Keegan

The early morning sun is lighting up my room when I open my eyes.

The fire has died, but the smoldering smell reaches me. It’s comforting, somehow.

Deep, regular breaths touch my shoulder. A leg is thrown over mine, and a pair of strong arms have me wrapped in a warm embrace.

I am tangled up in Blue.

I want to imprint on my memory the wonderfully heavy feel of his body coiled around mine. I want to spend the day right here.

But I’ve got an 8 a.m. meeting with Virginia Cooke.

I stretch my hand to the nightstand to check the time on my phone. It’s 7:35; I’ve got just enough time to clean up a little before I walk into the lion’s den.

I’d half-heartedly tried to talk to my grandmother about Megz when we first got here Wednesday night.

She gave me a sharp, assessing look when I said my friend’s name and suggested it was a conversation better left until after Thanksgiving Day.

I didn’t have the nerve to argue.

Then she said she could see me at 8 sharp Friday morning, penciling me into one of the leather-bound planners she’s used forever.

I slip out of Blue’s embrace, careful not to wake him.

He looks so peaceful in his sleep, so untroubled. That’s not always the case.

I sigh as I head for the shower.

A few minutes later, my wet hair slicked back and wearing yoga pants and a wrinkled hoodie, I head downstairs.

The light under her office door tells me Virginia is already there.

I knock, and as I enter at her summons, I wonder what it’s like to have a more normal grandma: a pillowy soft one who fills the house with the smell of baking cookies and makes you feel like you’re the center of the universe.

I can tell by the slight curl of her lip as I slouch into the office that my grandmother does not approve of my attire.

Even at home, even on a holiday, Virginia Cooke is dressed immaculately, her only concession to informality being a pair of tailored wool slacks and what could almost be described as comfortable shoes.

Uncharacteristically, she doesn’t mention how I look.

She does, of course, let out a resigned sigh to signal her displeasure as I slip into one of the elaborately carved chairs in front of her desk.

Even more surprisingly, Virginia doesn’t bring up Blue. I’d expected her to start yelling about me dating—and, as she quickly figured out, living with—Bill Daniels’ son.

Yesterday, I thought I was going to have to lunge across the Thanksgiving table to keep her from tearing Blue’s eyes out.

But now, she’s just sitting there wearily, waiting for me to go on.

“So...um...Megz has a problem.”

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “See, well, she was arrested.”

My grandmother’s lips compress into a tight line, and her gaze hardens to stone as I tell her the whole story, ending with Megz’s request for help getting the charges dropped.

Virginia doesn’t say anything for several moments, just lets her eyes stab into me, her veiny hands clasped together on the desk.

She’s wearing her grandmother’s wedding ring on her right hand, where she moved it the day her divorce was finalized.

As far as I know, she never takes it off.

The rose-cut diamond flashes as her fingers tense.

“Keegan,” she finally sighs with a disparaging shake of her head, glancing out the window toward the river that meanders past the ranch’s main house.

I can feel the lecture that’s coming, and already, I’m pissed and defensive.

“Meghan has always used you. Always been able to manipulate you.”

“You know what, just forget it,” I snarl, throwing up my hands just as Virginia’s Siamese cat jumps into my lap.

One of my hands knocks into the side of his head.

“Oh, sorry, Boots,” I murmur, holding the cat as he lets out a couple of cranky meows.

I hadn’t even noticed Boots before. He must have been curled up in the chair in the corner.

He gives me an arch look that’s remarkably like the one his owner is directing at me as I take a deep breath.

Virginia and I start speaking at the same time.

“I really don’t need—”

“You should grow up and see things—”

We both fall silent. Now it’s my grandmother’s turn to inhale a calming breath.

“I’m not going to save Meghan from the consequences of her own actions,” she says firmly. “I’m sorry if that upsets you.”

I lick my dry lips and then start speaking slowly, trying to keep my words measured.

“She’ll lose her scholarship. She...you know what her life has been like.”

Virginia gives me a disgusted look.

“Keegan. Stop making excuses for her. She earned a full scholarship to OU. She did that on her own. She had a bright future in front of her.”

Boots jumps off my lap and disappears behind the desk.

“And then she threw it all away.”

“She made a mistake,” I plead, hating the whine in my voice. “Like we all have. But unlike us, Megz can’t just buy her way out of her mistakes. Or have someone powerful pull strings to get her out of it. People like us always get second chances. Why shouldn’t she?”

We’re glaring at each other.

“Megz is my friend,” I go on. “You could easily make the charges go away. You could easily help if you wanted to.”

The weariness in Virginia’s eyes is gone, replaced by a spark of anger.

“Yes,” she says evenly. “Most likely I could. But I won’t.”

I roll my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

“And for the record, Keegan,” she continues, “if it was you in this situation, I wouldn’t save you from the consequences of your actions either.”

I flounce out of the room, barely resisting the urge to slam the door like a petulant teenager.

Blue is building a fire when I walk back into my bedroom.

He’s wearing only a pair of sweatpants, and the sight of his muscular, scarred back sends a flood of conflicting emotions through me: the lust I always feel at the sight of him; pain, at the thought of all he has gone through; and fear of what the guilt that I sometimes see etched on his face might do to him.

What it might do to us.

“Hey.”

He smiles as he straightens and slides the poker into the brass bin next to the fireplace.

“You disappeared on me.”

I swallow the lump in my throat.

“I wanted you to sleep. I had a meeting with my grandmother.”

A quizzical look crosses his face. “A meeting?”

I nod, wondering why I didn’t tell Blue about the whole Megz thing earlier.

“Aw,” I say, turning toward the bed, glad for the distraction, “you even made the bed. What a good boyfriend you are.”

