“Yes, girl, that color,” Lizzie’s friend Shaelyn said, selecting a purple lipstick out of one of Lizzie’s many makeup drawers. “Do me up.”

Tonight was Lizzie’s first EOCC meeting, and even though she knew it wasn’t meant to be fancy, she’d still invited the girls over for makeup and hair. Both Shaelyn Taylor and Anna were already members, thanks to the fact that they co-owned the lingerie boutique, La Parisienne, down in the Quarter. The cousins were nothing alike: Anna’s fairylike features to Shaelyn’s dark hair, Anna’s classy demeanor to Shaelyn’s snarkier attitude.

“You’re really going to go for purple?” asked Jade from her perch on Lizzie’s cushioned leather bench. Although Jade didn’t own a business, local or otherwise, they’d planned to squirrel her inside the event anyway.

No one said that girls’ nights out in one’s thirties had to be boring.

“I’m sorry,” Shae said, “who’s the one with the baby at home already? You don’t even want to know the last time I wore a lipstick that wasn’t nude. I’m starved for excitement here, y’all.”

Snickering a little, Lizzie uncapped the liquid lipstick and felt a little burst of joy when Shaelyn glanced up at her. Long lashes. Peach blush. Dusty, neutral color eyeshadows. “The purple will look good. Just be prepared for it to stain your lips.”

“Perfect,” Shae said with a wink, “it’ll just give Brady a chance to kiss it off of me.”

“Because he needs a reason to kiss you at all.” Anna paused at the full-length mirror, admiring Lizzie’s makeup masterpiece. She’d chosen a sultrier look for the blonde: red lips, black, winged liner, shimmery highlight across the crests of her cheekbones. “Every time I come over to your house, there you two are making out like teenagers.”

Smugly, Shaelyn shrugged her shoulders. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

Jade laughed. “I used to be irresistible. Now I’m just the size of a beached whale.” She curved a hand over her belly. “Did I tell y’all the last time I saw my vagina?”

“No,” Lizzie said, swiping purple in expert strokes along Shae’s lips, “but I have a feeling you’re going to tell us.”

“Thirty-six days. Thirty-six days! They don’t tell you that crap in those pregnancy books. I forget what it looks like.”

“Good thing your husband hasn’t,” Shaelyn muttered, earning a sharp bark from Lizzie, and an even louder, “Rules! Remember rule number seven, please.”

“No sex talk about Lizzie’s brother in her presence,” intoned Jade. “Anyway, we can’t have sex anymore. It’s really sad and I think I saw him limping the other day.”

“Blue balls will do that to a guy.”

Lizzie swatted Shae playfully on the arm. “I told you, lady, no sex talk about my brother. I have sensitive ears.”

“Hey, Liz, your phone is ringing.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have thrown herself at Jade so obviously, but there was nothing to be done about it. Be Gage, be Gage. She’d texted him hours ago about him joining them at EOCC, and it was perhaps the reason she’d dolled up tonight more than she had recently.

Blown-out brown hair, fake lashes, burgundy lip color. Her dress was silver and just a little shimmery under the light, but still remained perfectly respectable. Professional. Yup, that was her.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the phone from her sister-in-law, her heart in her throat.

His name on her screen made her belly all fluttery. She opened the text.

Felt her shoulders droop with disappointment a moment later.

“Is that Gage?” Anna asked softly. “He can’t make it?”

“No, he can’t.” Lizzie moved over to her vanity mirror, sent him back a quick text, and then shoved her phone in her purse. She had no reason to be disappointed. Life happened; sometimes you didn’t get everything you wanted. Plus, she never minded a night out with her friends. “Y’all ready to go?”

By the time they arrived at the restaurant where the event was taking place, down in the French Quarter, Jade barely made it in the front door before excusing herself for the bathroom.

“Pregnancy pees are the worst,” Shaelyn announced loudly as they received stamps on their hands at the entrance, taking note of the male attendant’s pinched expression. “Do you want us to ask her to come back over here when she’s done?”

“Uh . . . no, you’re good.” Name badges were shoved at them. “Tell her she’s all set. Y’all have a good night now.”

Tossing a wink in Lizzie’s direction, Shaelyn linked her arm with Anna’s, and sauntered into a large dining area.

Why Lizzie had expected a scene out of a homecoming dance, she didn’t know—but it was nothing like that. Men milled about in business casual attire; the women were dressed in more variety: skirts, dresses, pants.

