The tip of Preston’s finger trails down the side of my face. “How old were you when you got your first piercing?”

“You mean professionally?”

When he raises an eyebrow, I lift the hem of my shirt, exposing my belly button piercing. I’m beginning to regret the four slices of pizza I slammed. But then I realize, it’s just Preston. He couldn’t care less about the pizza pouch situation I’ve got going on.

“Technically I did this myself when I was fifteen, but it was a huge mistake.”

“Because it hurt?”

“Because I didn’t know what I was doing and it got infected.” I cringe as I recall the memory. “It worked in my favor though because after it cleared up, she gave me permission to get it pierced legitimately.” I roll my eyes. “She said my scar was abhorrent and she didn’t want people starting rumors about me having a botched plastic surgery.”  

Preston doesn’t even try to hide his annoyance. “Christ, she’s really something else.”

“Yeah, but I got her back on my eighteenth birthday.” I grin mischievously. “The look on her face when she saw my first tattoo was priceless.”

“Is that why you got it?” There’s no judgment in his tone, just curiosity.

I shake my head. “No. Don’t get me wrong, it added to the enjoyment. But self-expression was the culprit. Well, that and the adrenaline rush.”

Amusement lines his face. “A fellow adrenaline junkie.”

I have to laugh. “No, I’m absolutely petrified of heights.” Just like that my stomach free falls as the memory slashes through me. “It’s why I proposed to Becca in front of the Eiffel Tower instead of at the top like I originally planned. I wanted it to be special for her, but I freaked everyone out when I had a panic attack, and they made me go back down.” I inwardly shudder. “Have you seen those elevators? They’re no joke.”

Something passes in his gaze, but he shrugs and says, “No, but if you’re planning to ask someone to marry you, it should probably be someplace you both enjoy.”

“Like standing on a curb in Vegas?”

A laugh rumbles out of him and I can’t help but smile.

The fight we had earlier tore me to pieces, and there’s still so much we need to talk about—but I think us agreeing to put it on the backburner for tonight was something we both needed.

Things are so much simpler when it’s just the two of us.

It’s the outside world that screws everything up.

“And they say romance is dead.” I gesture to the pizza box. “I don’t know about you, but I’m enjoying our awesome honeymoon.”

He tucks his arm under his head. “Throw in a few rounds of strip poker and beer and it’s paradise.” He gives me a wry grin. “What do you say, Bishop?”

My laughter dies. “Hard pass. I’m not stripping for you.” I can feel the flush creeping in as thoughts of last night flit through my head. “However, I do have an employee subscription to Porn Rub. If you want me to throw you a bottle of Jergens and buzz off so you can have at it, just say the word.” Incapable of taking the foot out of my mouth, I add, “Or I can hire an escort and you can go to town. If you do her in front of me, it will almost be like we consummated our marriage.”

His mouth tightens. “Do you think I have a problem getting laid?”

The fact that I almost went there with him last night proves he doesn’t.

“Hardly,” I prattle on, brushing off the tiny voice in my head that’s begging me to shut up. “Come on, even your mom sounds like she wants to climb you like a tree. You obv—”

“You’re babbling.”

“Yeah, I know. Bad habit.”

Turning, he props himself up on his elbow. “Relax, angry girl. I suggested strip poker so I wouldn’t wipe out your bank account when I won.” His eyes burn a stormy trail down my body and back up again. “Not because I want to have sex with you.”

“Oh.”

I should be relieved instead of offended…and yet…

I’m about to ask him why I’m not up to par when he has no problem screwing anything in a skirt, but then he says, “I’m not trying to be a dick. You were right yesterday, it’s best we don’t muddle things.”

“Right.” I clear what sounds a whole lot like disappointment instead of relief out of my throat. “Exactly.”

I can feel him studying me. “It’s going to be awkward as hell now when I get up to take a shower, isn’t it?”

“Not at all.” Lord knows I can use a moment or several after that exchange.

