“I had things I needed to do.”

How could this one day change so drastically from how it started? The possibilities were endless. The soundtrack was remarkable. I just want to go back to the park. Back to my bench and my coffee. To the music and serenity.

“What? What did you need to do, Gracyn? We had just”—Gavin rubs a hand down his face, the bristles of his scruff rasping across the palm of his hand—“discussed the possibility of trying to keep up with each other. To see where things would go. And you took off. You fucking disappeared, leaving me with nothing. I tried to find you. I tried, but you sure as shit didn’t leave me with much to go on, Gracyn.”

“I needed to finish college. I needed to get my degree and take the CPA exam. I needed to do those responsible things, so I could get this job. Pay my bills, be an adult,” I bite out in full defensive mode, blood thumping, tears burning the backs of my eyes. Cheeks flaming red. My heart breaking all over again. The only way I know to get myself under control is to get mad. Let the anger take over.

“What the fuck?” Gavin pulls the band from his hair, letting it fall loosely down around his shoulders. He pulls at the elastic, stretching it between his hands before he pops it in place around his wrist.

It’s like I have no restraint as I watch my fingers lightly trace the purple hair band. “Is this … this isn’t the one I gave you in Destin, is it?”

It can’t be.

When the car lurches to a stop, my fingers make contact with his wrist, and a jolt of electricity shoots through me. It’s still there. The fire. My base reaction to Gavin.

I pull my hand back, putting space between us but barely breathing. I have got to pull my shit together.

“Are you done? With the ride?” The Uber guy is trying to politely kick us out of his car and get away. I don’t blame him one bit.

“Yeah, um, thanks.” I push open the door and grab my bag, spilling out onto the sidewalk. “Maybe you can just take him wherever he needs to go,” I call over my shoulder as I try to get away as well.

Gavin raises his eyebrows at me, eyes wide open, and snorts. “I’m exactly where I need to be,” he grunts as he pushes out of the car after me.

The car takes off as soon as we’re clear of it, tires screeching and horn blaring. I stare at Gavin, taking in the changes. Taking in everything of him that’s exactly as I remember. He shifts his weight and settles his arms across the top of his guitar case. It’s the same case from the beach.

The same arms but with ink peeking out near his wrist.

The same eyes staring into me, undressing my soul. Searching for the answers to questions we’ve barely touched on.

The same man but so much more.

“Do you live here?” He looks up and down the street, like he’s trying to picture my life now.

“No. I’m just staying in my dad’s—I mean, the company apartment while I’m working for Mr. Langston.” I cross my arms and square my shoulders—the complete opposite of Gavin’s relaxed, unaffected stance. “What do you want, Gavin? Do you want me to thank you for coming to my rescue? You sure as hell didn’t need to do that. I had it covered.”

He does that slow-nod thing that tells me he’s thinking. Picking his words.

“I know you had it covered. I know that now, but I can’t stand by and let some asshole treat a woman—any woman—like he was treating you. I had no idea it was you, not until he—”

“Brooks,” I fill in for him, not sure why I need to give Gavin his name.

“Not until Brooks shifted to the side.” Gavin finishes that thought, letting a lazy smile stretch across his face, lifting his eyes to meet mine. “It’s good to see you, Gracyn.” He takes his time looking at me, taking me in from head to toe.

“Yeah.” The wind whips up the avenue, chilling me to the bone. “I should get going.” I nod like that’s the end of the discussion and turn to cross the sidewalk and drop down the stairs to the bottom-floor apartment. Tucking my chin down into the folds of my scarf, I stutter away, ready to be done with today.

Above the bustle of the street, Gavin sighs out, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” stopping me in my tracks. When I turn to face him, he’s fixated on my neck, the scarf wrapped around my throat. “It was you at the park this morning.” He crosses the sidewalk, stopping at the top of the steps. “And yesterday? Were you there, on a bench by Strawberry Fields?”

He strides down the narrow stairway until he’s standing on the step above me. Reaching out, he slides the silk of my scarf through his fingers, pausing when he reaches the side of my throat. His lingering touch sends shivers down my spine.

“You were there. You sat behind me while I played, singing with me.” His voice is soft and faraway, but he’s looking at me. Different from the head to toe he just gave me. This time, it’s like he’s seeing me, into me. “I tried to follow you this morning. I had to see who was there with me. I fucking felt you—you—but couldn’t believe I would ever be that lucky. That it could really happen.”

I’m stunned. My private concert with my morning musician is Gavin. Lis teased me about it just this morning, saying that I needed to go look and see if the voice that sang to my soul belonged to the one who had gotten away. If she only knew. I shiver again as his palm slides to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair.

“Hand me your keys, Gracyn.” His words echo in my head, taking me back to the night it all changed.

Sliding the key ring from my palm, Gavin unlocks the door and follows me into the apartment. He props his guitar case against the wall, and I realize how little I’ve said since stepping out onto the sidewalk. How tongue-tied I’ve been.

Heaving out a breath, I back deeper into the apartment. “Gavin, I need you to go. I have to work in the morning. I’m going to have to deal with Mr. Langston and what happened with Brooks tonight, and—”

“What did happen with that asshat? Are you dating him?” Gavin follows me into the living room, taking one long stride for each of mine, and in the course of three steps, he has gained enough ground that we are almost chest-to-chest.

I place my palm flat between his pecs to stop him. With his heart thumping beneath my fingers, I recognize my mistake almost immediately. Our current, the electric pull between us, is not lessened by a T-shirt and a jacket. It’s still there. The desire is right there as well, causing me to close my eyes and try to steady myself.

“We’re not dating. I … I haven’t really done that in a while.” Whispered words hang uncomfortably between us. “Mr. Langston took us to dinner to celebrate a new working relationship, and—”

“And someone thought that meant he could treat you like a piece of property.”