I raise a seductive eyebrow at him as I flip back the covers and crawl in.

“How about we mess it up again?”

I don’t have to ask twice. Blue is across the room in a second and sliding in next to me.

He threads his fingers through mine and raises my arms above my head. Then he kisses me: long and slow and delicious.

“Maybe we should be a little quieter than we were last night,” he quips. “I’m kinda surprised your grandma didn’t send Buick and some of the ranch hands up here to drag me out to the barn for some country justice.”

We laugh together for a minute and then fall silent. Blue drags a finger over my lips and down my neck.

I feel his erection against my hip.

But then he pulls back and studies my face. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod, brushing his mouth with mine before pulling myself into a sitting position. I can’t put off telling him any longer.

“I need to talk to you.”

The way his face freezes in dread has me rushing to explain.

“No. It’s nothing like that. It’s about Megz.”

For the second time this morning, I spell out the whole shoplifting story, adding a little rant about my grandmother’s refusal to help.

Unlike Virginia, though, Blue doesn’t start lecturing me.

Instead, he stares at the ceiling for a few moments without saying anything.

“Did not see that coming,” he finally mutters, playing with a strand of my still-damp hair.

“You mean Megz shoplifting or Virginia refusing to help?”

“Megz. I’m not at all surprised Madame Ball Breaker wouldn’t bail her out.”

He grins as he sits up next to me. The old wooden headboard groans under our combined weight.

“Sorry. That’s what my dad used to call her. He meant it as an insult. But I don’t. She’s a tough old bird. She’s gotten to the top in an old boys’ club. I admire that, even if she does hate my guts.”

He sighs and runs his fingers through my hair.

“And the thing is,” he adds, “I think she’s right on this, Keegan. She shouldn’t make the charges go away. And Megz shouldn’t have asked you to fix it for her.”

My phone buzzes from the nightstand while I’m still processing Blue’s response. I stretch my hand out to check it.

A text from Megz.

Well??????????

“Shit,” I say, showing the phone to Blue. “I don’t know what to tell her.”

“Tell her the truth. She’s going to have to live with the consequences.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I type out a response.

She said no. I’m sorry. I’m still at the ranch, but let’s talk on Sunday ok? We’ll figure something out. It’ll be ok.

I add several kissy face emojis. Then I erase them.

Then I let my thumbs hover over the lines for several seconds, but before finally pressing Send.

Megz doesn’t respond.

Blue and I sit there in silence a while, holding hands and staring at the crackling fire.

After a few moments, I hear voices out in the hallway.

“Probably Buick and Kendra,” I scoff, pushing Blue down on his back and curling into his body, my head on his chest.

“He was planning to take her on a drive around the ranch this morning. I can’t get my head around it. My brother and Kendra? They have absolutely nothing in common.”

Blue’s chest vibrates with laughter.

“Yeah. That’s another thing I did not see coming,” he says. “But hey, to each his own.”

He tilts my chin up and grins at me.

“Told you not to bring her.”

He shuts off my protest by kissing me.

That quickly leads to more kissing and before I know it, Blue is tugging my hoodie and yoga pants off, and I’m helping him shuck his sweatpants.

I straddle him, enjoying the way his face goes slack with desire.

He’s focused entirely on me as I slide on to him, both of us gasping at the same moment.

And then I take it slow, rocking back and forth, smiling as Blue’s mouth forms an O and he says my name like I’ve just performed a miracle.

I could listen to him say it like that forever.

“Pretty sure this is my favorite position,” I coo.

We go on like that for a few more moments, until Blue suddenly flips me over on my back and drives into me as I shriek, not even caring who hears us.

“This position is very nice, too, you have to admit,” he whispers, grinning wickedly.

Later, sated, he tightens his arms around me, inhaling the scent of my hair.

“I’m starving,” he says. “How about we raid the kitchen for leftovers?”

I raise up on an elbow, suddenly seized by a desire to share something with Blue that I’ve always kept private.

“Do you know how to ride?” I ask.

“You mean, a horse?” he responds, surprised at my abrupt change of topic. “Yeah, I took lessons in middle school. My dad seemed to think it was necessary.”

“Will you come riding with me after we eat?” I continue, getting out of bed and reaching for my hoodie. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Blue

If looks could kill, I would have died right there at Virginia Cooke’s Thanksgiving table. I thought my old man was good at freezing people out.

But he had nothing on Keegan’s grandma. It felt like the blood in my veins turned to ice the moment she realized who I was.

“You’re Bill Daniels’ son?” she snarled. “Bill Daniels of Bootstrap Enterprises?”

I’d just shoved a forkful of turkey and stuffing into my mouth, and I almost choked as she glared at me like I was a rodent scurrying across the floor.

When I managed to nod in response to her question, I half-expected her to throw me out right then and there. I think Keegan did, too.

Keegan’s face turned red, and she glared at her grandmother so ferociously I almost laughed. I’ve never seen her that angry.

The irony is that the two are almost mirror images of each other. They have the same features, the same coloring; even some of their mannerisms are the same.

Truth is, Keegan looks like a softer, younger version of Virginia Cooke. Much softer and much younger. But still. The resemblance is remarkable.

I plan to keep that observation to myself, though. Keegan would probably kill me if I said that to her.

I’m sneaking up to her room from the downstairs guest room, trying to find spots where the old wooden stairs don’t creak loud enough to wake the dead.

I didn’t have the guts to just brazenly share a room with her at the ranch. Not with her grandmother, father, and brother all staring after us when we said good night a couple of hours ago.

Oklahoma’s most powerful politician would really shit bricks if she knew my complicated sexual history with both Keegan and Kendra. Buick might not be too pleased either. So here I am, sneaking around like a horny teenager.

