Gabe’s house sat shrouded in darkness as Viktor drove up the winding drive. Small spotlights formed a trail along the edge of the garden beds and looming eucalypts cast eerie shadows.

“Good to know he’s increased his security presence,” Viktor quipped.

I frowned. Being paranoid was Viktor’s job, but in this case he was right. Anyone could get to Gabe here if they wanted to. Given all the unwanted media attention Gabe was currently experiencing, it wouldn’t take much for a crazy fan to locate him.

Or his girlfriend.

If that’s what I still was. Well, it was time to find out.

I got out of the car and strode up the steps.

“Let me.” Viktor slipped in front of me and tried the door. His frown deepened when he found it unlocked.

Inside, the foyer was dark but I could just make out the sound of a guitar.

“Downstairs in his studio.”

Viktor nodded and I followed him to the level beneath the house. The only light on down here was the studio itself. I hesitated.

I could hear the guitar better now. The tune was gentle, yet sad. Dark. The way he was feeling? I glanced at Viktor.

“I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

Viktor’s footsteps faded away and I still didn’t move. I finally knew what it was about hearing Gabe play. It felt like I was hearing him. Who he really was.

Was this who I had fallen in love with?

I waited until he finished playing the haunting melody and then took a deep breath and walked to the studio door. I knocked three times.

Through the window I saw Gabe still. “Come in.”

He didn’t ask who it was, but he couldn’t have seen me either. It was too dark out here.

My sweaty palm slipped on the handle, but I managed to open the door and stepped into the brightly lit room.

Not looking at me, Gabe set his guitar down. He didn’t appear shocked or even surprised. Had Damon told him I was coming?

He swiveled the stool he was sitting on to face me and I caught my breath. Not because it was the first time I had seen him since the party, but because it didn’t look like him. He’d let a beard grow and his brown hair was lank, not wavy as it usually was. It was his eyes that struck me the most. It was as if a raging storm had passed through and all that was left was a desolate gray.

He waited for me to speak. Alarm spiked my pulse up another notch. Gabe was completely still. That relentless energy that was always there was nowhere to be seen.

All the words I’d planned in my head got stuck in my throat. What did I say? What could I say? I couldn’t—shouldn’t—ask him if he was alright, because he quite obviously wasn’t.

He was still waiting and I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.

“We should talk.” Nice, Chloe, real nice. State the obvious.

“You don’t have to.”

I swallowed back irritation. “I sent you messages.”

“I know. You didn’t have to.”

The irritation bloomed into anger. “Is that what you think? I was messaging you because I should?”

Gabe didn’t move, didn’t even blink. “Why else?”

“Why else?” I took a step toward him. “Because, oh, I don’t know, you’re my boyfriend.”

A sharp flicker of pain flared in his eyes, and he looked down at the floor. “No, Chloe. I’m not your boyfriend anymore.”

I took another step. “Why?”

“Why?” His eyes met mine in surprise—the first real emotion I’d seen since I’d come in.

“Yes. Why are we no longer boyfriend and girlfriend? Please explain it to me because I’d like to know.”

Gabe’s lip curled like he’d tasted something bitter. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“No.”

“Good. Why, Gabe?”

Slowly, very slowly, Gabe eased himself up off the stool. It was probably the first time I’d seen him move that way. Everything about him was usually quick and efficient. Now it was like he’d aged half a century in a few weeks.

Turning his back to me he crouched down and started turning off equipment and removing leads.

“Gabriel da Silva! Answer me!” I hadn’t meant to use my big-sister voice on him, but I hated being ignored.

“It’s Gabriel Sloane.” His reply was so quiet I almost missed it.

“Yes, let’s talk about that, shall we?” Wow, now I was sounding like my mother and I didn’t like it at all, but couldn’t help myself. “Gabriel Sloane. Nice to meet you. Would you mind looking at me when I’m talking to you?”

Gabe eased up again and I thought I saw his lips twitch. Oh well, finding me funny was better than ignoring me.

He crossed his arms and looked at me, waiting for me to speak again.

“Gabe, I don’t remember breaking up, do you?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I figured it was kind of obvious.”

“Obvious? Um, no. Not to me. Why would you think that?”

He closed his eyes like he was in need of patience. Despite the state of him—Damon was right, he did smell—he was still Gabe, my Gabe. Whoever that was.

