In the early morning light, I reached for my missing heater of a pillow and winced at the bruises on my face and chest. I went in search of Rogan and found him staring out the kitchen window. I approached him from behind and draped my arms around his waist. He placed one hand over mine.

"What do you see out this window?"

He lowered his head and shook it.

"Do you have PTSD?"

He looked down at me over his shoulder with an eyebrow arched into the shape of a serpent. "I don't have PTSD. The Army checks my mental stability regularly. They wouldn't trust me with million-dollar equipment if I wasn't solid."

I dropped my arms and took a step away from the menace that hit me from his back.

"Why do you tell people you're retired military if it's clearly a huge part of your life?"

He spun and nailed me with hatred spewing from his eyes. "Why do you continue to push and test and ask questions when I've made it clear I can't tell you?"

"Can't or won’t?"

"Both."

"Maybe we could get you some help. If you lost friends over there—"

He clasped his head in his hands and grimaced. "Shut up!"

"But..."

He stalked toward me, anger whipping off him like fire. "You have no idea what you're talking about. If I answered your questions, a fucking flood would open up and drown you in water so deep you couldn't breathe. I'll never put a weight like that on you. I tried so goddamn hard not to unload that on you, but you kept pushing and pushing and driving me fucking insane."

I turned and paced away from him. The familiar bitterness of rejection sliced through me. Nothing had changed. Rogan thought I wasn't strong enough to handle him. He'd allow himself to hold me, protect me, but he would never open a door for me and let me carry weight for him. I could never love a man with an impenetrable barrier between us. I'd only end up hurt when he leaves again.

"Did you fuck the spook?" He spoke low and quiet, his voice rough like sandpaper.

"What?" I looked back at him over my shoulder.

His nostrils flared, like a bull about to charge at a matador. "Cutlass. Did you fuck him?"

I propped my arms on my hips and matched his demanding tone. "None of your business." His intimidation techniques might work on prisoners, but not on me.

"Did you fuck him?" He paused between each word, clearly struggling to control his fury.

"No. Okay? No. I haven't been with anybody. But even if I had, that's a totally rude question, which you have no right to ask me. Especially when I just asked you a much less obnoxious question and you went ballistic!" I grabbed my backpack and my keys, which I thought I'd dropped in the parking lot. Did Rogan bring these here? I don't care. I can't care. "Thank you for rescuing me last night. I'm thrilled you're alive. No, I really am. Because you're too awesome to not be on this earth." I slung my bag over my shoulder and gripped my keys in my clenched fist. "But you're a black chasm to me. The absence of color. The opposite of me. Life's too short to live without color. I've been there and it sucks."

As I reached for the doorknob, his quiet voice pierced the void. "Stop. Stop right there." He held out one hand but let it fall.

"What? I'm right, aren't I? You're a black void to me."

He shook his head and looked to the floor.

Gah! What does that mean?

"I'm done. Goodbye, Rogan. Don't contact me. Don't talk to me. Please. Just leave me alone."

I slammed the door shut and retreated to Blaze's apartment, leaving Rogan and all the bullcrap that came with him behind.

***

"I don't want you seeing Cutlass anymore." Rogan said his first words to me since I'd asked him to leave me alone a week ago.

I shivered at the bitter cold as he walked by my side in the Siege parking lot after my shift.

"You told me to shut up. I'm doing that."

I tucked my coat tighter around me and wiped frigid snowflakes from my face. Idaho was cold, but Boston's winters delivered their own unique bite.

"I don't want you to go back to dancing after your injuries heal."

He must know Dallas took me off the box girl schedule while I recovered from the beating. I tried to tell him I was fine and I could cover the fading bruises with makeup, but he wouldn't listen.

"You don't need to walk me to my truck anymore. Dallas added lights and cameras all over the employee lot now."

"Don't care."

We stopped at the door to my truck. "You know, you're a piece of work. You come walk me to my truck the last four nights saying nothing to me. When you finally decide to talk on the fifth night, you try to tell me who to see and what to do?" I shook my head. "No way."

"Tess— "

"No! I asked you to leave me alone. You've been gone six months and now… now you barge into my life and start ordering me around? I'm not looking for someone to take my idiot father's place."

He flinched. "Let me— "

"I'm happy now. I appreciate how you rescued me and helped me start a new life. I'll always be grateful for that. I'm finding my way now. But you"—I poked his chest and it bent my finger back—"mess with my head. Just go. Run away and kill people somewhere, but keep your black cloud away from my happy place."