A cranky meow startles me, and I have to grab the railing to keep from tumbling over. It’s Virginia’s standoffish Siamese. The cat’s eerie blue eyes flash at me as he rushes through my legs and down the hall.

Virginia’s room is the closest to the top of the stairs. It would be my luck to wake her while I’m trying to slip into her granddaughter’s bed. The woman’s probably got a hit man on speed dial.

If I was smart, I’d be running for my life right now. But I’m not smart; I’m in love. And not even Virginia Cooke is going to chase me away.

Max—no doubt smelling the cat—starts barking from Keegan’s room, and I scramble the rest of the way to her door. “Max!” I hiss as I ease the door closed. “Be qu—” The words die on my lips.

Because all my mind—and my suddenly raging cock—can focus on is the gloriously naked girl sitting on the canopy bed in front of me, the flames from the room’s fireplace throwing flickering shadows on her skin. She’s smiling; she’s obviously been waiting for me.

She shakes her hair, and it cascades over her shoulder, over one breast. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Every once in a while, I seem to step out of myself, like those near-death experiences you hear about where somebody’s spirit rises out of their body and lingers, watching what’s going on.

Not to get too mystical, but that’s how it feels: like some other Blue steps out of my body and stands there looking at the other me, the one who is standing here gawking at Keegan.

And that other, shimmery Blue—the one without a hard-on, the one with a functioning brain—thinks: You will remember this moment for the rest of your life.

The same thing—except that it was one of the worst moments of my life instead of one of the best—happened to me back in Aziza’s village, when I felt the muzzle of the AK-47 pressing into my side.

In the hours that followed, it sometimes felt like I was outside my body, watching what was happening to it.

My back burns as the two moments—past and present—become intertwined. Not that I notice my back much at first. I’ve turned into a walking, throbbing penis.

But after I whip off my shirt and lift Keegan into my arms, she puts her hands on my back, and I can’t help crying out.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s okay.” I kiss her. “You didn’t.” I carry her over to the fireplace, dropping down on my knees and laying her gently on the plush white carpet.

Ignoring my sizzling scars, I pull off my jeans and underwear, kicking them aside.

My mouth finds Keegan’s breast, sliding to the nipple, where I let my tongue linger as she arches her back and moans. I move to the other breast, nuzzling the side nearest the fire.

The skin’s warmer there, kind of smoky tasting.

She moans again and says my name, and I close my eyes, biting my lip so hard I taste blood. Better blood than the tears threatening to spill all over her body.

Just the sound of my name coming from her lips is enough to make me want to cry.

Fucking hell. Act like a man.

“Keegan.” I fall on top of her, kissing her mouth, chin, neck, stomach, running my hands and my face through her hair, dragging my lips down, all the way down, until my breath exhales against her thighs.

My tongue searches for the spot I’ve learned sends shudders throughout her body. And after a few minutes of working my magic, a bolt of electricity seems to lift her off the floor.

I fucking love being able to do that to her.

After a few more delicious moments, I stretch out above her. We’re both panting as I stare into Keegan’s eyes. They glow, reflecting the fire next to us. They’re soft, happy, full of life. So different from her grandma’s cold, dead gaze.

“Keegan.” I’m not even fully aware of forming words; they just seem to suddenly be there between us. “I never want this to end. I never want us to end.”

She melts her lips against mine.

“I love you,” I add, clenching her hands in mine and rolling on to my back, pulling her on top of me and closing my eyes as her hair tickles my cheeks. “Keegan.” There’s a tremor in my voice.

She kisses me and gives me that beautiful, soft smile.

“I never want this feeling between us to end,” I go on as she kisses me again.

“I love you, too, Blue,” she whispers. Her smile deepens she slides her body down mine.

Until, suddenly, I’m inside her, where it’s so unbelievably warm and tight and all-encompassing.

God, it’s the best feeling in the world.

I want to be far inside Keegan, so far that I stop being me, at least the me that ever has to be apart from her.

Several times in the last month, I’ve lain awake, wishing I’d never told her my deep, dark secret. I hated myself for being so weak that I needed to unburden myself to her, even if she insisted she wanted to hear it.

But other times, like right now, it feels so good to know she loves me, just as I am. To have nothing unsaid and unknown between us.

I don’t want to be the phony with a burning back. I don’t want to be Blue the failed hero.

Blue the lying coward. I want to start over. And when I’m with Keegan, when I’m inside and a part of her, I believe I can do that. I believe I can do anything. I believe I can put the past behind me.

“Keegan.” I can’t seem to stop talking.

She shushes me by lifting her head and, at the same time, grinding into me, and I make some kind of cartoonish wolf howling sound.

I think I do anyway. Or maybe I just hear it in my head.

We move together then, a slow sensual rhythm that Keegan is completely in charge of. I watch her—eyes closed, lips parted, hair falling across her face, almost oblivious to my presence—this girl who only a few months ago had been so uncertain and inexperienced.

Now she is using me as a very willing sex toy.

Keegan’s eyelids flutter, and she’s gasping, running her hands through her hair, down her neck, over her own breasts as flame shadows dance across them. She says my name, over and over.

I can’t hold off any longer; I stop thinking clearly. I know I call out Keegan’s name more than once. It’s blinding, white-hot bliss. And it’s loud.

But in that moment, neither of us cares.

Keegan

I study Blue’s profile as he drives: strong jaw, straight nose, thick black eyelashes. And that talented mouth; just looking at it leaves me throbbing.

He slows the Coupe to exit the highway. The entrance to the Cooke Ranch is about five miles ahead down a winding county road.

