Sean

I cursed the sliver of gray peeking through the tiny slit in the blackout drapes. I hadn’t so much as flinched in three hours, too afraid that if I moved, Anna would come to her senses, get up, and call a fucking cab. 

She knew.

The notion rolled around in my head as I stroked her back with numb, tingling fingers. 

I’d been carrying the guilt of my betrayal around for all this time, telling myself that even if I was the one who started us down the path, Anna had ended us. That she’d moved on. 

But it was all me.

Anna stirred in my arms, catapulting me into the present. 

She looked up at me with that not-quite-awake stare and said, “Can we open presents?”

Anna was the fucking present, and I’d love to unwrap her, peel back every layer. 

Instead, I smoothed the hair from her face and tried to figure out what time or place she was visiting in her dreams. 

“Is it your birthday, Anna-baby?” She frowned, confused, so I tried again. “All right then, what do you want for Christmas?” 

A small smile curved her lips, and her lids fluttered closed. “Padre Island.” 

I chuckled. “The whole island?” She shook her head, then nodded, and it took all my effort not to laugh. “All right, pretty girl. I’ll get you Padre Island. The whole damn thing.” 

She rolled away from me, and though it sent a pain straight through my fucking heart, I let her. After pulling the covers to her chin, I scooted off the bed. 

Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I skimmed all the alerts, but it was Anna’s soft sigh that drew my attention. I glanced at her auburn hair fanning the pillow.

More. 

That’s all I wanted. 

More of Anna. More of this. Just . . . more. 

Looking down at my phone when it buzzed, I walked into the living room and hit the first link that populated the screen. 

Mega concert promoter Benny Conner wooing Caged for the Euro-Trash Rock Festival tour.

Fuck me. I hadn’t even thought about Benny, the band, or the meeting I’d blown off. Since the moment I’d followed Anna down that hallway at the arena she’d consumed me.

Instead of reading one of the hundred texts, I dropped onto the couch and perused the breakfast menu. Only after I’d called room service and ordered every kind of pancake known to man did I pick up my phone. 

Before I could respond to any messages or emails, a loud knock echoed in the suite. I jumped to my feet, rushing to the foyer before the pounding woke Anna. 

Yanking the door open, I met Logan’s frosty glare over the top of his sunglasses. “What the fuck happened to you last night?” He brushed past me, and when he nearly tripped over Anna’s discarded stilettos, he jerked his gaze to mine. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me? You ditched a meeting with Benny C for a—”

Before he could finish, the bedroom door creaked open, and then Anna was there, twisting the sash on the oversized robe the hotel provided. 

“I didn’t know anyone was here,” she said, her eyes jumping from Logan to me. 

I cemented on a smile. “That’s okay. Look what the cat dragged in.” 

Logan didn’t even look at me as he stalked straight to Anna. A brief second passed and then she was off the ground, in his arms. “I can’t believe this,” he said as he swung her around. “You’re really here. How?” 

Setting her on her feet, he waited for an answer. 

Anna pulled in a slow breath. “Well, I came to the show last night, and . . .” 

Her gaze shot to mine. 

“And we had a few drinks,” I said to Logan as I sank into the wing backed chair. “Since Anna was a little tipsy, she decided to crash here.” 

Anna turned a deeper shade of red, knowing exactly how this looked. I knew as well, but the difference was, I didn’t care. I’d already resolved myself to the fact that I wanted Anna in my life. Any way that she’d have me. 

Logan glanced between us, and for a moment, I thought Anna’s crimson flush might deter him. But, no.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “Go sell crazy somewhere else. We shared an apartment, remember? No way y’all spent a night in the same room without—” 

“Dude!” I barked. “Don’t.” 

Anna’s snort of laughter broke the tension, and when I saw the small smile curving her lips, I relaxed.

Smirking at me, Logan grabbed Anna’s hand and led her to the couch.

Leave it to the jackass to break the ice without falling through it. 

Logan pulled Anna down next to him, his questions coming fast and furious. And to my surprise, she answered, providing bits and pieces about her life. 

Logan met my gaze, a question furrowing his brow. Since I didn’t have a fucking answer, I merely shrugged.

Tuning them out when Logan delved deeper into Anna’s personal life, I picked at the hangnail on my thumb. I couldn’t bear to hear the details.

I jumped to attention when Logan snapped his fingers. 

“Dude, someone’s at your door,” he said, both brows raised in an exaggerated gesture. “Do you want me to get it, or what?”

There was no mistaking Logan’s implication, or his intention to throw himself on the sword if some chick had found her way to my suite. Anna’s fidgeting and refusal to meet my eyes proved that Logan wasn’t the only one with an over-active imagination. 

“That’s room service.” Hauling to my feet, I smiled at Anna. “Pancakes.” 

Moments later, two rosy-cheeked attendants followed me into the room, each pushing an overfilled cart. Logan and Anna took a seat at the dining room table while the servers busied themselves unloading platters of pancakes.

Anna pressed her lips together, biting down a grin.

I grinned back, because really, what else could I do? The girl wanted pancakes. Maybe not four dozen, but hey, better safe than sorry. 

After helping the servers with the cart and signing the check, I returned to find Anna scowling as Logan loaded her plate. 

“Lo,” she griped. “That’s too much.”

He snorted as he set the feast in front of her. “Don’t give me that shit. You know how hungry you get after—”

Anna elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t you dare finish that statement.”

Rubbing his side, Logan scooted away from her. “A concert! You get hungry after a concert. Geez, girl, put that bony elbow away, and get your mind out of the gutter.”