When he rises from the bed, I go over to my dresser.

He looks at me like I’ve sprouted three heads when I throw a pair of men’s pajama pants at him.

“I bought these for a girl I used to hook up with.” I pick up the empty pizza box. “You two were around the same size.” I place a finger to my lips. “On second thought, I think her muscles were way bigger.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters as I leave the room.

After I throw the pizza box away, I head for the couch, figuring it’s probably a good idea to read over my notes from the one and only workshop I went to. This way, I’ll have some idea of what to expect on Monday.

The second my butt hits the cushion; however, I realize I left my suitcase with my paperwork in my car.

It’s extra chilly when I step outside, the cold air numbing my extremities as I make a mad dash for it.  

“Planning to escape?”

Instinctually, my hand goes to the can of pepper spray on my keychain and I spin around.

Unfortunately, or rather fortunately for Asher, I lose my footing on a small patch of ice.

Asher holds his arm out, righting me. “Probably should have knocked on the door, huh?”

I nod, my breathing erratic due to being spooked and almost falling. “Considering you took a decade off my life? Yeah, that would have been preferable. What are you doing here, anyway?” I look around. “Where are Landon and Breslin? How did you get here?”

“That’s a lot of questions.”

“Answer the first one then,” I say through chattered teeth.

He peels off his jacket and hands it to me. “I’m here trying to figure out how to get my brother to talk to me.”

Mayday. Abort mission. Preston’s upstairs and I don’t want to do or expose him to anything that will cause him to go into the horrible state he was in earlier.

I give Asher his jacket back. “Sorry, can’t help you there. Have a good night.”

“What, we’re not friends anymore?” he calls out when I start walking away.

“Of course, we’re still friends.” I pause, scrutinizing the thought. “It’s just kind of...”

“Complicated?” he finishes for me. “Yeah, I know. So is not knowing why your brother—who you’ve always looked out for—disappears for three years and doesn’t want to talk to you when he finally comes back.”

“You really don’t know why?” I can’t help the discrimination in my tone, but if anyone other than Preston should know the reason for their fallout, it should be Asher.

“No, I’ve been wracking my brain, but nothing adds up.”

“What happened the last time you saw him?”

He digs his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “The last time I saw him was at our father’s funeral, about a week after the school shooting.” He shrugs. “But he was fine…up until the last few minutes.”

“Care to elaborate?”

He draws in a deep breath. “Our father left everything in his will to me. I told Preston I’d write him a check, but not until he followed certain conditions.”

Revulsion coils my insides and I hold up a hand. “On second thought, I don’t think I’m the best person to talk to about this. As someone who’s been dealing with my own family member’s conditions for most of her life, I’m far too subjective not to be biased.”

“That’s different. Your grandmother wanted to make your life miserable. I wanted to help my brother.”

I motion for his jacket. “Go on.”

“The terms were simple. I’d pay for his tuition at Yale, and after he graduated, I’d cut him a check for half the money—provided he quit gambling for those two years. This way, when I forked over millions, he’d do the right thing and not blow it all.”

To say I’m dumbfounded would be an understatement. I’m sure Preston didn’t like hearing that he had to give up gambling, but his brother was only trying to do right by him.

“And he said no?”

“Turned me down on the spot.”

He pulls what looks like a joint out of his pocket. When I raise an eyebrow, he says, “It’s not weed. The NFL would can my ass so fast my head would spin if I failed a drug test.” He lights it and makes a face. “This here is some organic, herbal crap Breslin and Landon found for me. It’s not as good as the real stuff, but it helps with my anxiety.”

A bittersweet feeling snags me as I recall the time Asher and Landon showed up at my dorm and we ended up higher than attendees at a Bob Marley concert. Mere hours after Becca broke my heart. “Hey, whatever works.” I shift my weight from foot to foot. “Did you say anything after that? Anything that might have upset him?”

He shakes his head. “No. Although, I was pretty pissed when he told me he dropped out of school and even more pissed when he told me he came there to say goodbye because he was in trouble and had to skip town.”