Blue turns down the Swiftie playlist I put together last night. I’d been determined not to listen to Frasier Bryson on the trip to my grandmother’s place.

“Sorry to interrupt this estrogen infusion,” Blue drawls. “But I just want to ask you one more time, are you sure—”

“Yes, Blue,” I interrupt, turning the music back up, “I am absolutely certain it’s okay with my grandmother that you come for Thanksgiving. She’s totally fine with it.”

Okay, that’s a lie. She is so not fine with it. But I told her I wouldn’t come if she didn’t allow me to bring Blue.

And Kendra. Yeah, Kendra’s in the backseat. She’s currently dozing, her head leaning against Max. Of course we had to bring him, too.

All my relationships seem to be changing. My friendship with Megz has soured. We haven’t talked or texted since she hung up on me. I’m so pissed at her. I can’t believe she got herself into this situation. I still plan to ask my grandmother to help her, but I have no idea how that will go.

Virginia and I butt heads over everything. Even though lately, it does seem she’s trying to make things better between us, it’s hard for me to trust her. She’s pulled so much manipulative shit over the years.

My relationship with Blue is good. Really good. But we haven’t talked about the Afghanistan thing—his secret—at all. I can’t quite figure out how to bring it up. I think about it a lot though. I’ve filled pages of my journal trying to work out my thoughts—and fears—over what he told me.

Sometimes I catch him looking at me with the strangest expression on his face. Like he’s drowning, and I’m standing a few feet away, doing nothing to help him. It makes me shiver to see it, but I haven’t said anything to him about that either. I guess I don’t want to dig any deeper; I want to enjoy how things are with us right now.

And then there’s my relationship with Kendra. She shocked me the day after the Halloween party when she apologized for what happened on the deck.

“I’m not as big a bitch as everyone thinks,” she mumbled. “I know it’s not your fault Blue wants you instead of me.”

I just stood there with my mouth open.

“He never told me anything about what happened to him,” she added, bitterly. “He never let me in at all.”

Kendra and I aren’t exactly friends now. But we’re not sworn enemies either. At least I don’t think we are. When I found out Kendra had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, I invited her to the ranch.

Blue was not happy. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he sputtered, throwing his arms up and stepping back, then tripping over Max.

“Dammit, Max, watch where you’re going!”

The dog and I gave Blue our sternest you’ve-got-to-be-kidding looks. But he ignored our silent rebuke.

We’re spending two nights at the ranch. Then we’re going to drop Kendra off before going to Tulsa for a delayed Thanksgiving with Blue’s mom. I’d suggested we invite her to the ranch as well, even though I hadn’t cleared that with Virginia. But I hadn’t even finished my sentence before Blue started shaking his head.

“She’s going on some trip with this widows group she belongs to,” he said, his face tightening like it always does when he talks about his mother. “They go away for Thanksgiving every year.”

Secretly, I was relieved Blue’s mom already had plans. I want her to have a good first impression of me. And I have no idea how much drama might be served up at my grandmother’s table this year. It feels like a big step that Blue and I are meeting each other’s families. I’m nervous about it.

My phone buzzes; it’s a text from Megz. Sorry KeeKee. I know I’m the world’s biggest bitch. And a fool. I wanted those girls to accept me so much I just lost my mind. None of them know I’m a foster kid.

The three dots on the phone tell me she’s typing more.

I sigh and shake my head, staring out the car window at the gentle hills and pastureland we’re driving through. Everything we can see belongs to my grandmother.

In the distance, I spot one of the herds of wild horses the government pays her to keep on the ranch.

When I was about 12 and crazy about horses, I used to dream about somehow getting close enough to make friends with one of them. I’d picture myself racing across the plains at breakneck speed on my beautiful, spirited mare. But those horses were meant to stay wild.

My phone dings again: Thanks so much for asking your grandma to help me. I owe you one. I won’t forget it babe!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I decide not to answer right away. It feels like Megz is using me; I don’t know what to think.

“You okay?” Blue is glancing back and forth between the road and me.

I haven’t told him about Megz yet.

He runs a finger down my cheek, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingertips brush one of the beautiful diamond earrings he gave me for my birthday.

I’d tried to insist they were way too expensive, and I couldn’t accept them, but he insisted. And who am I kidding? I love them.

I’ve just opened my mouth to respond to Blue’s question when Kendra makes a vomiting sound from the back seat. “You know,” she says, sitting up straighter and stretching her arms over her head, “I’m trying to be better about this.”

She does a little circle with her finger to include me and Blue. “But do you two have to be so all puke-inducing right in front of me?”

Max gives a short bark as if he agrees with Kendra, and she hugs him.

Blue rolls his eyes and shoots an I-told-you-so side-eye at me.

“You getting enough heat back there?” I ask Kendra, holding my hand in front of the vents and ignoring her comment. The temperature dropped overnight; a light snow has been falling all morning.

“Yeah,” Kendra responds, snuggling into Max. “I’m fine. I just...holy shit.” She’s staring open-mouthed at the massive gate looming before us.

I’ve seen the ranch entrance so many times, it doesn’t even register. But I have to admit it’s pretty impressive. Huge logs make up all three sides, and they are set in stone bases.

A large, wrought-iron sign—Cooke Ranch—hangs from the top. The Cooke brand is carved into each log, along with 1893, the date the ranch was established.

Blue pulls through the gate and follows the road as it climbs a ridge and then curves around a hill. It has stopped snowing. The sun’s just broken through the clouds, and the river that winds through Rosewood Valley sparkles in the sunlight. Even in the winter, with the grass a dull brown and the trees stripped of leaves, it’s a beautiful sight.