Lizzie tugged down the hem of her dress. When she’d attended a makeup brand’s launch party some months back, her dress had been perfect and she’d blended right in with the other beauty influencers. Tonight, she was definitely on the top scale of overdressed.

Even her friends had gone with traditional pant suits.

Her shoulders squared. Well, once a YouTuber always a YouTuber. Her version of casual would always be a few notches closer to the extreme.

Her gaze caught on a familiar figure across the space, over by the buffet table. “Oh, look, Owen’s here already. C’mon, let me introduce y’all.”

He must have sensed their approach because he turned at nearly the same time, grabbed a bottle off the table, and headed toward them as well. He didn’t smile in greeting, but she figured that wasn’t quite his thing.

“You made it,” he said, his voice so very similar and yet radically different than Gage’s. “I hoped I didn’t have to eat the food by myself again this month.”

Laughing, Anna leaned forward and held out her hand. “Anna O’Connor. My husband works with your twin?”

“Yeah.” Owen nodded slowly, dark hair falling forward. “Luke’s come in a time or two when Gage has been working at Inked. Nice to meet you.”

Not to be left out, Shaelyn introduced herself and immediately went in for the kill: “What’s the weirdest place you’ve ever tattooed someone before? Don’t spare us the details, please.”

“Tattooed or pierced?” Owen asked and then sank one hand into the front pocket of his black slacks.

Shaelyn’s hazel eyes went wide, purple lips parting. “Both?”

“It has to be the tongue for the tattooing. It’s more common than people think, but I hate it every single time. As for the piercing . . .” His dark eyes flashed with muted humor. “Anytime someone walks in wanting a Prince Albert, I have the most ridiculous urge to hand the job over to Gage.”

“A Prince Albert?” Anna echoed.

Lizzie felt her lips curl upward. “You’re evil, Owen Harvey.”

To Anna, he said, “It’s when a dude gets a barbell on the tip of his dick.” Then, he met Lizzie’s gaze. “And you have me to thank for your butterfly. How do you think Gage wound up with that one?”

She shook her head slowly, fighting back a laugh. “Totally evil. I mean, I approve of this one-hundred percent, don’t get me wrong. But no wonder he’s always grumbling about how many butterfly tattoos he’s had to ink.” She paused, a thought occurring to her. “Does he know you manipulate the system?”

“You can ask him when he gets here.”

Every muscle in her body froze. Or maybe it was just her knees locked tight and her arms clapped down against her side. “He’s coming here?”

“Yeah . . .” In that quiet way of his, Owen watched her steadily, as though gauging her reaction. “He runs CBR—tonight’s sponsor? Didn’t he tell you he’d be here?”

Well, no. Or rather, he’d mentioned running late to a meeting and she’s figured it had to do with work. She tried to rack her brain for whether she’d told him she’d be attending EOCC specifically, but no, she didn’t think she had.

Obviously, he hadn’t realized she’d be here. A simple mistake, really. It wasn’t as though he’d purposely withheld the information from her.

Although she had absolutely no idea what CBR stood for—had to be a cop thing. Snagging a water bottle from the table, she cracked the lid and turned back to their small group. “I didn’t realize that he ran any organizations.” She sipped the water, placed the cap back on. “Pretty fancy if you ask me.”

Owen scrubbed a hand over his beard. “Yeah, I don’t know if it’s all that fancy or not.”

“What does he do?”

“He really hasn’t mentioned any of this to you?”

Was she missing something here? She checked over her shoulder, searching for any sight of the man who’d captured her heart. Nothing, not yet anyway. “No, he hasn’t.” What could she add? We’re taking it really slow, as in, usually I have to browbeat the information out of him. Or, alternatively: we’re really just fuck buddies, but I made the mistake of falling in love with him, even though I knew it was a bad idea. Oops!

Yeah, neither of those would go over remotely well.

Shaelyn gently bumped her shoulder. “Brady’s mentioned it a few times in passing, I think. Cure for Blue and Red, maybe?”

“Care,” Owen said in a low voice, “it’s care, not cure.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right.” Keeping her shoulder pressed to Lizzie’s, Shaelyn added, “Brady said it’s been great for a lot of the city’s first responders. Providing hotline services for those who need to talk anonymously. Therapy sessions at their facility . . . I can’t remember where the office is based out of, but it’s local. I didn’t realize Gage was the man behind the curtain, so to speak.”

“He keeps a pretty low profile. Generally keeps media focused on the organization as opposed to his involvement with it.” Again, Owen stared at her, and this time Lizzie knew that something had to be up. “You’re really sure he didn’t mention this at all to you?”