“What kind of trouble was he in?”

“Fuck if I know, he didn’t say. He got in his car and took off.”

I motion for Asher to give me the joint. “So, he told you he was in trouble, and then left?”

“Pretty much. I mean, he didn’t tell me he was in trouble, but it was obvious.”

“How so?”

He takes the joint back from me. “Because I know my brother. Besides, why else would he leave town?”

Pressing the heel of my palm to my eyes, I let out a groan. Asher isn’t much better than his brother is when it comes to thinking of others.

“I don’t know, maybe because the guy found out he wasn’t the father of his girlfriend’s baby, survived a school shooting, and lost a parent just days before. It’s safe to say he had a lot going on.” I peer up at him. “The last time I saw him was at the hospital after…you know.” An image of Becca on her knees permeates my brain and I close my eyes. “He didn’t seem upset then, but how was he after?”

Asher’s shoulders sag. “I don’t know.”  

“Huh?”

He plops down on a nearby curb.  “I was so worried about Landon, I never checked in with him at all that week.” He stubs out his joint. “No wonder he doesn’t want to talk to me. He needed someone to talk to back then and I wasn’t there.”

I’m not going to kick my friend when he’s already down. It’s not like I thought about Preston’s perspective back then either, I was too busy hating his guts.

I take a seat next to him. “You had your own shit going on. Landon was fighting for his life because Kyle…” Bile surges up my throat as another slew of images…awful ones, rip through me. “We all had things we were going through back then. Things we were trying to cope with.”  

Some of us have things we’re still trying to cope with. Things we’ll never be able to forget.

Asher’s brows knit together. “You okay?”

No.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “The good news is, now that you know what the issue is, you can start taking the steps to fix it.”

He stands. “You’re right.”

Before I can say a word, he starts walking in the direction of my apartment.

“Wait,” I yell, chasing after him. Asher might be ready to boogie, but Preston’s not quite there yet. “Not so fast.”

“Why?”

“Preston doesn’t want to talk to you right now. I think you should give him a little more—”

Evidently not listening to me runs in their DNA because Asher continues up the stairs to my apartment and barges through my front door.

To say Preston’s not thrilled to see his brother would be putting it mildly.

“I dropped the ball, Preston. You needed your big bro to be there and help you fix everything, and I wasn’t.” Before Preston has a chance to process what’s happening, Asher throws his arms around him. “I’m sorry.”

The sound of Preston’s fist connecting with Asher’s cheek can be heard across the Atlantic. “Touch me again and I’ll rip both your arms off and end your career, motherfucker.”

My heart aches when Asher’s face falls.

“Preston—”

“Did you put him up to this?” The glare he aims at me sends a chill up my spine. “Did you tell him to come up here, apologize, and then hug me?”

“No, I—”

“She didn’t put me up to anything, shithead,” Asher unhelpfully supplies.

Preston bares his teeth. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Stop.” I stand between them. “First of all, this is my apartment. And the first rule of Kit’s place is there’s no fighting in Kit’s place.”

Asher rubs his cheek. “You’ve got that all wrong, small fry. It’s—the first rule of fight cl—”

Asher doesn’t get to finish that sentence because Preston takes a swing at him over my head. “One boyfriend and one girlfriend aren’t enough for you? You have to try and take my girl, too?”

“What?” Me and Asher yell at the same time.

Preston’s officially gone off the deep end if he thinks Asher and I are interested in one another.

Asher appears to be as baffled as I am. “What the hell are you talking about? Kit’s been my fr—”

“Not anymore she isn’t.” The look in Preston’s eyes is downright menacing. “Kit isn’t your anything, bonehead. She’s my wife.”

Mamma Mia, I’ve never had one guy fight over me, let alone two. It’s awful. Why in the world do women dig it so much?

