I let out a string of quite imaginative curses when my alarm goes off at eight. I had a late shift yesterday, and after that, I worked on that damn English Lit project ‘cause I don’t wanna let Tank down. It was four in the morning when my head finally hit the pillow, and it’s been the fourth night in a row I haven’t made it past five hours of sleep. But I promised Rebel I’d help moving Troy’s stuff over to his place and the rest to Goodwill, so up I go.

I’ve stayed in bed as long as I can, so I quickly splash some water on my face, style my hair, and get dressed. I heat up the leftovers from yesterday’s tea in the microwave so I have something to drink and grab a quick health bar to get some calories in. I think I’ve lost some weight recently. No wonder, since I barely have time to sleep, let alone to go grocery shopping or cook.

Five minutes later, I’m in my car, yawning so hard tears spring to my eyes. I’ve never been to Troy’s place, but the directions are easy, and once I’m there I see a U-Haul truck, so I’m pretty sure I’m at the right address. The tea and bar I’ve had do little for the nagging headache, so I pop an ibuprofen before getting out of my car.

When I do, I spot Tank riding down the street, and I raise my hand. He parks right behind my car and takes off his helmet.

“Hi,” I say once he’s shut off his bike. “I didn’t know you were coming, too.”

“Yeah, they needed all the hands they could get, I think. For the heavy stuff. Not that you couldn’t do it, but…” His voice trails off.

My mouth quirks. “I know what you meant.”

He gives me a once over, his gaze staying a little longer on my face. I self-consciously drag a hand through my hair. I know I’ve looked better, but there’s little I can do about it. All I need is one good night of sleep and a decent meal, and I’ll be back to my old self.

Tank finally tears his eyes away and locks his bike, and we make our way inside together where we find the front door open already. We hesitantly walk into the apartment, where we almost run into Rebel.

“Thanks for coming!”

We do that complicated hand-shake thing only he can pull off, and I’m surprised to see him and Tank exchange a manly hug.

“Well, I didn’t know there was coming involved,” I joke.

It’s an easy shot, I know, but I feel it’s kind of expected from me. Rebel grins, and I hear a chuckle from somewhere else in the apartment—Troy, probably. But Tank frowns and sends me an indecipherable look. I guess he still doesn’t appreciate my sense of humor.

“So, who else are we expecting?” I ask Rebel.

“Campy is coming, and he’s bringing his new roommate who kindly offered to help. Apparently, he’s from the south somewhere, so he’s awfully helpful and friendly—Campy’s words. And Pixie and Bear are coming, too.”

“Together?”

Rebel’s eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean, together? Pixie and Bear? Of course not. Sheesh, they’re like, what, twenty years apart?”

“Yeah, so?” I shrug. “Haven’t you ever seen how Bear looks at him?”

Rebel opens his mouth, then closes it again, frowning. Either he’s never given this much thought, or he doesn’t wanna get into it with me. I can’t say that I’ve spent hours wondering whether my boss and my cute coworker are getting it on, but I’ve certainly noticed something is going on between those two. Plus, something happened when they shared a room in New York, I’m sure of it. But I agree with Rebel; we should stay out of it.

“What about Heart?” Tank wants to know.

“He couldn’t make it. Apparently, he has some obligation on Saturdays or something. And we didn’t ask Mason because he’s…”

Troy walks into the hallway and slaps Rebel on his ass. “He’s a big nerd who would probably trip over his own feet and fall down the stairs while holding my expensive china, is what Rebel is trying to say.”

“You have expensive china?” I ask, wriggling my eyebrows.

“Hell, no, but if I did, my boy Mason would manage to break it. So we decided to let him sit this one out.”

There’s noise behind us, and then an honest-to-God cowboy steps into sight. His face is too rugged to be called pretty, but he sure is handsome in his checkered shirt and ripped jeans with the big belt buckle, and he’s got a body that looks like every muscle was earned with hard work, not in a gym. And I swear, it’s already seventy-something degrees out there, and he’s wearing a frigging cowboy hat.

“Howdy, y’all,” he drawls and tips his hat.

This, obviously, is Campy’s new roomie with the appropriate name of Jackson, and us Ballsy Boys share a few looks of admiration with each other as we introduce ourselves to him. His drawl is perfect and lazy, and I could listen to him all day.

“Close your mouth, fuckboy. You’re drooling,” Tank breathes into my ear.

God, his low voice always gets to me for some reason, especially when he’s tickling my ear with his beard, like he’s doing now.

“I’m not,” I protest weakly, but Tank shoots me a look that makes me shut up. Okay, I was drooling. A little. He’s just very nice to look at...and to listen to.

Then Pixie arrives, with Bear closely behind him, and it’s time to get started. I’ve helped carry down a ratty couch and a huge cabinet that was way heavier than it looked, and I’m halfway down the stairs lifting another cabinet, when I get woozy. My head spins violently, and I feel all my strength leaving me, turning me into Jell-O. The cabinet slips out of my fingers, and I sag down on the stairs.

“Brewer, what the fuck?” Rebel calls out, then curses, as I’m desperately trying to stay conscious. “Somebody, help me!”

I think I lost a few seconds, because suddenly I’m lifted into strong arms, and my head lolls against his chest.

“What is wrong with him?” That’s Bear, and he sounds worried.

I wish I could answer him, but actually staying awake is costing me enough energy, so I don’t even try. My vision is still fuzzy, and I keep blinking to try and clear it.

Tank lowers himself in one of the last chairs left and puts me on his lap. My head falls against his shoulder, and I’m too damn tired to lift it up.

He cups my cheek. “Hey, fuckboy, stay with me, okay?”

Despite using his favorite derisive term for me, he actually sounds worried. And gentle.

“Ishard,” I manage.

“Does anyone have any juice? Something with sugar?” Tank asks.

It all feels like it’s happening somewhere else, Tank talking, and someone giving him a bottle of multi-vitamin juice. Him putting it against my mouth, telling me to start drinking.

The juice is wonderfully cold and sweet, and I keep drinking and drinking until I’ve emptied the whole bottle.

“Do we need to get him to a doctor?” Bear asks.

“I think he’s dehydrated a little and definitely exhausted. I think we need to call it a day. He needs some sleep.”

I want to protest at Tank making decisions like this for me, but I’m too damn tired. He rises to his feet, still holding me, and that’s when I stop even trying to fight it. I put my head against his chest, breathe in deeply, and fall asleep right in his arms.