She bristled at his incredulous tone. “He didn’t, no.” Lizzie ignored the sting. How many times had they slept together now? How many times had they spent minutes, hours, in his truck just . . . driving? Enough. Not that she’d show her ace, not in front of everyone. “I think it’s great,” she said, twisting and untwisting the bottle in her hands. “I mean, sometimes we all need a little help now and again. I’m glad Gage is able to do that with . . . CBR? Right, CBR.”

“CBR?” said Jade as she strolled up to them, waddling like a penguin after a long stint in the water. “Nathan’s mentioned them a few times over the last few years, and that he often saw Gage at one of the therapy sessions.” She paused, her dark eyes blinking back at them from an array of the false lashes Lizzie had stuck on. One was askew, a clear sign that Jade had already scrubbed her eye without second thought. “Is Gage the one who runs it?”

“Yes.” How had everyone known but her? Had she lived under a rock for the last however many years?

No, you’ve just been involved in the makeup world.

Great, now she sounded shallow even in her own head.

“What aren’t you saying, Owen?” Dark eyes flicked away, strained, and Lizzie pressed on. “I don’t get why this is such a big fuss or a secret. It’s good that Gage does this for the NOPD. I mean, isn’t that what we want our officers to be? Healthy, both mentally and physically?”

“It’s not the fact that he runs it, Lizzie, it’s the why behind it all.”

The why behind it all? That didn’t even make sense.

God, between the twin Harvey brothers, she was tired of constantly going in circles. Whatever they said had a secret meaning—hell, two secret meanings—and it was exhausting. “Owen, just spit it out, would—”

His voice cut over a microphone, and Lizzie whirled around, the start of a smile already on her face. It faltered when she saw him, still dressed in his black BDU’s, his NOPD hat drawn low over his head, shielding his eyes.

His shoulders, the line of his spine all indicated that he was done.

Shit went down at work—hadn’t he said that in his text earlier? She knew from watching her brother and stepfather that living the life of a cop was more than a little difficult.

Unable to stop herself, she stepped forward, closer to the raised stage, closer to him.

“Sorry, y’all,” came his rugged, west Louisiana-tinted voice over the mic, “I unfortunately had some minor difficulties at work. Actually, they were pretty major—I’m already rambling.”

The crowd laughed lightly, as though charmed to have a rough and handsome police officer within their midst.

“I had a speech,” he continued, “and obviously it’s at my house, along with my civilian clothes. I guess y’all are gonna have to put up with whatever I come up with for the next few minutes. If I ramble, just . . . don’t ignore me.”

“You’re too sexy to ignore!” shouted a female voice from the back of the pack.

Lizzie glared, then tugged on the hem of her dress again. Guess she wasn’t the only not-quite-professional person they’d let inside the doors tonight.

“Yeah, thanks.” Gage laughed awkwardly, brim of his hat tipping down as he looked at the stage floor. “First, just want to give a quick shout out to Savannah Rose for letting Care for Blue and Red sponsor tonight’s activities. Drinks are on me, y’all.” There was more enthusiastic clapping. “All right, so, for those of you who don’t know, CBR is a local organization geared toward supporting all first responders and their families. We’ve been runnin’ strong for six years now, providing help to those who need it. In our line of work, a lot of the scars aren’t on the outside. I mean, we’ve all got those, too.”

The water bottle crinkled in Lizzie’s hands. Why had he kept this a secret? The question ran on repeat in her head, refusing to move on. Be calm, girl, don’t leap to conclusions.

Gage unhitched the microphone from the stand and stepped back. “So yeah, we have those outer scars. No one really notices the ones that seep beneath the skin, though, sometimes not even our own friends and family. The increasing alcohol intake, the sleepless nights, the fact that we become so ingrained in the job, that we leave and can’t turn off that part of our brain. Anyone in here know a first responder? Firefighter? EMT?”

Hands raised.

Lizzie’s hand stayed wrapped around her water bottle, unwilling to draw attention to herself. She wanted to hear what he had to say—without him noticing her presence.