Without thinking about what I was doing I closed the distance between us and laid my hand on his cheek. His eyes flew open and he caught my wrist in his hand.

“What are you doing?” His face looked ready to cave in with emotion, but he swallowed and maintained his composure.

“What am I doing? I miss my boyfriend.”

“Dammit, Chloe!” He pushed my hand away and stepped back. “Stop saying that!”

“Why?”

“Why? Why?” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Because I’m not your boyfriend, OK? That guy doesn’t even exist. He never existed!”

“Bullshit!” I was yelling now. “That’s complete bullshit and you know it, Gabriel da Silva.” At his look of disgust, I shoved his shoulder. “Or Sloane, or whoever you are. I don’t care! OK? I don’t care! I miss you and the only way we’re going to sort this out is if you treat me like I’m your girlfriend and we talk through this.”

He dropped his hands to his side. “There’s nothing to talk through. There’s no way back from this. I lied to you, to everyone. I’m not who you thought I was.”

“Oh, really? So when you made love to me that was all an act, too?”

Those two lines appeared between his eyebrows, the ones I always wanted to reach over and smooth. “No, of course not.”

“Or when you made me come in the restaurant? That wasn’t you either?”

“Stop it,” he whispered.

“Or the sweet guy who thought I’d want to sing a song at my twenty-first birthday party that I used to sing with my dad. That wasn’t you either?”

“Stop it! Just stop it, OK?”

“No, I will not, because the guy I fell in love with asked me never to give up on him.”

Gabe put his head in his hands, burying his fingers in his hair. “That was before. Before I . . . ” He closed his eyes again.

“Before you gave up on me.”

“What? No!”

“Well, it sure as hell looks like it from where I’m standing.”

He put his hands on his waist and looked out the window of the studio like he was searching for something. “Chloe, you’re better off without me. Trust me. Frankly I can’t even believe you’re here after what’s been written about me in the media.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Gabe’s gaze locked onto mine. “What?”

“I said I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been following the news.”

“But then . . . ”

“Then I don’t know anything about this Gabriel Sloane guy. Nothing.”

That seemed to floor him. “Why?”

“You’re seriously asking me why I don’t read the papers? Have you read what’s been written about me lately? Apparently I’m the evil spawn of Satan sent down to break up one of the most famous rock bands in the world and the majority of your fans want me to burn in hell. I stopped reading after that.”

Gabe’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “So you don’t know who I was before?”

“Nope. That’s why I wanted to talk. I was kind of hoping you might be able to help me out with that.”

Gabe eased himself onto the stool again and sat staring at the floor for a long moment. “I’m not sure I can do that,” he said eventually.

“Any reason?” I replied lightly.

He released a tight breath. “Because I don’t like to talk about it.”

Sympathy swelled in my chest for the boy Gabe had once been. Whatever he had done pained him so much he didn’t want to talk about it. Perhaps he couldn’t talk about it. But he’d have to if we wanted to resolve this. “Gabe, I appreciate that, but I love you. That includes all of you, and I have a right to know who that part of you is—or was.”

“But I’ll lose you.” His eyes glittered with tears.

I wanted to rush to him then, throw myself into his arms and never let go. Instead, I smoothed my palms against my jeans. I’ll lose you meant that he still held some hope for us. I held the same hope, but I needed to know who he was, who he really was, before I decided.

“You won’t know if you don’t tell me.”

Gabe squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them they appeared clearer. He got up from the stool and grabbed a pen and paper lying by one of the guitars. He scrawled something on it, then ripped the strip of paper off and handed it to me.

“You need to speak to my foster mom. In person, if you can. I’ll let her know you’re coming. If you still want to talk to me after that, I’ll be waiting.”

I looked at the paper in my hand. Dina Thompson. There was an address in Minneapolis and a phone number.

I slipped the piece of paper into my pocket and stepped forward, taking Gabe’s face in my hands. The beard tickled my fingers and I ignored the stale scent of him that suggested he hadn’t showered in days. Somewhere in there was the Gabe I knew.

I pressed my lips to his and I felt him relax into me, like I was all that was keeping him standing up. His hands dropped to my waist and hovered around my hips, like he was scared to touch me.

When I stepped back his eyes flickered open as if he’d been having a really good dream.

“I’ll be in touch,” I promised him. “I’m looking forward to hearing those new songs.”