Smiling, I trapped Anna’s foot between mine as I poured her a cup of coffee, light with two sugars. She didn’t try to move, so I counted it as a win.

“Anna said she’d come out to the Parish for our next show,” Logan said in between bites. “Just like the old days.”

Anna stared down at her plate, pushing her food around.

Filling my cup, I caught her gaze when she looked up. “You’re going to the Parish?” 

She lifted a shoulder. “Logan invited me. But it’s no big deal. I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”

“Of course you’re going.” Logan glowered at me. “I would’ve invited you sooner if I’d thought you’d come. Shit, you won’t even meet me for coffee, so I didn’t think you’d be down to come to a show.”

I froze with the cup halfway to my lips, glancing between the two of them. I hadn’t forgotten about Anna’s confession or Logan’s four-year omission, but I’d deal with that later. Right now, I was more interested in how long they’d been in contact. 

Anna didn’t notice my frozen expression.

She gave Logan a little nudge with her shoulder. “You don’t drink coffee.” 

“For you, I would.” Logan’s eyes locked on mine as he pushed to his feet. “I got to take care of that business we were talking about.” I nodded, and he planted a kiss on the top of Anna’s head. When she looked up, he said to her, “I’ll see you next Saturday.”

She smiled, then promptly refocused on her plate.

I hopped out of my chair, following my best friend to the door. 

“We need to talk,” I said, grabbing his arm before he slipped away. 

Logan looked down at my hand, then up to my face, smirking. “Name the time.” 

I gave Logan’s bicep a hard squeeze before I released him so that he’d know I was dead serious.

He searched my face for a long moment, then he left.

When I reclaimed my seat across from Anna, I noticed that her pancakes were now a pile of blueberry mush. 

“I don’t have to go to the Parish if it makes you uncomfortable,” she said quietly, without looking up. “Logan’s just . . . you know . . . Logan.” 

“Baby, I want you to go.” I took a sip of my coffee, and when the silence got too hard to ignore, I said carefully, “So you and Logan talk, huh?” 

Anna looked up, her wall firmly in place. “Yeah, a little bit.” 

I watched her over the rim of my cup as I took another drink. “How did he know where to find you?”

Anger sparked in her emerald gaze, the gold flecks burning orange. “He didn’t have to find me, Sean. I wasn’t lost. Unlike you, I have the same email address and the same phone number.” 

I sank further into my seat, absorbing the blow. All this time, Anna was only lost to me. 

“I thought he’d mention it, that’s all,” I said as I examined the leftover grounds in the bottom of my cup. “How long have y’all been talking?”

Anna’s silence drew my attention, and she gave me a look that said I didn’t want to know. But then she sighed. “I contacted Logan about two months after you left, just to see if you were okay.” Her focus shifted to some spot on the wall, and she continued, “He told me it would be awkward if we, him and me, kept in touch. Then about a year and a half ago, he sent me an email and apologized. I just thought he was having a moment, you know?” Our eyes met, and unable to hide the pain, she whispered, “No, I guess you wouldn’t know.”

A pitiful apology clawed at my throat, but I swallowed it because anything I said would only serve one purpose: getting her to stop. And knowing Anna, she probably would, just to spare me. 

A dull ache settled in my chest. “So he apologized, and . . . ?” 

“I figured he’d said what he needed to say, so I was shocked when he kept emailing.”

I forced my lips to bend, mostly because I was thinking about all the ways I was going to kick Logan’s ass. “What do y’all talk about?”

“Lots of things.” Anna laughed. “Girls. The band. Music. Besides you and Peyton, Logan was my best friend. I lost all my closest friends when we split. It was hard.” Squinting like she was reliving a physical pain, Anna looked away. “Really hard. But we don’t talk about you, though. Logan said you never mention me, so . . .”

Anna’s thought trailed, but the implication was there—I didn’t care. I’d never cared.

The blow hit me square in the gut, and I offered a truth of my own, selfish as it was. “I don’t talk about you, Anna. It hurts too much.”

A practiced smile lifted her lips. “Don’t feel bad. It was a long time ago. I’m glad you’re happy.”

Happy? Was I happy?

Sometimes.

But the empty space was always there, the Anna-shaped void that I’d tried to fill with music and women and parties. 

“So,” Anna continued, snapping me out of my inner thoughts, “y’all have been in Austin for quite a while. What’s next?”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the girl was fishing. And since I was more than willing to get caught, I smiled.

“Nothing much.”

It was the truth. Nothing seemed as important as keeping Anna in my life. As friends or maybe more. The more I was still trying to figure out.

Taking her hand, I looked into her eyes. “What about you? Are you happy?” 

Anna tilted her head, pondering. And then she smiled weakly. “At times, yes. Very happy.”

I nodded, accepting Anna’s hedging, because if she were truly content, she wouldn’t be here.

Testing the theory, I moved to the seat Logan had vacated. “So, you and Dean?”

Anna looked down and fiddled with her emerald ring. “I don’t want to talk about Dean with you.”

I closed my hands around hers, and again, she made no move to pull away. “Fair enough.” 

I’d never knowingly gone after another man’s girl, let alone their wife. But this was Annabelle. She was mine first. And if Dean Kent made her happy, I’d back the fuck off. But first, I needed time to assess.

Skimming my hand up Anna’s arm and over her shoulder, I cupped her nape. “You know I built a house out at the lake?” I tilted her chin with my thumb, and she met my gaze, nodding. “How about you give me a ride home, and I’ll give you a tour of the place?”