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“No. Don’t apologize.” One big palm stroked the length of my spine, up and down, slow and tender. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I swear you’re safe.”

I wanted to explain further, tell him it wasn’t he who had spooked me—but I couldn’t put the irrational feeling into words. I couldn’t spin my bone-deep trauma into anything that made sense.

And I think he already knew.

He’d figured it out.

Reed pressed his cheek to the top of my head, exhaling a long, shuddery breath. I shivered, inching as close to him as I could get and listening to his heartbeats flicker through the Screaming Trees T-shirt. He felt so safe. Like the last thing in the world that would ever bring me harm.

We stood together beneath the veranda lights and half-moon, my arms dangling at my sides because I was too afraid to hold him back. Too afraid that my hands would never loosen their grip once they curled around his waist or pressed along the hard planks of his chest. I would never want to let him go.

But I had to.

Reed would never be mine to keep.

When I stepped back, I looked up at him, tipping my chin as tears bloomed in my eyes. “Keep the game,” I said, pressing it to his chest until he finally took it. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

He swallowed hard, staring at me, lips parting like he wanted to say something.

I didn’t give him the chance to.

I walked away, pushed through the patio door, and stole a final glance at him before heading toward the staircase.

He was holding the game in both hands, head down, eyes closed.

Looking just as torn up as I was.

CHAPTER 11

I glared at the guy with a pimple scar smackdab in the middle of his forehead as I parked my truck in the driveway, hopped out, then shut the door behind me.

The kid was tall and willowy, void of muscle mass and charm, and he was leering at Halley like he wanted to devour her.

She glanced my way as I approached, and I tried to hide my exhaustion.

I’d just finished up a series of grueling back-to-back sessions, wondering if it was time to hire on another coach. My client tonight had been a single mother, recovering from an abusive relationship she’d barely managed to escape from. She’d had her young daughter with her, reminding me of Tara at that age. Swinging brown pigtails and a gummy smile. The woman had been frail, terrified, and alone, desperate to find her strength again—to be a better, healthier role model for her little girl. Part of me wanted to offer my services to every victim, every beaten-down survivor, at no cost. But I had to make a living, too. I was only one person doing his damnedest to make a difference.

Blowing out a breath, I paused to let the tension roll off me before pushing forward.

When I stepped over to Halley, I greeted her with a quick nod before eyeing the teenager who appeared desperate.

She swung her gaze back to Pimple Guy.

“We could go somewhere,” he said. “There’s a spot at the bluffs where my friends go sometimes.”

She stiffened, her hand curled around Ladybug’s leash. I moved in closer and took the leash from her grip as her cheeks pinkened in the fading daylight.

When I sent her a soft smile, she let go.

Halley fidgeted, twisting back to Pimple Guy. “No. Sorry, I have plans tonight.”

“Eh, you should cancel. You ditched me at the dance.” He rolled back on the heels of his sneakers with a shrug. “You kinda owe me, Foster.”

My hackles rose as I pretended to mind my business, letting Ladybug sniff a patch of freshly mowed grass. The late-April breeze was borderline chilly, but my blood was rising to boiling.

Halley cleared her throat. “I was sick. I couldn’t help it.”

“My buddy told me you didn’t even want to go.”

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