I wake up to an empty bed. At first, I think I dreamed him crawling into my bed. Then I smell his scent on my pillow and I know it wasn’t a dream. Bruno came to my apartment, let himself in, and then helped himself into my bed.

When I should be mad, I can’t stop myself from smiling.

Yep, clearly, I’m still having a mental breakdown.

No sane person would be smiling about what had happened. Only me. Only now. A few months ago, I’d have stomped into the kitchen to knee him in the balls and then call the cops to report him for breaking and entering. But the new me, the one with cancer, is grateful that, for the first time in a long time, I’m no longer alone.

My mind’s racing, moving wild and crazy from thought to thought, and I can’t stop it. I roll over, burying my face in the pillow and inhaling the remnants of Bruno left behind, and I cackle.

Yep, I cackle like a crazy person.

“Cal.”

I groan, almost wishing I could suffocate myself with the pillow. I imagine how I look right now. My head glistening in the sunlight, my bare ass on display with my face buried in the pillow and laughing like a lunatic—it has to be a sight.

He whistles as I feel around my sides for the blanket to cover myself. My body rolls and I wrap the comforter around me as I move. “Enjoy the show?” I ask and I glare at him.

“Immensely.” He grins, resting his body against the doorframe with his arms crossed and looking especially happy. He pushes off and comes toward me quickly. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how pissed are you at me?”

“About twenty,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes at him when he sits down on the bed.

“Good.”

My fingers dig into the blankets instead of strangling him. “Why is that good?”

“Anger is a good emotion.”

“Huh?”

“It motivates people.”

“Listen, Tony Robbins, I don’t need motivation.” My jaw clenches and my teeth scrape together as I try to control my breathing.

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

Ugh.

“Why?”

“I’m taking you somewhere.”

I shake my head and tense. “I’m not leaving the house.”

He nods and keeps freaking smiling. “We have an appointment, and we’re keeping it.”

I grit my teeth. “What?”

“It’s a secret.”

I roll my eyes without even realizing it. “For fuck’s sake. I hate secrets.”

He touches my hand, which has been fisting the blankets against my chest. “This one you’ll love.”

“I should have you arrested for breaking in last night.”

“You won’t.”

“I can.”

“But you won’t.”

Gah. This man makes me crazy. “How are you so sure?”

He laughs and pats my hand before standing. “I didn’t break in. I used a key.”

My mouth falls open and I try to form words, but nothing comes.

“So up you go. We have a busy day planned.”

“You.” I point at him and inch down under the covers to bury myself. “I don’t have any plans. I’m just going to lie here and be pissed off at you.”

He holds his stomach, doubling over as he laughs louder. “Be pissed all you want, but by the end of the day, you’re going to kiss me.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Fuck,” I hiss and know it’s a losing battle.

“Up,” he tells me again and rips the covers off the bed from the bottom. In one fell swoosh, my entire naked body is visible.

“Goddamn.” I scramble to my feet, using my hands as shields.

“Don’t cover the good stuff.”

“Turn around!” I screech, bouncing from foot to foot, still covering myself.

“I could use a shower.” He stretches and every muscle in his torso contracts. I salivate, finding myself pausing midbounce to have a look-see. “You want to join me?” He smirks.

Suddenly, I remember I’m supposed to be pissed and I wipe the lust from my mind. He stalks forward and pushes my hands away from my body. His eyes creep across my skin as he takes his time to get his fill. “You’re way too thin, Callie. What the fuck have you been doing while I was gone?”

“You weren’t gone,” I correct him. My face heats and I’m flooded with embarrassment from my nudity and for pushing him away.

“Have you been eating?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

I cross my arms over my chest to shield myself. “Yes.”

He moves his face closer, his eyes growing dark and serious. “What have you been eating?”

“Crackers and stuff.”

“Stuff?” He glares.

I can’t move. “Crackers.”

“Jesus.” He drags his hand across the top of his head and breaks eye contact. “I knew you’d pull this shit.”

My face scrunches as if I ate something sour. “Excuse me?”

“I knew you wouldn’t take care of yourself. I decided to give you some time alone. Give you time to work shit out and deal with the journey ahead.”

“You make it sound like it’s a road trip.” I snort.

He doesn’t laugh. “I gave you space, and you let yourself fall apart.”

I motion down my body, letting him get another look. “I seem to be in one piece.”

“Barely. A good gust of wind could knock you down.”

“You’re not in charge of me, Bruno,” I snarl.

