Sunlight streamed through blinds, highlighting the random dust motes floating through the air like dandelion fuzz. Band posters littered the walls, signed photographs squeezed into the spaces between them. I saw and didn’t see them, my mind awash in memories that’d been stirred up like the silty bottom of a lake.

My hands gripped the worn end of a broom, but it wasn’t the rough wood I felt between my fingers but the cool strings of a ukulele. A different swath of sunlight caressed my face while fresh, green grass tickled my thighs. I strummed out a silly rhythm, the air alive with dancing music and carefree laughter. Gavin’s head lay across my lap, equally silly words narrating my tune.

It was an afternoon of nothings—nothing special, nothing planned, nothing else in the world I wanted to be doing. And yet it was perfect. A splash of pure joy in an ocean full of darkness.

The sound of the front door swinging open ripped me back to the present. My hand dropped subconsciously to my side, fingers playing over the rippled skin beneath it. It served as a reminder, a cold, harsh dose of reality that sent a chill skating up my spine. “We’re closed.”

“Good thing I’m not a customer then.”

My lips fought a losing battle with an oncoming smile as I realized who my early bird was. I managed to tamp it down a bit by biting the corner of my mouth. “Day drinking?”

“No.” The seriousness in his voice had me turning around. It was rare for him to shed his smile. Or it was rare. I didn’t really know anything about this new Gavin other than there was a tiny part of him that wasn’t done with me yet.

He sauntered over to the nearest table and leaned against it. “I wanted to see you. Wanted to talk.”

Talk. So he was here for answers. Answers that I couldn’t give him. I went back to sweeping, keeping my attention on where the bristles scraped the floor. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

His hand wrapped around the broom, stilling it. With his other hand he gently nudged the bottom of my chin so that I was looking straight at him. “I’m only going to ask you once, just this one time, because if I don’t I’ll spend the next fifty years regretting it.”

I swallowed, trying to relish this moment since in the next sixty seconds it would be gone. The feeling of him touching me would disappear. “Ask.”

His green eyes searched mine, such a unique shade that I’d never been quite able to capture it with pastels, pencils, or paint. “What happened that night?”

I held his gaze. “I can’t tell you.”

His teeth sunk into his lower lip. “Why? If it’s because you don’t want to hurt me—”

“It’s not that.” My feet propelled me backward. I needed space—to breathe, to think, to remember why this was such a bad idea. “Gavin, the truth is dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” His hand landed on his hip. “Don’t tell me, you’re a CIA agent. Or wait, maybe an undercover cop. I mean the way you took down that guy last night was pretty badass.”

My knuckles whitened around the handle of the broom. “This isn’t a game.”

“Shit. You’re serious?” The smile slunk from his face. “Dani, listen, I can—”

“No.” I kept retreating until there was an entire bar separating us. “Just stay out of it, Gavin. This is a bad idea. You shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.”

It was one thing to risk myself, to stare danger straight in the face just for a few more minutes with Gavin. It wasn’t something I was willing to do when it involved his safety. And if he was going to go digging . . . no. It was over.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He held his hands out, palms up. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. I’m letting it go. This is me letting it go.” He pulled out a stool and sat down on it. “I promise.”

I hesitated, again. Each step closer I took to letting Gavin back in my life felt like a game of Russian roulette. Sooner or later it was going to go badly for me. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if it was him that got hurt from all this.

“Dani.” His hand captured mine and he twined our fingers together. And that was what won the battle for me—a touch. It’d been so long since anyone had touched me like that, with such gentleness, such care that it almost broke my heart. It wasn’t till that moment that I realized how much I’d been longing for someone to do just that. “I won’t ask again, I swear.”

I disentangled our fingers. I craved the closeness but feared it just the same. “I don’t want to lie to you, but there are things I can’t tell you.”

“So tell me something true.”

I turned to sort through the myriad bottles behind me, straightening them so their labels were face out. Really I was just buying myself some time. Trying to figure out what tiny threads of truth I could pull out of a tapestry of lies. I flipped a glass over on the bar and filled it halfway with bourbon. “I saw you in Chicago.”

His eyebrows lifted. “When we played there?”

I nodded. “Couldn’t afford anything other than the nosebleeds, but I was there.”

“Next time I can get you something better. Front row, backstage passes, the real experience.”

I forced myself to smile, but I already knew that would never happen. Not in this lifetime.

“So.” He spun the glass around in tiny circles. “How long are you going to be here in our lovely city? A few weeks? A month?”

I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

“Right.” His fingers tugged through his hair. “You can’t tell me.”

A heavy breath escaped me. “What is it that you really want, Gav?”

He tilted his head and just looked at me for a long minute. “Do you remember what it used to be like between us?”

I helped myself to a sip of his bourbon. “Like I could ever forget.” When I glanced back at him, his gaze was trained on my mouth and the look in them was pure molten heat.

“That’s what I want.”

It felt like the world had turned completely upside down. Working here, I’d hoped to see him again, just once would’ve been enough. But this, this wasn’t even something I’d let myself contemplate even in the furthest reaches of my fantasies.

I was barely breathing when I said, “I need you to be very specific right now with what you mean.”

He leaned further across the bar, his arms folded beneath him. “I’m thinking dinners. Maybe a lunch here and there. But mainly I’m thinking hot—” His tongue darted out over his lower lip. “—mind-blowing sex.”

My pulse kicked up until I was sure he could see it throbbing in the base of my throat. I tried to swallow, but my throat was completely dry. “I can’t make you any promises.”

“Well I can make you one.” He straightened and a bit of the heat left his eyes. “I can promise you that I’m never going to love you again.”

I tried not to flinch at the tone of his voice, tried not to let his words completely destroy me. They were smart words, viciously wise. Words I needed to keep close to my heart and constantly remind myself of.

“Well, then it seems I can promise you one thing.” I got down another glass and poured myself a matching drink. “I can promise you this will never be anything more for me than a good time.”

I held up my glass.

He clinked his against mine. “Cheers to that.”