The drive is dark and quiet. Somewhere around Malibu, Drew turns away from the main road. After ten minutes of twists and turns, we stop on a mountain top.

Drew gets out of the car. He pulls a hoodie from the backseat, unzips it and slings it around my shoulders.

"This is where I came the other day. When I was trying to think." He takes my hand and walks me toward the canyon. "Didn't help. I was still going out of my mind."

I take a look around. We're on top of one of the canyons in Malibu. The only light is from the moon and the stars. It's enough to make out the rocky scenery.

"About what?" I ask.

"About how I should have been there." He squeezes my hand. "How if I had been around more, you wouldn't have had to hurt yourself."

"That's not true." I pull my hand back to my chest and pull the hoodie a little tighter. "And I don't want to hear you saying things like that. I don't need to add your guilty conscience to the list of shit I have to deal with."

It's dark, but I can still make out his eyes. They're serious, intense.

"Okay." He shifts his weight. "You sure you want to know every ugly thing about me?"

"Positive."

"It happened when I was about seventeen. After my parents got divorced. I was relieved. Finally, I wouldn't have to see them pretend to like each other. But Willow took it so hard. She was miserable and she ran off with—" He lets out a sharp exhale. His hands curl into fists. "The asshole was no good. He hurt her. Hit her. And worse."

His eyes are on fire. His posture is defensive. I slide my arms around his waist.

He stiffens. "She couldn't see it. Thought it didn't mean anything. That he loved her. She was only fifteen. She couldn't help it. But I hated myself for letting her run off with him. I found the guy and beat him within an inch of his life. Broke my hand. Couldn't play the guitar for two months." His voice drops. "Almost killed him. I will if I ever see him again."

"You defended your sister. There's nothing ugly about that."

"It wasn't defense. She was safe. I wanted to make him hurt."

I stare back at Drew. I'm not too keen on violence, but it's hard to fault him for beating the guy who abused his sister.

I run my hand through his hair. "Why did you stop?"

"I don't know. He was a big guy and should have had the upper hand, but he went limp. Stopped fighting back."

"You couldn't do it?"

"Maybe. Or maybe my hand hurt too fucking bad. Or maybe I had enough sense to realize someone was gonna call the cops. It wasn't mercy. Sure as shit wasn't my conscience." His hand slides into my hair, tilting me so we're eye to eye again. "If anyone ever hurt you like that I’d kill him."

"You threatened to kill a guy for grabbing my ass. I can only imagine what you’d do if someone actually hurt me."

"Anytime someone causes you pain, not just that way—I want to kill them.” His gaze goes to the ground. “I keep hurting you. I hate myself for it."

"Drew-"

“Let finish.” His expression gets intense. "I know you think I'm overprotective. Maybe I am. The last six months or so, I've been trying to protect you from me. I wanted you all this time, Kara. For so long. But I was sure I'd only hurt you."

I swallow hard.

"I've hurt you a lot already."

Tension builds between my shoulder blades. I don't know what he's saying. I don't know how to respond. So I lean closer. I hold him tighter. With my head against his chest, I can hear his heartbeat. It's steady and strong.

"I mean it every time I say it. I don't want to hurt you." He holds me tighter. "But it's going to take a while for me to figure this relationship thing out."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna try, but you'll have to be patient."

"Okay."

"Make me a promise." He looks me dead in the eyes. "Promise you won't let me fuck this up."

"Promise you won't let yourself fuck this up."

He leans down to press his forehead against mine. "Deal."

"Deal," I agree.

* * *

It's well past midnight when we get home. Now that my lust is sated, my stomach is growling. I haven't eaten a proper meal since breakfast.

Drew stands behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and resting his chin against my shoulder. I lean into the comfort of his body against mine.

"You hungry?" He asks.

"Starving."

"I'll make something." He kisses me on the cheek and moves to the kitchen.

I plant myself on the table, watching him chop and dice. "When did you learn to cook?"

"Last few years. Miles taught me."

"That's so cute."

He looks at me as if to say watch yourself, Kendrick. "I wanted to eat homemade food. We don't tour as much as when we started, but it's still five months this year." He sets a pan on the stove. "If I never eat fast food again, it will be too soon."

"You don't crave burgers and fries?"

He sticks his tongue out in distaste. "Never. Tastes like screaming phone calls with my ex. Like drinking too much and wanting to start a fight but knowing Tom will kill me if I can't play."

"Is it really about playing?"

"Yeah, but—" Drew runs his hand through his hair. He turns toward me. "Tom cares more than he lets on."

"I'm telling him you said that."

Drew moves to my seat. He kneels next to me, so he's only barely looking up to me. "You won't." He grabs my shirt and pulls my lips into his.

I kiss him hard. "How do you know?"

"If you do, I'll tickle you until you pass out." He shifts back to his feet. "Damn, Kendrick. You're distracting me from our dinner."

"You didn't eat with the guys?"

"Stomach was in knots."

"Really?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "I do have feelings."

"But you act like nothing could ever hurt you."

"When you hurt, I hurt. I felt sick knowing I was causing you pain. Kept going in circles, thinking you'd be better off if I backed off but wanting you too much to do it."

"I don't want you to back off. You're the only person I can be myself around."

"What about Meg?"

"It's not the same. Not as easy." I bite my lip. "I'm not good at relationships either. Jake loved me but it wasn't really me. It was the nice, normal girl I convinced him I was."

Smoke drifts from the pan on the stove. It's burning.

"Fuck." Drew moves to the kitchen and tends to the food.

"I won't be okay without you. Even if we don't work as a couple. I need you to be my friend."

He's quiet for a minute. When he speaks, his voice is low. "I always want to be your friend."

My stomach growls. I remind myself to be patient. "I was thinking... what if we slept together?"

"Pretty sure we crossed the bridge, Kendrick."

"Not sex. Sleeping in the same bed. I know a lot of guys don't like it—"

"How many guys you try this with?"

"Shut up."

"You can do better than 'shut up.'"

"I'm too hungry to think up good comebacks."

He laughs as he fiddles with the pot. He's cooking something and it smells good. Like garlic and parsley.

I settle into my seat, all my attention on the scent of the food. Eggs. Red peppers. Some green vegetable. Spinach or maybe kale. If it's kale I'm teasing him mercilessly for being so LA.

Drew turns off the stove, scoops the food onto plates, and joins me at the table.

Damn. Spinach. So much for proving my comeback prowess. "Thanks."

He makes eye contact. "I'd love to sleep with you."

"You sure?"

"But I usually practice for a while before bed."

"I like hearing you play."

"You won't like hearing 'No Way in Hell' for the three hundredth time. How about I join you in your room when I'm done?"

A warmth spreads through my belly. "Okay."

He smiles. "You sleep naked, right?"

"No."

"Fuck. Thought that was part of the deal."

I pluck a pepper from my eggs and throw it at him. Victory! It smacks his cheek.

He peels it off and pops it in his mouth. "I will if you will."

"We'll never actually sleep."

"So?"

"I can sleep commando."

His teeth sink into his lip. "Go on..."

"You have to wait for that."