Asher puffs out his chest and I can tell he’s nearing the end of his fuse. “A little obsessive for a fake marriage, don’t you think?” He flicks a hand in my direction. “But hey, it seems like you treat your wife much better than your past girlfriends, so bravo. Controlling douchebag is a step up from lying, cheating, scumbag.”

My stomach knots because that ugly side of Asher is officially out and without Landon and Breslin here to help defuse the situation, it could get bad. Real bad.

Preston’s laugh is callous. “That’s real funny coming from the guy who lied to his high school sweetheart while he was off getting blow jobs from that psychopath Kyle.”

Talk about a low blow.

Placing one hand on Preston’s chest, and the other on Asher’s, I part them like the red sea. “All right, boys. I think we all need to chill.”

“Him or me?”

Now Preston’s just being difficult. “You can’t be serious.”  

My heart spasms when he starts trudging toward the front door. “Guess I have my answer.”

Oh, this bastard.

I reach for his arm. “You. My choice is always you, jackass.”

Even when I hate your guts.

“But for the record, if you cared about me you would never make me choose. You’d either tell your brother what he did and how he could gain your forgiveness, or you’d man the hell up and find a way to coexist in the same room with him for my sake.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Asher mutters. “Preston doesn’t do anything for anyone that doesn’t directly benefit him.”

“I think it’s best you go for now.”

I hate making Asher leave, but Preston and Asher aren’t going to fix their issues tonight and the longer he stays, the worse it will get.

Preston opens the door. “You heard my wife. Get the fuck out.”

Asher laughs. but there’s not a drop of humor. “You know, you keep using that word like it means something. But everyone in this room knows exactly why you married Kit.”

He has a point, and yet, my ticker has officially put Asher on her shit list for the night. “Ash—”

He holds up a hand. “Hold on, I’m about to do you a big favor.” His eyes swivel to Preston. “Since you like gambling so much, brother—I say we place a bet on how long it will take you to plow through her parents’ money before you toss her to the side like used toilet paper.” He smirks when Preston stays silent. “What’s the matter? You haven’t given her a sob story and convinced her to cut you a check yet?”

He digs his wallet out of his pocket and throws a wad of cash in Preston’s face. “Don’t worry, this one’s on me. Because I’ll bet every cent I make this year that you’ll fuck her life up before the first six months of your marriage is over. Just like you do everything else.”

He looks at me. “I’ve been cleaning up his messes for most of my life—so when he screws you over, you know where to find me.”

With that, Asher walks out.

I close the door and lean against it. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but I don’t have many family members left. I’m down to a grandmother who delights in controlling and torturing me, and an uncle who most likely murdered my parents. I know you can’t stand him—but your brother, Breslin, and Landon...they’re my family. They took me in when I had no one. And now you’re making me lose them too.”

Preston’s face softens. “I’m sorry.”

I raise my chin. “That’s two for two tonight.”

He takes a step closer, but I grab my jacket so I can return Asher’s to him.

“Where are you going?”

“To tell off your brother.” I open the front door. “You were a jerk to him, but he’s dead wrong about you.”

“Hey,” I call out when I reach the parking lot.

Asher continues walking, like he doesn’t even hear me.

Must be another Holden trait.

I start sprinting when he turns the corner and heads down the street.

I call his name again and when he doesn’t stop, I throw a snowball at his back. “Don’t ignore me.”

He turns to face me, hands on his hips. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Holden. Was there something you wanted from me?”

I know he’s mad, but he’s taking it out on the wrong person. “I get that you’re upset, and I know Preston can be infuriatingly frustrating and difficult, but he doesn’t deserve to be treated or talked to like that.”

His jaw works. “Weird. All this time I thought you hated my brother and we were friends.”

“We are. And friends are honest with one another. Friends tell each other when they’re wrong. And you’re wrong about your brother—who yes, I did hate at one point. But there’s more to him than what you think. Give him a chance to prove it.”

“Give him a chance?” He points a thumb in the direction of my apartment building. “Twice today I’ve given him a chance.”