On the banks of the river, the main house twinkles with the Christmas decorations Virginia always has the ranch hands put up in early November. In this weather, all the fireplaces will be blazing, and the inside will be as beautifully decorated as the outside.

Despite my conflicted feelings about its owner, I love the ranch as much as my brother does. As much as my mother did. It’s the only place I’ve ever really thought of as home.

“Your family owns this?” Kendra whistles. “Jesus.” She unbuckles her seat belt and leans her forearms on the front seats. “Must be nice.” She sounds a bit like Megz: jealous, resentful.

I guess I take it all for granted. I don’t feel privileged, but I guess I am.

“Hey,” Blue asks as we near the house, “what about your grandfather? I never hear you mention him.”

“I’ve never met him,” I respond. “He left Virginia before I was ever born, when my mom was just a little kid. The ranch belonged to her family, not his.” I stare at the series of barns behind the main house, thinking about how Buick and I used to play there for hours.

“He went back to New York. Told Virginia he’d only married her for her money, and it wasn’t worth it to him anymore.”

“Ouch,” Kendra murmurs.

There’s a lot more to the story, but it can wait until another time.

I point toward one of the barns, which has an open garage door. “Pull in there. The heat’ll be on, and you can leave the car there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Blue drawls. Suddenly he’s talking like Cowboy Blue; it’s cute. He shuts off the car inside the barn, and I’m slipping my socked feet back into my boots when Kendra grips my shoulder.

“Who is that?” she hisses.

I turn to look at her, surprised, then direct my gaze out the front windshield. My brother Buick is standing in the back of a pickup on the other side of the barn, pulling down bales of hay from a stack that rises to the ceiling. He’s shirtless and seriously bulked up since the last time I saw him.

He pauses to wipe sweat off his face. Virginia always wants the heat up too high, even in the barn.

“That’s my brother.”

Kendra pivots so she can see herself in the rear-view mirror, running a finger under her eyes and smoothing her hair into place.

“Why didn’t you tell me you have a brother who looks like that?” she barks. “Did I ever tell you I’ve always had a thing for cowboys?”

Blue snorts as I open the door.

I’ve heard girls go on about Buick for years. But I didn’t expect Kendra to be one of them. “He’s a lot younger than you,” I tell her as we all step out of the car.

“So?”

“And he...well, he has a lot of issues.” I feel bad telling her that. Kind of.

Her withering glare makes me flush with shame. But I don’t want her messing with my brother.

“Who doesn’t?” she snaps.

Buick jumps from the truck bed to the ground. He’s grinning at me, and I look down at the hay-covered floor, suddenly unable to meet my brother’s gaze. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately.

About how I treated him when he got into trouble. How cold I was to him when our mother died. He’s made a lot of mistakes, and he’s been through a lot. And I wasn’t there for him.

I can be a selfish, judgmental jerk sometimes.

I rush toward Buick and throw my arms around him. When he squeezes me back, I feel a rush of relief and regret and love for my little brother.

“Hey, sis.”

I can barely respond. “Hey.” And then the tears come. We stand there, my forehead tucked into his chest. Finally, I pull back and look up at him. “How are you?”

He smiles. “I’m okay. Better than I’ve been in a while.”

I wipe my eyes, clearing them in time to see Kendra doing this strange little sashay across the barn floor toward us. Toward Buick. What the hell?

I introduce them, and Buick puts his hand out to shake hers. It’s painfully obvious Kendra would like to jump my brother’s bones. I’m embarrassed for her. Good grief.

What is she thinking?

I take a step back toward Blue, and he curls an arm around me. “I should have listened to you about bringing Kendra,” I whisper. “Look at the way she is acting around my brother.”

“Pretty sure he can take care of himself,” Blue responds, his teeth nipping my ear and his hand wandering down to squeeze my ass. “Let’s talk about how you are going to take care of me. Or vice versa. I can’t wait ’til bedtime.”

I’m blushing. And smiling. “Me either.” I’m waiting for Kendra to finish prattling on to Buick so I can introduce him to Blue. But then I hear footsteps.

Virginia strides into the barn, wrapped in a Pendleton blanket, that disapproving look on her face.

“Oh shit, here we go,” I mutter.

Blue squeezes me against him. “Steady.”

Three weeks later...

Keegan

I hear my Megz ringtone—Calm Your Tits by The Offsailors—just as I hit Submit on my story. Stretching across the table in the newsroom to grab my phone, I send up a quick prayer that Megz isn’t in one of her prickly moods. I’m feeling good, and I don’t feel like tangling with her.

After the Sorenson debacle, I’ve been eager for another front-page opportunity. And last week, I got it. Jason assigned me a story involving possible wrongdoing in the Ikana Admissions office.

It’s evolved into a series of stories that will require a lot of digging, a lot of lead-following. It’s exactly what I wanted. And I don’t think my grandmother could in any way be involved.

There’s been a weird silence between me and Megz since Halloween. No calls. Only a couple of texts. I’ve picked up the phone a few times to check on her, see if she’s ready to tell me whatever it was she was holding back.

It’s been bugging me, though I can’t pin down exactly why. But something feels off.

Each time, though, I’ve put the phone back down. I guess I feel like the ball is in her court, and she’ll tell me when she’s ready. Maybe she’s ready now.

“Hey!” I say, pressing the phone to my ear, “I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Yeah, right back at ya, bitch.” It’s one of Megz’s standard lines and normally a sign she’s in a playful mood. But this time, there’s a flat, sour edge to her voice.

“You okay?” I ask. “What’s up?” I put my feet up on the table, glad the newsroom is deserted so we can speak freely.

Most of Ikana’s students left town last weekend. I guess I’m the only one crazy enough to still be working two days before Thanksgiving.

