The music pumping was a louder, sultrier version of what had been playing earlier, and it was enough to make me wish I had a vat of ice water to swim in.

My skin still felt overheated. Overheated and about two sizes too small. I didn’t know how to handle feeling like this, and I didn’t like it much either. Granted, it didn’t help that Jacen had looked completely horrified the moment I’d said my name.

Part of me wished I hadn’t said a damn thing, because right up until I’d given him my name, he’d been looking at me like…

My heart pitched then rolled, and I had to shut all that down because it hurt a bit more than I could handle. The way he’d looked at me made me think of all the ways he’d looked at me back before I’d gone and gotten stupid and made myself into a different person. I’d been young and foolish when I’d first started using drugs—young and stupid, not much more than a kid—

and Jacen had already gone off and gotten involved in a life that’d had nothing to do with Kaleb and me.

I didn’t even know if he knew much about what I’d gotten involved in.

I hoped he didn’t.

Just then, he’d looked at me like I’d still been that silly, strong-headed teenager who’d been determined to protect him from a cheating girlfriend, all because I’d loved him more than she had.

Or, at least, I’d thought I had at the time.

But what had a foolish, silly teenaged girl known about love anyway?

Nothing.

Lights began to pulse, echoing the rhythm of my heart, and despite myself, I looked at the stage.

When he came striding out, his feet striking the stage in rhythm with the music, my heart hitched then slammed.

Seeing him again had hit me harder than I’d imagined. That rich, dark hair and tanned skin. That face and body that turned even more heads here than back home.

I’d only come here because I hadn’t known where else to turn. None of the people I’d once known here in Vegas could be counted on. They’d either think I was looking to turn tricks again, or that I was looking to score. I didn’t want either, but I wasn’t foolish enough to put my will to the test by walking into the lion’s den, so to speak. I didn’t know why I’d reached out to Jacen, but when I’d told him why I was there earlier, he’d immediately agreed to help, giving me an all-access ticket and even some money that I hadn’t asked for and hadn’t wanted to take.

I’d used ten to buy a meal and tucked the rest into my wallet, thinking I’d use it to help Daytin once I found her.

Now, I was hard-pressed not to use it to buy a drink.

Or I had been.

As my gaze landed on him, long-legged and lean-hipped, his dark eyes sought me out, and I found myself so light-headed, I knew alcohol was the absolute last thing I needed.

His lips curved up the slightest, as though he’d just needed to make sure I was there. That I was real.

Then, he began to move.

My entire body threatened to either melt away into the seat beneath me or burst into flames.

Gripping the sides of it beneath me, I swallowed hard and told myself to breathe.

* * *

I’m normally the opening act, the closing act…and well, in every other major act of the show, but I can pull some strings, dodge out early. I know this is important to you.

After Jacen had told me that, he’d asked me to head to the staff entrance for him when the show was down to the last twenty minutes, then wait for him there.

So, that’s where I was.

It was relatively quiet here, so I sort of wished I had been a few minutes late.

If I had been, I wouldn’t have heard my phone ringing.

It was Kaleb, and I had to fight not to pull the phone from my pocket and answer. As much as he pissed me off sometimes, and as much as I wanted space, I loved him. As it was, it was nearly impossible to stand there, eyes closed and my hands fisted behind me at the small of my back as the phone rang a second, a third, a fourth, then finally a fifth time before going silent.

Once it was done, I tugged the phone out and read the text message I knew he’d send just as it came in.

It’s me. I’m worried about you. Where are you, and why aren’t you talking to me? You haven’t been home in a couple of days, and I already know you haven’t been to work. Something is going on, and I’m sort of tired of worrying, so please just call me or text me and let me know.

It would’ve been easier if he’d just started outright with the accusations. Calling me a liar. Asking if I was using again.

But he didn’t.

Sliding the phone back into my pocket, I blew out a slow, careful breath. I’d talk to him. Soon. I’d explain. Soon.

But first, I needed to have something concrete I could tell him.