I look at the house one last time before I leave. It's five in the morning, and the sun hasn't come up yet. I'm slinking away from this place like a coward, without saying a damn thing to Addy. Not even goodbye. And certainly not the other thing I should say, the thing that really matters.

The cab driver closes the trunk and I sink back into the seat, refusing to turn around and give the place a backwards glance. It's better this way. I said goodbye to our parents last night. My father gave me his one sentence of sage advice: "Don't fuck up the Marines."

Addy was the one person I wanted to see, but she was gone last night, out at a movie or something with her friends, and I didn't wake her this morning. Those are the excuses I gave myself, and they're total bullshit. I could have seen her. I just didn't have the balls.

I stare at the envelope in my hand, the note I was going to leave for her but chickened out before I could slip it under her door. Instead, I stood there staring at her door this morning, my heart beating loudly in my chest, willing her to open the door so I could tell her in person. I slip the envelope in my backpack. Fuck it.

I'll get over her, I tell myself.

The problem is, I know when I'm lying to myself, and this lie is a big one. Addy isn't the kind of girl you ever get over.

* * *

"I'm not going inside," she says. She's standing by the car, her umbrella over her head, which looks ridiculous since she's already soaked through to the bone. I'm standing an appropriate foot away from her, just in case anyone is watching us, when I really want to finish what we started. "I don't want to see them, especially after…"

"After I had my tongue inside you?"

If the darkness and the rain weren't obscuring my vision, I'd say Addy was blushing something fierce. I love seeing her blush. "Yes," she says, bringing her hand to her mouth like she's remembering. "They'll know something happened."

"If we don't go inside, they'll wonder where we are," I say.

"I texted my mother and told her I wasn't feeling well and you were taking me home." Just then, Addy's phone lights up and she checks it. "Shit. My mother says there's flooding down the hill. The bridge is out."

"The bridge is out," I repeat.

"Fuck."

My cock should deflate at this news, but it doesn't. It's hard still, pressed up against the zipper of my jeans as I look at Addy, soaking wet, her formerly filmy shirt now completely transparent and clinging to her breasts. "I guess you'll have to lust after me a while longer," I say.

""Me lust after you?" she asks, smiling. "You're the one with a huge -- "

"A huge cock? Yeah, I know. But thanks for noticing. They don't call me Cannon for nothing."

"I was going to say a huge hard-on," she says, giggling. "People call you Cannon because it's your middle name, not because of your dick size."

"Have you ever seen my cock?" I ask.

"No," she says.

Not yet, I think. "Exactly. When you do, you'll understand."

Addy laughs, the sound light. "You're full of yourself."

"You're about to be full of me too, sweet cheeks."

She slaps my arm. "Not in the parents' house," she says.

I pause for a minute when I reach the door, Addy behind me. "You sure the Wicked Bitch isn't lying?" I ask.

Addy rolls her eyes. "I forgot you used to call her that. I haven't heard anyone say that in years. No, of course I'm not sure. But you know it's true – remember, it used to always go out when it down-poured. It was one of the things you hated about being up here."

I exhale loudly. I turn around, my back against the door. "Being stuck here doesn't change anything, you know," I whisper. "I still intend to make you come on my cock tonight."

Addy's face flushes red, and I feel pleased with myself. "Who calls you Cannon?" she asks. "Girlfriends? Is it girlfriends?"

I laugh, opening the door and letting us inside, where we're immediately greeted by the Wicked Bitch herself, walking down the hallway. "I can't believe the two of you," she hisses. "Embarrassing yourselves like that. And humiliating your father and I. This dinner was about business, Addison Stone, and since you apparently don't think enough about your future to care about business deals, I'm left doing that for you."

"It didn't look like business, Mother," Addy says, her voice clipped. "It looked like a blind date. Not that I asked you to set me up with anyone. Did you ever think that might be awkward for me?"