He smirked at the icy pavement as I got in my truck and drove out of the lot onto the cleared street. His flurried reflection in my rearview mirror watched my truck till I turned the corner, just like he had four nights in a row.

***

I slammed the door to Blaze's apartment and tossed my coat and backpack on the end table. The nerve of Rogan! Following me around and then telling me what to do like he cared about me. He dangles his tantalizing carrot and snatches it away over and over, breaking my little bunny heart each time.

My phone buzzed in my purse. Probably another text from Lachlan asking me how I'm doing. I needed to respond soon or he'd show up here.

Oh—a text from Rogan.

R: Balcony

An ice block dropped in my chest as I walked to the balcony doors. Arctic air snapped my hair against my cheeks and needle-like flakes blew uninvited into the room. Wow, a foot of snow had collected on the railing out here while I'd been at work. And Lord help me, in the courtyard below, Rogan stood tall and strong in the flurry. He held a guitar poised in front of him. Takoda waited at attention by his side, her tail making little snow angels.

In the darkness, the edge of the cone of light from the lamppost illuminated his outline. His boots sunk deep into the drift. Icy slush collected on the gunmetal gray beanie on his head.

He strummed his guitar and began to sing. "Hey, darlin', will you dance with me?"

I leaned back with my arms crossed over my chest and laughed at Rogan singing his heart out and playing guitar out in the middle of a blizzard.

"I'll play your favorite song."

"What are you doing? It's freezing!"

"Then I'll hold you close, all night long."

Oh my God! Rogan's feathery voice drilled a pick into the ice around my chilled heart.

"Hey, darlin', can I take you out?"

"Come up here!"

He nodded but sang more silky strains as he walked inside. Takoda bolted ahead of him. I ran to my front door and threw it open. His strumming got louder as he climbed the stairs. Takoda's eager paws thumped up the steps and tromped to me. She didn't touch me with her wet paws—she knew better than that—but she jumped up on her hind legs. Ice-cold drops fell from behind her ears as I scrubbed her with both hands. "Silly girl."

Rogan reached the corridor, still crooning in his sultry voice. He looked down at his guitar, and his timbre quieted.

"Hey, darlin', let me make you mine.

Say you'll walk with me a while

Because I see our future in your smile

Hey, darlin', let me make you mine."

When he raised his head, his eyes glinted through crystalline snowflakes on his lashes, and his pink lips bent in an adorable crooked line.

"Listen..." I tried to sound stern, but his sneaky move was totally working on me. I couldn't be mean to him now after he'd put himself out there like this. I stared at him in shock, a huge smile on my face.

"There's my Sunshine," he said, staring at my mouth.

I ushered him in and closed the door. "Take off those wet clothes."

He chuckled. "Alright. That was easy."

"No, I mean your jacket and hat, you goof!"

He set his guitar against the wall and removed his soaked beanie and coat. He stalked toward me with purpose. "Time to talk." He grasped my hand and led me to the couch. "Remember how you'd ask me to forgive you and I'd tell you there was nothing to forgive?" He touched my temple and squinted at the bruises fading to yellow on my face. "Now it's my turn. Forgive me. For treating you the way I did before I left, for leaving, for saying what I said a week ago. Everything. I'm sorry." He took my other hand and held my gaze. "You wanna hear my excuses, I'll tell you, but just know I apologize, no matter why, I was wrong. I did mess with your head."

"You totally did. I'm so confused. Why'd you get so angry when I asked you questions?"

"I came straight from the airport. Hyperalert and in kill-or-be-killed mode. I run into your dad and some other asshole pounding his fists into you in the Siege parking lot... He's very lucky to be alive."

"Oh my gosh."

"The next morning, seeing welts darken on your beautiful face did not settle with me. Your pointed questions... I lost my shit. I should've contained it better."

"I didn't think..."

"You know how it bothers you when people call you sweet?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Talking about what happens downrange triggers the same reaction in me. Particularly about PTSD. Hell yes, my friends died. My family…" He shook his head. "Simplifying it to four letters... People lose their lives in war. Yes. But the stuff I've seen affects everything I do."

"Thanks for telling me this. I understand so much better now."