“How many times have you heard a cop say, ‘hold on, something ain’t right up there’ just before he or she goes out of their way to approach a situation? Or maybe you see a person at a scene. They’re dressed in plain clothes, but are barking out orders to passerby. I’ve seen it multiple times over. An EMT, off the clock, rushing forward to lend a hand.” Gage let out a self-deprecating laugh. “We are never off the clock, and it takes a toll on ourselves and on our families. I founded CBR in the hope that first responders would have a place to go when they feel anxious or the first threat of depression takes hold. Because at the end of the day”—in that customary way of his, he turned his hat, all Southern charmer—“if our first responders aren’t healthy, if they aren’t at the top of their game, it affects every single one of you. The quality of your calls of service, your wait times when you call 911, everything.”

The water bottle popped in her hand, she’d squeezed it so tight, and Gage’s gaze swung in her direction.

There was nothing she could do, nowhere she could hide.

And so she lifted her chin up and refused to look away.

She watched his chest inflate with a sharply inhaled breath, heard it crackle over the mic, and then he twisted away, commanding the crowd’s attention with his smooth voice, the passion behind every word he uttered.

“CBR’s done well over the last few years to spread the word, but we’d like to push out of Orleans Parish, and for that we need investors. Much as I’d like to say my salary would allow for multiple facilities in multiple towns, I’d be lying.” There were a few hollers of agreement, some cat-call whistling, and another round of applause. “Savannah agreed to set me up tonight and offer more information to anyone willing to contribute. I’d promise payment in response, but the organization doesn’t make a dime. However, I did arrange for a calendar spread with my unit. Shirts were not harmed in the making, and I can guarantee every cop is shirtless and lookin’ good. Anyone have any questions I can answer?”

“What month are you?” a guy shouted. “I’m hoping for December because I’d love to unwrap you.”

Shaelyn spit out her drink beside Lizzie. “Oh man, I’m sorry. So good, though, so good.”

“September,” Gage said, dark eyes concentrated on the guy who’d asked the question, “I believe I was givin’ September by the photographer. Any other questions?”

“Yes, I do.”

Everyone in the room whipped around to face Lizzie, and it was all she could do to keep from sinking into the floor.

Back up, stand straight.

Just like all the times she’d sat around in her pajama pants, a cute top, and her hair and makeup done up to the T for a tutorial.

Lizzie stepped forward, only to be tugged back by a masculine hand around her wrist.

“Don’t,” Owen muttered, fingers letting her go, “if you love him, don’t do that to him. Not in front of everyone.”

She cradled her hand to her chest as though it’d been seared. Don’t do that to him. Clearly, she didn’t have as much of a poker face as she’d like to believe. Yes, she loved Gage Harvey, but was it too much to hope that he wouldn’t shut her down and shut her out?

Owen was right. The EOCC wasn’t the place for her questions, and so she faked a laugh, her old YouTube laugh, and called out, “I bet the photographer had an amazing time with you as the model!”

The crowd erupted into laughter.

Her friends remained quiet at her side.

And Gage, the man who had the ability to ruin her, lifted the mic to his mouth and said, “She did. The time of her life, I believe, and the feeling was mutual.”

Lizzie squashed the fluttering in her heart and turned to Jade. “I need air.”

Her friend’s hand wrapped around hers. “You want company?”

“You’ll be kicked out for good.”

With a wry smile, Jade shook her head. “No one’s going to fight a pregnant woman, mi hermana. Do you want me to go with you?”

No. Some things had to be handled alone, and she suspected even that wouldn’t last for long. As she wound her way through groups of people, she heard Gage calling out her name, following behind her.

She only stopped when she’d entered the hallway, ducking off to the side so that she wouldn’t be slapped by the door each time someone stepped out.

Which Gage did, not even ten seconds later.

Exhausted. As she took in the shadows under his eyes and the stubble on his jaw, it was the only word to come to mind. He looked utterly exhausted.

Well, so was she when it came to playing his mind games.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, crossing her arms over her dress. “Quite a surprise.”

His throat worked with a swallow. “Lizzie, let’s not do this.”

“Do what?” she threw back at him, hating the bitter note in her voice. It wasn’t her. Even when she’d dated Scott, the bitterness had never seeped in and taken root. She was not a bitter person. Taking a calming breath, she tried again. “I feel like you’re constantly winding me up in half-truths, Gage. You pull me in, push me away. Why wouldn’t you tell me about CBR, about an organization that you founded? I mean”—her hands flew up with frustration—“you’ve had plenty of time to do so. You had seven hours stuck in a car with me, and you never mentioned it.”

Mouth flattening, he pressed his hands to the top of his head, over his hat. Chest inflated, shoulders rose up. He looked ready to crack and splinter down the middle.

“I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone that I’m constantly forcing to talk to me.”

There, she’d said it.

“We aren’t dating, Lizzie.”