Megz still hasn’t said anything.

“Megz?” More silence. This is not like her. “Okay, now you’re kinda scaring me,” I say, only half in jest.

“Keekee.” Her voice wobbles.

What the hell?

“I need your help.” In all the time we’ve spent together, Megz has never once asked for my help. Not that I can remember, anyway. I pull my feet off the desk and sit up straight, clutching the phone tighter.

“Megz, of course. What’s going on?”

For a few long moments, all I hear is the soft sound of her crying. “Megz?” My mouth feels dry, and my heart is thudding. “Did someone hurt you? Tell me. I’ll help you.”

She lets out a harsh laugh. “No one hurt me.” After another long pause, she sighs heavily. “I fucked up, Keekee. Big time.”

What on earth is she talking about? I hear her take a deep breath.

“I got arrested,” she says on the exhale. “For shoplifting. At Nordstrom’s. Like, for a lot of stuff. I kept going back into the store and bringing more shit out, and I kept it all in the car I was borrowing. They caught me with all of it.”

My mouth opens and closes a couple of times, but no sound comes out.

“So fucking stupid,” she adds.

I’m stunned. This is so totally not what I was expecting.“What are you talking about?”

I finally manage to say. “Why on earth would you be shoplifting?”

Another harsh laugh. “Why on earth?” Megz scoffs, suddenly sounding furious. “What do you mean, why on earth, Keekee? Why do you think I would do it?”

I’m stunned into silence again.

“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t need to do it. You wouldn’t have any clue what it’s like to be somebody who has to do that. You’ve never had a clue.”

I drag my hand down my face in frustration.

“I told you all the shit I needed for AChiO,” Megz goes on, a whine creeping into her voice. “I told you how expensive it is.”

For a moment, I can’t even make my mouth form words. But then I tear into her. “And your only option was to steal to stay in some stupid sorority?” I slap the table in front of me, then shove my chair away from it. “Give me a fucking break!”

Megz is silent; I can hear her breathing over the phone.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” I go on. “I could have found at least some of the money you needed. Somehow.”

“Because I didn’t want to ask you for help, Kee,” she snaps. “I didn’t want to have to beg from you or anybody. I know all your money comes from Granny Dearest. I didn’t want to put you in that position.”

I make a disgusted sound.

“I didn’t think I needed to,” she adds, defiantly. “Cause I was good at it. The shoplifting. I’ve been doing it for months, getting all kinds of great shit.”

I can’t believe I’m hearing this; I can’t believe the note of triumph in her voice. “Well, gee, you weren’t that good at it, though, were you?” I snarl. “Since you got caught.”

I hear her sharp intake of breath as a door slams in the background of the dorm or wherever she is.

“Jesus, Megz,” I go on, blinking back sudden tears. “I could have helped you somehow. There had to be an answer that didn’t involve you turning into a goddamn criminal.”

For a second, I regret saying that; but only for a second. “What the hell makes being in a sorority worth all this, huh?” I’m frustrated by her silence. “Seriously. What is the big deal?”

She still doesn’t respond.

I look at my watch; I told Blue I’d be back at the house by now. We’re going on a run together.

Things have been so good between me and Blue for the last three weeks. We’ve gotten so close that when I’m not with him, it almost feels like I can’t breathe.

Like I’m only half alive.

Right now, I desperately wish he was here with me.

“So why did you say you need my help,” I ask, “since you’ve got it all figured out?” I guess I’m deliberately trying to provoke her, get her to speak up.

Megz probably won’t go to jail, not if it’s the first time she’s been arrested. But she’ll still have a criminal record unless the charges are dropped.

She’s going to need a lawyer, and that could end up costing her thousands of dollars. I know that, even if she doesn’t yet.

Like she said: So fucking stupid. As mad as I am at her, though, I want to help if I can. We’re friends. But there’s only one place I could get that kind of money.

“It’s not just about the money, Kee,” she finally says, her voice more tearful and less defiant now. “I can probably borrow that from...various people.”

I don’t even want to know who she means.

“I need your grandmother’s help, her...influence.”

What the hell is she talking about?

“I tried to get them to drop the charges,” Megz goes on, the self-pity in her voice grating on my nerves. “But they won’t. I’m probably going to be convicted.”

She sniffs a couple of times, and I hear someone on her end yelling something about beer pong.

“Even if I pay all the fines and stuff,” she adds, her voice lowered, “it’ll be reported to the group that pays my scholarship.”

Oh shit. Now I know what she’s asking for.

“It’s in the contract I signed, Keegan,” she cries. “They’re very strict about it. Any criminal conviction means I lose my scholarship. The whole thing.”

“Megz—”

“Your grandma is the only person I know of who could make the charges go away.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I don’t know if I meant to say that out loud. But seriously, what the fuck? The last thing I want to do is try to get Virginia to bail out the girl she’s always insisted was nothing but trouble.

“Megz,” I groan, “I have no idea if she will agree to do it. Hell, Virginia might make sure they send you to jail and throw away the key.” Another pause. I can feel her frustration.

“She’ll do it if you ask her,” she says evenly after another moment of silence, “if you make it clear how important it is to you. I know she will. You told me yourself she seems to be trying to repair your relationship.”

I wish now I hadn’t told Megz that. It’s true, Virginia has invited me and, surprisingly, my dad, for Thanksgiving. My brother went to work for her at the ranch after I left for college. So he’ll be there, too. Virginia even went along, after putting up a fuss, with my insistence that I wouldn’t come unless I could bring Blue.

She might just be trying once again to stir up family drama. But I really want to see my brother. Things have been strained between us for a long time. And I’ve missed the ranch a lot more than I thought I would.