He moves closer and our noses touch. “Someone needs to be.”

I squeak from the contact.

“Your bullshit is over.”

My eyes grow wide.

“You’ve had your time to deal, throw a fit, cry your eyes out, and mourn the life you had.” He grips me above the elbows and squeezes gently. “Your pity party is over. It’s time to fight.”

“Are you going to be my trainer?” I bite my lip and want to laugh.

His hands pulse as he grips a little tighter before releasing his hold and straightening. “Stop being a smartass.”

I smile up at him, feigning innocence. “I’m not.”

He walks behind me, running his finger down my side. I shiver from the lightness, from the sexual nature of the motion. After his hand curves around my ass, he swats it. “In the shower.”

I look at him over my shoulder and refuse to soothe the skin he’s just struck. “Alone.”

There’s no smile on his face. “You’re too skinny and frail. Someone has to be there in case you start to fall.”

I growl, but he growls louder. I roll my eyes and stomp toward the bathroom with my arms crossed. “I’m not fucking you!” I called out.

“I don’t fuck twigs, babe. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

I glare at him as I stand next to the shower. “I’m not a twig. You fuckin’ lie, Bruno. I’m sure you’ve fucked every skinny bitch on the club scene.”

“Cal,” he warns, walking toward me before holding my face in his hands. “My life is my life. It’s in the past. It’s not important. We’re talking about now.”

“So you’re saying you fucked the ‘skinny bitches’?” I use air quotes to drive my point home. “But you won’t fuck me?”

“You said you didn’t want me to fuck you.” His eyes narrow. “And—” he puts his finger against my lips before I can reply “—stop calling them bitches. It’s not nice to name-call.”

My scowl grows more intense. “Fine,” I mumble against his finger and glance toward the shower.

“After you.” He holds out his hand and waits for me to walk inside.

“I start the water first.”

“What?” He looks at me, totally confused.

“I start the water first and let it get warm before I get in. Doesn’t everyone?”

He reaches into the shower and turns on the faucet as we lock eyes and don’t say a word. After a minute, he tests the water and motions for me to get in.

I nod, still not wanting to speak to him, and walk inside. Even though I move toward the back, Bruno follows. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me under the water and against his body, but I don’t fight back.

“Don’t worry,” he tells me, stroking my back lightly to soothe me. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

I regret my earlier statement. Bruno has a body that should be touched. His wide shoulders sit atop his massive chest, matching perfectly. There isn’t a blemish anywhere. Not a tattoo or a scar visible to the naked eye. I figured, in his line of work, he’d be riddled with old wounds, but there is nothing.

I bite my tongue to stop myself from asking him. I’m not going to be the one to break the silence. I catch him checking me out a few times, but I pretend to be angry.

Bruno pours shower gel in his hands before stroking my arms, gently soaping my skin and keeping his eyes on me the entire time. I close my eyes, avoiding his gaze, and revel in the feeling of him against me. Even if it’s innocent, it feels amazing. But the way he’s touching me isn’t sexual. This is more. Something bigger.

After we get out and towel off, I grab the robe from the back of the door and put it on, pulling it tightly around me. It’s like an invisible shield of protection, and I need it with him around me.

He grabs some clothes from a duffle bag sitting next to my closet and doesn’t say a word. I wonder what else is inside, but instead of looking, I head into my closet to get dressed.

Crap. What should I wear? He hasn’t told me where we’re going. I don’t know if it’s casual or if I need to look together and professional. I sigh as I pace back and forth a few times, and I know I have to be the one to speak first.

“Bruno,” I whisper near the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Where are we going? I don’t know what to wear.” I peek through the crack and catch a glimpse of him slipping on his jeans just as they cover his ass. It’s a magnificent ass too. Plump, round, and hard as nails.

“Just dress casual.”

Grrr. I grab a pair of jeans and a tank top, slipping them on before sliding on my favorite pair of sandals—nothing too high. I can’t take a chance of falling with the dizzy spells I’ve been having. Before I leave the closet, I grab a black fedora to hide my bald head. When I walk out, he’s sitting on the bed, staring at his phone.

“Ready?” I ask.

He glances up but doesn’t speak. He stalks out of the room, sliding the phone into his back pocket, and doesn’t wait up.

“Yay,” I cheer quietly so only I can hear and head toward the front door. “Kick-ass.”

I can already tell it’s going to be one of those days. What started as an awkward shower is going to turn into an awkward day.