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I padded off the deck with my heart in my throat and my pulse in my ears, praying I was strong enough to protect them from harm.

Love alone wasn’t always enough to keep us safe.

Sometimes, it was our ultimate undoing.

It was nearly eleven p.m. when I found myself standing outside of Reed’s apartment door, after waiting for someone to exit the main entrance. With a grateful smile, I’d slipped inside and then headed toward apartment number seventeen. I’d been here once before with Tara, on an evening in mid-June. I had lingered outside the doorway as Tara ran in to grab her purse that she’d forgotten, following a weekend spent with him while Whitney was out of town for work.

Now, I stared at the block of wood and number plaque, my stomach in knots.

I knocked three times.

And I waited.

Heavy footfalls approached from the other side of the door, and I inhaled a breath of courage. But that breath fell back out in a mousy squeak when Reed opened the door, sans a shirt, wearing only a pair of heather-gray sweatpants and a stunned expression.

On instinct, my gaze panned downward, taking in the definition of his sculpted abs, hard chest, and muscles glistening with the telltale evidence of sweat.

Blinking, I glanced back up.

We stared at each other for a beat.

“Hey.” The confusion on his face didn’t wane, so I cleared my throat, wringing my hands together in front of me. “Can I come in?”

“What are you doing here?”

Reed pressed against the door frame, his hair a disheveled, beautiful mess that mimicked the feelings sweeping through me as I dallied in the hallway.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” I told him.

“Does Whit know you’re here?”

I shook my head. “She went to bed.”

“Tara?”

“No. She’s at a bonfire.”

He stared at me for another heartbeat, his focus sweeping up the length of my body before he nodded once and stepped aside. “Come in.”

I trudged inside the apartment, my shoulder brushing his bare arm as I pulled my mop of tangled hair over one shoulder. Fiddling with the split ends, I glanced around the tidied space, taking in the neutral canvas of blacks and grays. Tara was right—it needed some color pops.

When the door clicked shut, I pivoted around, watching as Reed leaned against the frame and crossed his arms. My eyes dipped to his chest again and heat bloomed in my belly, then shot south. I lingered on a jagged scar roped along the side of his abdomen, one I’d never seen before. Curiosity poked at me, and I wanted to ask him how he’d gotten it.

But he straightened back up before I could speak. “Sorry. Wasn’t expecting company.”

A combination of scents wafted under my nose as Reed sauntered into the adjoining room and snatched his T-shirt off a blue mat that was laid out near the kitchen—cedar from a dwindling candle flame on the coffee table, a savory aroma from a pot on the stove, and a trace of something synthetic. Almost rubbery.

“Are you hungry?” he wondered, pulling the wrinkled white shirt over his head as he reapproached. “I made soup.”

“I’m okay. Thanks.”

He nodded as he skimmed long fingers through his extra messy hair. “Halley?—”

“I want to train with you,” I blurted out.

Whatever he was about to say was cut short. Reed stopped a few feet away from me, his arm falling back down in slow motion at his side.

I lifted my chin, a surge of determination chasing away the nerves. “I never, ever want to feel helpless like that again,” I continued. “I want you to teach me everything you know. Don’t hold back. Turn me into someone powerful, brave, confident.” Stepping forward, I watched the way his brows creased and his eyes glittered back at me with indecision. “Someone who can turn fear into strength. Vulnerability into survival.”

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