“No, the only thing you’ve done was try to make him talk to you. And when he wouldn’t, you cut him down and threw his past in his face. That’s not giving someone you love a chance, Asher. That’s intentionally hurting them because they’re not doing what you want.” Pressure tightens against my ribs. “No wonder he is the way he is. How is he supposed to get his act together and believe he’s capable of stopping the self-destructive spiral he’s been in when no one else does? Not even his own family.”

He looks down at the ground and curses.

“What?”

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

The implication is like a brick to the face. “No—”

“Look, he’s my brother so I have no choice but to love him.” He sighs deeply. “And you’re my friend, which means I have to warn you that it won’t end well.” A deep frown lines his mouth. “There is good in him like you said. But relationships have never been something he was good at. They’re something he avoids. You’re a sweet girl and I know you want to help him. But please, don’t delude yourself into thinking you can change him. You’re not the first girl to have stars in her eyes when it comes to my brother, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

“I don’t—”

“If you think Becca broke your heart, my brother will throw it in a blender and have it for a midnight snack.”

The organ he’s referring to squeezes and threatens to go on strike.

Chill out, heart. We’re not interested in Preston.

He takes his beanie off and runs a hand through his hair. “Not to mention, Breslin will go postal if she loses you again.” He folds his arms and stares me down. “And if she’s upset…I’m upset.”

Good Lord, he’s being far too dramatic about this. “No one is losing anyone. It’s not like that between us. We’re not in a romantic relationship.”

He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “Then what exactly is going on between you two?”

“We’re sort of, kind of…friends. It’s…he doesn’t have anyone.” When he starts to argue, I hold up a hand. “He’s choosing not to have anyone. But sometimes, he lets me in.” I clutch my chest, images of Preston from earlier slamming through me. “He’s going through some stuff, Asher. I don’t know what, because we haven’t broken that barrier, but I know it’s bad. Real bad. He won’t admit it, but he needs someone.”

He stays silent as I continue. “So even though it might piss you off and upset Breslin, you two can’t stop me from being his friend. Unlike everyone else, I’m not giving up on him.”

After what feels like an eternity, he speaks. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me...” I gape at him. “I don’t get you. One second you love and miss your brother and the next you—”

“I’m frustrated, Kit!” He kicks a piece of black ice, sending it sailing. “Preston and me…we used to be close. I hate that he gambles his life away and does stupid shit, but I dealt with it.” His eyes become glassy. “What I can’t deal with—is him looking at me like I’m the biggest piece of shit on the planet.” He shrugs helplessly. “How do I get my little brother back when he despises me?”

The defeat in his voice has my heart folding in on itself and I can’t help but pull him into a hug. Asher’s strong on the outside, but once you crack that shell, the dude is a big mush.

“I know it’s hard, but I think the best thing you can do is find a way to respect Preston’s wishes and give him some time. If you keep pushing him, you’ll only make it worse.” I hand him his jacket. “I’ll try to help, but not until he’s ready.”

“I hate it, but I guess you’re right.” He blows out a breath. “I’m gonna jog back to the hotel.”

“It’s freezing outside. Let me drive you.”

“Nah, I don’t want to piss him off.”

I steer him back to the parking lot. “As long as you don’t go up there and hug him again, it will be fine.” I point to my car. “Hang out over there while I run upstairs and tell him.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But if he punches me again, I’m kicking him in the nuts.”

“Don’t. Those puppies have already taken a beating over the last few days.”

I ignore the look he gives me and race up the stairs to my apartment.

“Don’t get mad, but I’m giving your brother a ride back to his hotel,” I say as I open the front door. “I’ll bring you back food so you’re not so grumpy, okay?”

No response.

“Preston?”

Given he’s not in the living room or kitchen, I walk down the hall and check the bedroom.

Nerves bunch in my stomach when I check the bathroom next. Empty.

My heart’s in my throat when I check the laundry room and notice his suit and phone are gone.

And it bottoms out completely when I see the note he left.