“You’re going to see her tomorrow, right?” Megz prompts, breaking into my thoughts. “You’re spending Thanksgiving there?”

I let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, I’ll see her tomorrow.”

I stand and push the chair under the table, picking up my backpack and shutting off the lights. I need to get back to the house. “Look, Megz, I will ask her. I will do my best to get her to do it.”

“Thank you, Keekee.”

“And if she says no,” I go on, firmly, “we’ll find some other way. If you lose your scholarship, it won’t be the end of the world. We’ll—”

“It will be the end of my world!” she suddenly screams into the phone, stunning me. “How can you not see that? It will be the end of my whole fucking life!”

And she hangs up.

Keegan

Megz is out on the roof. I nudge my bedroom door open further with my foot, then walk in slowly so I don’t spill the two cups of coffee I’m carrying.

“Hey there,” I call out, “I’ve got coffee.”

She turns at my words and stretches her arm through the open window to take one of the cups.

“You read my mind, KeeKee. God, do I need coffee.” Her voice is hoarse, and her face, squinting into the rising sun, looks a little tense.

My face probably looks the same. I’m already wondering if I should have stayed in Blue’s room and forced him to keep talking to me.

At the very least, maybe I should have insisted on giving him a big, comforting hug. Why didn’t I refuse to leave his side?

He asked me to leave, so I left. Now I regret it. But I don’t have the guts to go back to his room right now. Instead, I just want to talk to my best friend.

I’m not going to tell her Blue’s secret. As much as I would like to unburden myself, I understand I can’t tell Megz or anyone else.

If I did, and the story got out, Blue could get into serious trouble. I know that. But I also know just talking to Megz will make me feel better; it always has.

I crouch and step through the window, grateful for the warm air on my skin. Oklahoma weather is always topsy-turvy. One day, you’re in the middle of a blizzard; the next, you’re reaching for a pair of shorts.

I sit beside Megz on the roof and take a sip of my coffee, staring at her tie-dyed pajama bottoms. I have a matching set that are around here somewhere; we bought them together sophomore year.

“Sorry about last night,” I say, curling my free arm around shoulders. “I didn’t mean to abandon you.”

She’s staring into the rust-colored leaves of the oak tree, seemingly preoccupied. For a moment, I’m not sure she heard me. Then she smiles and clutches my hand in hers.

“No worries, bestie,” she says, slanting her eyes at me. “Hunter and I hung out for a little while, got to know each other.”

“Did you—?” I ask, shooting up my eyebrows.

Megz laughs and shakes her head, taking another sip. “We just made out. We didn’t even get close to, you know, actual fucking.”

Her lips hover over the steaming coffee for a second. Her tone is light, but her expression is something different.

“I just wasn’t into it,” she adds with a shrug. “Had other things on my mind.” She nudges me and makes a face. “And since you were off boffing the rock star, I decided to get a good night’s sleep in your bed.”

I give her a faint smile. I’ll just let her think I was having sex with Blue all night.

It’s too complicated to explain about Jason and the profile and Kendra’s bullshit. Not to mention Blue’s gut-wrenching story. My head is still spinning over all of it.

Megz lets out a long sigh and gives me a sidelong glance; it feels like she wants to say something else.

“Everything okay?” I prompt.

She doesn’t respond, just stares into the tree again.

After a few moments, I change the subject, pointing at the compact red car that’s parked in front of the house.

“Hey, is that yours?” I’ve never seen it before; far as I know, Megz has never had a car.

It’s one of the things that really bugged her in high school. It bugged her even more when everyone else headed off to college in some kind of vehicle.

As long as I’ve known her, Megz has always had some kind of job. But the money she earned ended up having to go to other things. Like rent, after she was able to live on her own when she turned 17.

She used to borrow my car a lot. She even got into a minor accident with it once, and Virginia hit the roof over that, even though it was none of her business. No one asked her to pay for the repairs.

My grandmother disliked Megz from the first time she met her. She started calling her “trash” almost as soon as our friendship began. Just thinking about that now makes me squeeze my eyes closed for a second.

Nobody can make me as furious as Virginia Cooke.

“Nah, it’s not my car, Kee,” Megz answers my question as I open my eyes. “I borrowed it from a friend at school. Just to come see you.”

She brushes a strand of hair out of her mouth, and the bracelet on her wrist—it looks like a diamond bracelet—flashes in the morning sun.

I lean into her shoulder. “And that bracelet? That come from a friend, too?” I’m teasing her, mostly. But a ripple of worry twists my insides.

Guys like to give Megz stuff. They fall in love with her; they feel sorry for her.

Sometimes, at least in my opinion, she plays the victim when she shouldn’t. When we were in high school, she had a sugar daddy for a while, some older guy with plenty of money to throw around.

At first, Megz liked him. She definitely liked all the gifts he gave her. But then, when she got tired of him and tried to end it, the sugar daddy turned into a violent dirtbag.

She had to get a restraining order against him. Fortunately, that’s as far as it went. But it could have been so much worse.

Megz is glaring at me, obviously picking up on what I’m thinking about. Sometimes she accuses me of being too quick to judge her when I have no idea what her life has been like.

I suppose that’s true. Still, she should be more careful.

“This belongs to one of my sorority sisters, Keegan,” she interrupts my thoughts, twisting her wrist to show off the bracelet. “And so does the car.”

Her arch tone tells me she’s pissed. And she only calls me Keegan when she’s irritated.

Megz had been so proud of getting into the Alpha Chi Omega sorority at OU. She must’ve sent me 100 texts about it. I was truly happy for her, even if I don’t get the appeal of sororities.