Oh. Was that the sound of her heart breaking? No, just a random female screaming from the EOCC meeting? Perfect.

Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut. Nope, totally her heart. Four little words and he’d successfully managed to slice it in two and toss the carcass onto the grill for a little pop and sizzle. Might as well get her while she was down, of course.

“You’re a jerk,” she ground out. “I hope you’re aware of that.”

He gaped at her. “Because I told you something that you already knew?”

“No.” She stepped forward, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. “You’re a jerk because you knew all along that I’d fall for you, and that you’d fall for me, and that you would still never let us happen.” Another jab, then another, and another. “You’re a self-sabotager, Gage.”

“That’s not even a word.”

“Does it look like I care?” Fury set aside the hurt and disappointment. Fury at him for putting her in this position, and fury at herself for once again setting herself up for heartbreak. This time it was worse, though, because this time she’d actually allowed herself to picture a future with Gage. Double dates with her friends. Marriage. Kids. The damn white-picket fence that no one had in New Orleans, not that she’d ever seen, at least.

Anger planted her hands on his chest and shoved. He didn’t budge, not even the slightest waver, and that ticked her off even more. “I hope you’re happy, Gage. I hope that when you’re old and gray, you’ll look at this moment and think, damn, I screwed that up. You could have come out here and explained why Owen looked like I’d about run over his dog when I raised my hand. You didn’t. Instead you waltzed out here to inform me that we aren’t dating and you don’t owe me a damn thing.”

The door to the ballroom creaked open, and Gage wrapped a hand around her arm and tugged her down the hallway. He opened a door three over, poked his head in, and gave her a little shove inside.

“You push,” he growled, shutting the door shut behind him, “and you push. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t tell you for a reason? That maybe I liked seeing you look at me with something other than pity?”

“Pity?” Lizzie scoffed, and then bit back a squeak when he cornered her against a desk and a set of chairs. “There’s no reason to pity you, Gage.”

“No? Then let me tell you a story.” His hand came down on her shoulder, directing her to one chair, sitting her down like a good little student. “You want to know the whole, gritty truth? The reason why I created CBR? The reason why, you and me, we’ll never make this official?”

Her knees squeezed together at his sardonic tone, and yes, that was her heart picking up speed, tumbling over itself in pain.

“My grandfather was a cop,” he started, “as was his father. Main difference being that my grandfather died on the job, a traffic stop gone wrong. My grandmother did what she could to raise my dad on her own, and imagine her horror when her only kid decided he wanted to join the NOPD, too. I suppose it’s a stroke of good fortune that she passed away before my dad did.”

As she watched his almost manic hand gestures through the air, Lizzie worried that she’d pushed him too far, that she’d requested a story that would ruin her, just as it had ruined him. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his jaw clenched and unclenched with every step he took, pacing the room like a caged lion.

“My parents separated when I was nine. She loved him, both Owen and I could see that, but my dad’s job took a toll on everyone. Overtime. Details. She’d sit by the damn radio at home, tuned into his district just to hear his voice. To make sure he was safe.” A masculine hand flipped off his hat, tossing it on the chair opposite hers. “When he was at home, it was worse. She begged him to quit. Apply to a different department, she’d ask. Every night for years on end, she pled her case. Until she stopped. That’s when she took us to Hackberry. Sent us to Dad every weekend with letters written to him in our handwriting, even though she dictated every damn thing we wrote.”

“She loved him,” Lizzie whispered, hands curling in her lap. “You can’t fault her for that.”

Black eyes narrowed, and he averted his face. “Yeah, well, he loved the job more. I dated a girl from Hackberry in high school, and after. Sweet, quiet. She dreamed of becoming a nutritionist of all things, and I’d always planned to follow in my father’s footsteps. Work for the NOPD, work for S.O.D. It was in the plans, and then it all went to hell.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to beg him for information, but this was his story, his pace. He hadn’t rushed her when she’d opened up about her father, and it seemed unfair to cut into his now.

He stopped behind the chair across from hers, hands gripping the back. “He died up on the I-10, with the Superdome in sight, doing his job. Helping some lady with her car, even though he’d already gotten off the clock.” Lashes fluttering down, his nostrils flared. “There wasn’t any chance to revive him, not even to tell him the news. The plan was to visit him at work that Monday, when he’d be out patrolling, and I’d be able to sneak away for lunch during the academy.”

Weakly, she asked, “What was the news?”