"Why would it be awkward? Are you and Jared back together? You are, aren't you? Jesus Christ, Addison, he's such a PR nightmare."

"I'm not back with anyone, Mother," she says, sighing. "Can I just go get changed? Are there any clothes here I can change into?"

"I don't know why the two of you left dinner and went running around outside in the rain," Wendy says, turning and walking down the hallway. We follow her, and I note how much inside the house has changed since I was here last. Everything has been redecorated, modern and clean and devoid of charm. It fits Addy's mother. "I'll have the maid bring you some dry clothes. Honestly, what on earth did the two of you have to talk about out in the downpour?"

"I was telling Addy why everyone took to calling me Cannon after I left home," I say. Beside me, Addy chokes. She tries to cover it up by coughing several times, but her face is red.

"See? You caught your death out there, and now you're taxing your voice by coughing. I'll have the maid bring you up some hot tea. I wouldn't think telling Addison about your middle name would warrant running around outside like a couple of lunatics. Besides, didn't you ride around in tanks or something? It seems like an obvious thing to call you. I mean, you're a soldier."

"I was a Marine, Wendy," I correct her, irritation in my voice. "Actually, it was a long story that was hard to tell." I emphasize the words, hoping the innuendo is clear to Addy, and by the way she's practically doubled over now, I can see it is. I can't tell if she's laughing or coughing or dying of embarrassment.

The Wicked Bitch rolls her eyes. "I told the Colonel that hiring you wasn't a smart idea. Leaving the table at dinner was unconscionable. I'm so angry with you I can hardly stand to look at you."

If she could hardly speak, it would be a hell of a lot better.

She dismisses us with a gesture. "Go," she says. "You're in your old rooms – they're guest rooms now. But you can find your way. The Bentons are staying in the guest house. You'll have an opportunity to redeem yourselves in the morning."

Addy nods. "Whatever you say, Mother." She's up the stairs quickly, glad, I'm sure, to get out from under her mother's penetrating gaze.

The Wicked Bitch narrows her eyes at me. "Addy is a disaster," she says. "Constantly sabotaging herself at every turn."

"The only thing that's close to a disaster I've seen is you and my father's meddling in her life," I say.

The Wicked Bitch smiles smugly. "You've always had a soft spot for her, haven't you?" she asks. "You've always been blind where she's concerned. I told your father that, and he insisted you were different. The Marines have changed him, he said. He's responsible. Trustworthy. Addy's always looked up to him. And you've been back in her life for all of what, a minute? You think you know her?"

"She's twenty-two," I say, "She's not seventeen. You're her manager and that's it. You don't run her life. And from where I stand, she's done a good job of that."

Addy's mother laughs. "She nearly lost her record deal," she says. "And you know nothing. You think she's not texting that boyfriend of hers? Or sneaking around with him? Ask her about it. You think you have a handle on her? She's charming you the way she does everyone else."

Anger rushes through me at the idea of Addy being with anyone, much less the douchebag ex-boyfriend who'd better not be in the picture, so help me God. "You don't think I'm doing my job? Fire me."

"I'm not going to fire you," the Wicked Bitch says. "That would make her rebel even more. But you're going to keep me apprised of what's going on. I'm her manager. I need to know."

"Every detail," I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Should I make you know what she eats and what time she takes a shit? I can send photos if you like."

"You're crude," she says.

I shrug. "I guess you can take the man out of the Marines, but you can't take the Marine out of the man, huh?"

She wrinkles her nose, looking at me like she's smelling something repulsive. "They didn't teach you diplomacy in the military."

"Diplomacy isn't exactly a priority," I say. "Any other job advice?"

"Watch yourself, Hendrix," she says. "Addy will have you wrapped around your finger in no time at all. She's a manipulator."

"Actually, I think you have her confused with someone else," I say. "You." I turn to head up the stairs, wondering if she suspects anything between her daughter and me. I wonder if what happened outside, or hell, the thoughts I've been having, are written all over my face.