"There's more I need to tell you. It's not easy for me to talk about. But I'd like to show you. We're gonna spend some time together. Alone. Away from here. And I'll tell you everything you want to know."

"Why bother? Like you said, I can't handle you."

He wrapped a hand around my neck and twined his fingers in my hair. "I was wrong. You're strong. More than anyone knows and stronger than any woman I've ever met. You may be the only one who can handle me."

The coolness of his touch made me shiver, but when he looked in my eyes, the warmth of a campfire glowed there and heated my skin. The magnetic field crackled between us like hot bacon in a skillet, just as it always had before, but stronger now because he was focusing all his intensity on me and looked so darn gorgeous in his blue jeans and flannel shirt. But Rogan had hurt me and I'd promised myself I'd never give him the chance to do it again.

I arched my neck to dislodge his hand and stepped away from him. "You shouldn't touch me. You lost that right."

"Listen. Before I doubted my self-control with you. When I was out there this time, I realized I can utilize my training and apply it to you. In the field, I'm calm, precise, focused. I can do it. No one has better self-control than me."

"You think you're suddenly going to be able to master whatever has been making you nutso all this time?"

"I'm sure of it." He smiled at me and oh boy, Rogan's devilish grin made my panties catch fire and get wet at the same time. "You're taking time off. Come on an adventure with me. By the end of it, you'll see I'm right."

"I can't. I need to work. My classes..."

"There's no school Monday. You'll only miss Wednesday and Friday."

"How do you know my schedule?"

"You'll catch up when you get back."

"But Siege. I'm working this weekend—"

"You don't need to work. I'm in with the boss," he said in a conspiratorial tone as he pulled a number up on his phone. "Dallas, Tess won't be in for a week. That alright with you?"

Rogan nodded and ended the call. "You're off work for a week."

"You can't just call my boss like that."

"I got you the job, I can get you a vacation."

"You got me the job? I thought Brock..."

"Brock did it because I asked him to."

Well, that was kind. Even though he didn't tell me he did it. Wait… "Did you buy me the truck and give me the money?"

"Yes. I wanted you to have an armored truck."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Just in case."

"Just in case what?"

His playful eyes and laughing tone became dark and serious. "If you'd made it to your truck, your dad would've never gotten his hands on you."

"Oh. I see." Rogan protected me from the beginning? He could be so darn thoughtful. But also a cold-hearted turkey. "I want to pay you back."

"No." He stalked to my bedroom closet and picked up an empty duffel bag. "Best if you pack now. We're leaving in the morning."

Hmm. Curiosity clawed at my psyche. What did he have planned? "If we do this, it's just friends. No cuddling. No kissing."

His lips quirked up at the corners. "I think I made it clear I'm lookin' for more than friends with you, but I'll play along."

"Okay. Let's go for it."

"Bring the dress you wore to the wedding. And those cutoff shorts that show your ass. In fact, where's your schoolgirl outfit?"

"My costume for Siege?"

"Yeah, with the white stockings."

"Um, in my backpack."

"Go get it."

I brought him my backpack and pulled out my top, skirt, and stockings. "And why would I need these?"

He grabbed the costume from my hand and shoved it into the duffel bag. "Continue..." He handed me the bag and waved his hand toward the depths of the closet.

I chose a few more items and added them to the bag.

From behind me, he said, "Tess."

I turned to face him. "Hmm?"

He held up a squat, red cardboard box. "Bring this too."

I dropped the bag and stepped toward him. "What is it?"

"Open it."

The box held a petite, gilded jewelry box. Intricate mother of pearl inlay traced around vines and flower buds. The lid opened in front, held by two golden hinges along the back. Inside, red velvet compartments. All empty, but perfectly square.

"It's exquisite."

"Pack it in the bag."

"Shouldn't we leave it here? I don't want it to get damaged."

"Bring it."

"Okay."

"And your ice-cream cone shoes. A bathing suit too. And your boots."

"Boots? Where are we going? Is Takoda coming?"

"Blaze'll watch Koda. Be prepared for anything. I'm leaving now. You finish packing." He walked to the door and stopped with one hand on the doorjamb. "I'll pick you up at oh-eight hundred.

"Huh?'

"Eight in the morning. Our flight's at ten."

"Flight?"

"If you wanna see the colors of the world, you gotta fly." He tapped the wall twice, gave me a wicked smirk, and left me alone in my room.

Oh my goodness. What the heck did he have planned?