“I’d proposed to my girlfriend that very evening back home in Hackberry. I’d planned it all out; September was her favorite month.”

September, the month he’d chosen for the calendar. Something told her he hadn’t done so because of his ex, though, but rather in honor of his father’s passing. She hadn’t thought it possible for her heart to crack any more, but here he was, proving her wrong. “What did your mom say about your proposal?”

His expression turned pained. “She celebrated. Wine, toasts, the whole shebang. I went to Michelle’s apartment for the night, but something . . . I couldn’t sleep, so I went home early the next morning. Four a.m., maybe, and I found her there in the living room. Gunshot to the chest, blood everywhere. No cell phones back then, but my dad’s sergeant had called Mom’s house phone with the news.”

“Gage.” His name broke on her tongue, and he hardened before her, jaw locking, temple pulsing. “Gage, I—”

“I know,” he grunted, then shut his eyes. “I sat there, you know, not understanding what had pushed her to take her life. No one had called me, and my mom was dead, and I didn’t even know why.”

She couldn’t take it—she shot off the chair and stepped in front of him. She’d been right that he’d ruin her, but he’d been wrong about the pity.

Lizzie didn’t pity him.

Her heart ached for what he’d gone through, and his dread about visiting his hometown made sense now. Would she want to go back to a place with very few good memories? She could barely visit Danny at his house somedays, so strong were the images that had once been her life.

“Let me hug you,” she said.

He chuckled, and the sound sent a fissure of worry through her. “Don’t you want to hear the rest?”

The urge to vomit was real. “There’s more?”

“You might have noticed, princess, that I’m not engaged.”

“Well, yeah, but I figured that breakup came later, much later. Not . . .”

“What’s that saying again? When it rains, it pours?” His smile was not kind. “My engagement lasted a total of fifteen hours, give or take. Michelle heard the news about my dad, then about my mom, and she wasted no time in coming to my house, returning the ring I’d bought, and skipping out.”

It was shitty, no doubt about it, but . . . “You were, what, twenty at the time? Gage, y’all were kids still. I’m not surprised that she left you.”

“Would you have left?”

His sharp question caught her off guard, and she stumbled over her words when she spoke. “I-I, maybe back then. Probably not.”

“Probably not.” Jamming his hands on his hips, he snorted. “That’s what I figured. Truth is, I didn’t expect a different answer from you, from any woman. And that’s why I didn’t want this to go any further. I might be suspended—”

“Suspended?” she echoed. Oh no, his text. She reached for him, only to be shaken off.

“I let my head get all messed up.” With you, seemed to be his unspoken words.

“Don’t blame this on me, Gage Harvey. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You said that you loved me.”

Her heart cracked, and she dropped her gaze. “I did say that. I’d say it again now, if I thought it’d make a difference.”

“It might,” he answered roughly, “but not forever. Forever is my mother killing herself because she lost my father. Forever is my girlfriend of six years deciding that I wasn’t worth the headache of everyday life with a police officer. I don’t blame them for it, not anymore. But I don’t want that for you, Lizzie.”

No, her heart whispered, no, no, no.

“Don’t martyr yourself just because you think you know what’s best for me,” she told him. “It’s not noble. It’s stupid.”

His lips moved up in a sad smile. “Owen tells me that all the time. You’d probably be better off if you’d asked him to do your challenge.”

“I don’t want Owen,” she snapped, fighting back tears, “I want you.”

“I’m off the market, princess. It was good while it lasted, and trust me when I say you opened my eyes to a lot of shit about myself I’d rather not deal with, but the fact remains: one day you’re going to realize that you’ve been livin’ your life beside the radio, waiting for the moment you hear that I’m the one who’s not coming home. I’m saving you the hassle.”

The . . . hassle?

“You’re a self-sabotager, Gage.”

“I told you, princess,” he said, mouth curling in the smallest of smiles, “that’s not a word.”

A scream launched in her throat, but didn’t escape. It hummed over her tongue and vibrated in her throat, and Lizzie turned for the door before she did something stupid, like punch Gage Harvey in his stupid, handsome face.

His voice stopped her just before her hand landed on the doorknob.

“I know you said that you love me, but sometimes . . . sometimes love isn’t meant to last forever.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “If you loved me, would it last forever?”

Adam’s apple dodging down with a hard swallow, he gave a short nod and an even shorter response. “Yes.”

“Then why would my love for you be any different?”

If he answered, the door slamming shut behind her captured the words. It was just as well. It wasn’t like he could say anything more to shatter her heart, anyway.