I’d left a few minutes before the basketball game was over. Sam was still inside, sitting with Logan and some others, but I’d wanted to get to Manny’s before everyone filtered in.

I might be a high school student, but I had work to do.

I was weaving through the vehicles in the parking lot when I heard him.

“You becoming a full-fledged Fallen Crustie? Going to their games too?”

I drew up short, my insides tightening at his voice, and I looked over.

Channing lounged against his truck, one foot over the other, his arms across his chest, and his head down.

I readied myself, prepared for anything he was going to throw my way, but he didn’t look angry. He almost seemed… I cocked my head to the side. That couldn’t be true.

He almost seemed resigned.

No way. Channing Fucking Monroe wasn’t a guy to let me become a “Fallen Crustie,” his derogatory term for them—not without a fight anyway.

“Maybe.” I stopped a few feet from him, sliding my hands into my back pockets. I tilted my head to the side, knowing it drove him nuts. He always wanted to step in, slide his hand around my neck, and pull me in for a kiss.

“I don’t go to school in Roussou anymore. I guess that makes me Fallen Crest now.”

His eyes darkened. “You’ll always be Roussou.”

We are Roussou.

The thought flared in me at his words, and I couldn’t deny that I wanted it too. The kiss. I touched the top of my mouth with my tongue. The thirst was there. The hunger. It’d been too long since I last tasted him.

He groaned. “Fuck, Heather. You’re playing with fire here.”

“Maybe.” I grinned at him. I couldn’t stop myself.

His eyes darted behind me. “You’re making new friends.”

Oh. That’s why he was here. All the flirting left me. “Yeah, but you knew that.”

“Friends come and go.” He pushed off his truck, walking toward me, a predator stalking his prey. He stopped right in front of me, now within inches. “These friends don’t seem to be going,” he breathed.

I didn’t want to look in his eyes anymore. There was too much history there.

I focused on his chest, murmuring, “Yes, they do.”

His arm shifted.

I felt him now, and I sucked in some air at his touch. His hand rested on my chest, then slid upward, curving around my neck. He tilted my head to meet his gaze. It was heated, but not from anger, not from wanting to fight. His eyes were fiery because of me, because he was touching me.

“If they hurt you… If she hurts you…” He let his threat hang in the air.

My heart skipped a beat. My body temperature was rising fast, and I was just barely restraining myself from pressing against him.

I touched his chest, intending to push him back an inch. But I didn’t. I only whispered instead. “I like Samantha. She’s a good person.” She was a new friend. I thought she could be a good one too, but only time would tell.

He grunted, his thumb rubbing against the base of my neck. “She’s connected, Heather.”

“I know.” He’d known that already. That wasn’t why Channing was here. He was here to remind me I was connected too, that I had others who would protect me. I wasn’t on my own, which I had to admit was sometimes how I felt going to school in Fallen Crest. I had friends, but they weren’t like him.

No one was like him.

I spread my fingers out, moving my hand to feel his heartbeat.

We weren’t a couple—when we actually were official—who did cheesy. We didn’t have the pretty words, the nice promises. What we had was different. We had history. We’d bled for each other. We’d fought for each other. We fought against each other. But as I smoothed my hand over his heart, I closed my eyes.

No. Instead of the romantic stuff others might have, we had this.

I felt my heart align with his.

We had the same heartbeat.

Channing gave in too, his arms moving around to hold me. He bent his head. I felt his lips brush my forehead.

“I might not be the man for you now.” He cupped the side of my face and moved my head back so I could see him. His eyes were downright smoldering. “I will never be worthy of you, but one day, I hope to be better. One day, I will give you everything. I promise.”