"Hope," I chuckled and his words made me automatically check my phone for a response to my earlier messages.

Nothing.

Maybe I had laid it on a little heavy with her, but I didn’t give a shit that she was married. I knew that made me sound like a selfish bastard, but I didn’t care.

He didn’t deserve her.

Any man who could walk away from the self-proclaimed love of his life like he had didn’t deserve a second chance. Besides, I'd been dead inside for too fucking long to walk away from the one person who made me feel again.

And Hope?

She made me feel.

I wasn’t blind and I wasn’t in denial. I could see the whole childhood sweethearts turned lover's bullshit fairytale was important to her. I didn’t fit into that life she had planned out. Thing was, I didn’t care because I knew there was a piece of her sectioned off for me.

Just me.

I knew it and all I needed her to do was wake the hell up and realize it, too.

She was worth so much more than the life she'd attached herself to.

I wanted to take care of her. I wanted to snatch her away from the bullshit life she'd unwittingly tied herself to and show her everything she deserved.

I wanted to show her how to live.

"That is one bad mother-fucking idea," Noah stated in a no-nonsense tone. "Take my advice, man, and run far, far away from that situation. Nothing good will come out of messing around with a girl like her." His brown eyes seemed to bore through me as he spoke, and I could tell that Noah was willing me to take heed of his warning. "Trust me when I tell you she will never leave that guy. Not for you, or any other love-struck fool who tries."

"We're friends," I heard myself reply and Noah rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," he snorted. "And I'm a fucking virgin."

When I didn’t say anything further, Noah shook his head and said, "Alright, man. Do what you gotta do. But when she rips your heart out of your goddamn chest – and she will – don’t say I didn’t warn you."

"Wow. Thanks for the great advice and vote of confidence," I shot back mockingly. "Asshole."

"You don’t need any more confidence, Lucky," Noah laughed. "You're already full of shit." He inclined his head towards the entrance of the gym and said, "Come on. Let's go grab a bite. I'm fucking starving."

"Yeah," I agreed, following after him. "Me, too. I’ve been craving chicken all day."