“You don’t know how it is, being in Alpha Chi,” Megz goes on, stretching out her legs and lifting her face into the sun. “You have to always look a certain way. You have to wear certain things and shop at certain places, and it’s all so goddamn expensive.”

The wobble in her voice makes me put a hand on her arm.

“Megz, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be judgy. I know what a big deal AChiO is to you. I just want you to be safe.”

She throws me a bitter look I don’t understand and seems to struggle with what to say next.

“We all borrow from each other,” she goes on, finally, “all of us sorority sisters, it’s what we do.”

I’m trying to be kind, but there’s that hint of superiority in her voice again that’s maddening. I look away, trying to ignore it.

“Not that I have a fucking thing anybody wants to borrow,” Megz adds bitterly.

I know about all the foster homes she’s cycled through; about carrying everything she owned around in a trash bag; about having to adjust to yet another family over and over again.

I know about the agony of living with the knowledge your biological parents basically threw you away. And about aging out of the system because no one ever wanted to adopt you. I know about it. But I will never know how it feels. Not really.

Megz used to open up to me more than she does now. Over the last six months or so, we’ve become more guarded with each other. I don’t exactly know why.

Now, though, hearing the anger and resentment in her voice, I wish I’d tried harder to break down the wall that’s grown between us. We’re still close; she’s still my best friend.

But something doesn’t feel right.

I hook my arm around her, pull her close to me. “Megz, I—”

“Hey, there’s your little boy Blue,” she exclaims, pulling away from me and pointing toward the front yard where Blue has just jumped off the porch. He’s wearing running clothes and heading for the street.

“Hey, Blue!” she shouts, “Your girl is up here!” There’s no way he didn’t hear Megz. But he doesn’t look back.

After a moment, she turns to me. “Well, that was weird,” she huffs.

And then she takes a hard look at the expression I’m sure is on my face. So many conflicting emotions about Blue right now probably have me looking shell-shocked.

“Hmm,” Megz muses. “Is there trouble in paradise, KeeKee? Already?”

I shake my head, brushing away some kind of flying bug. “It’s complicated, Megz,” I sigh. “Like, seriously complicated.”

She laughs. “Isn’t everything?”

We talk for a while longer. I don’t tell her what Blue told me. But I change my mind and tell her about the profile and Virginia ruining things again. And about Kendra’s mind games.

“Holy fuck!” Megz bursts out. “What is that bitch’s problem?”

We spend a few minutes speculating about the extent of Kendra’s evil nature, and yeah, that makes me feel better. Then Megz slaps her thighs and announces she has to get back to OU.

We crawl into my bedroom, and she quickly gets dressed. Then we head downstairs as she pulls the car keys out of her black duffel bag.

She opens the driver door and slings the duffel into the passenger seat, then turns back to wrap me in a tight hug.

After a few seconds, she pulls back, her hands on my shoulders, and I sense her hesitation. Again, it feels like she wants to tell me something.

“Megz?” I decide to try humor. “Calm Yo Tits, Gurl.”

It seems to take forever, but finally, a grin appears on her face. “That’s my line, bitch,” she retorts, fluffing my hair, then sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Gotta go. Hope you can work things out with that hot hunka man.”

I lean into the car window as she starts to pull away. “Give me a call,” I say. “I can tell you’ve got something to say.”

She waves at me but doesn’t respond.

A few minutes later, I’m up in my room, writing in my journal, when I hear someone on the porch. The front door opens; then I hear feet pounding up the stairs.

I slap my journal shut and jump off the bed, running to crack my door in time to see Blue heading into his room. Hurt that he didn’t come to see me, I close the door and just stand there resting my forehead on it.

A couple of minutes after that, I hear the bathroom door screech open, and the shower being turned on. I stare at the wobbly door handle for a long moment.

Just leave him alone.

Disregarding my own thought, I yank the door open, striding toward the bathroom, determined to make Blue talk to me. Or make love to me. Anything but ignore me.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, and steam is rising from the shower. I step inside and quickly take off my clothes. But then I freeze, because I hear a choked, agonized sound.

Peering around the shower curtain, I see Blue, standing under the water, his face buried in his hands. He’s sobbing. I slip into the shower and wrap my arms around him as tight as I can.

Keegan

“Keegan. Wake up.” My eyes are closed, but I hear Blue’s ragged whisper. He’s holding me, just the way he was when I fell asleep last night.

His breath touches my cheek. “Keegan.”

For some reason, I don’t want to open my eyes yet. I want to stay like this, cocooned in Blue’s arms, warmed by his touch.

“Keegan, please. I have to talk to you.” His voice is urgent and shaken.

I look up into his agonized eyes and then sit up too fast, groaning at my bone-dry mouth and the headache pounding behind my eyes. I so should not have touched that tequila.

“Blue,” I croak, touching my throat, like that’s going to help, “of course.” I press my hands to his face. “Talk to me.”

He wraps his hands around my wrists and closes his eyes briefly. Then he gently pulls my arms away, squeezing my hands for a second before getting off the bed.

“Let me get you a bottle of water first,” he says, his voice speaking volumes more than the simple words coming out of his mouth.

He walks quickly out of the room, and I flop back on the bed, listening to his steps pounding down the stairs and wondering if I really want to hear what he’s got to say.

Unbelievable, Keegan. I’ve bugged him over and over to tell me and now that he’s about to, I suddenly don’t want to know.

He’s back in a few minutes with a cold water bottle, and I down about half of it, wishing again that I’d stayed away from the damn tequila. What was I thinking?

Blue starts walking in tense circles, hands cupping the back of his head. He’s wearing only the pants that he wears rappelling, the ones I’d teased him about having fashionably ripped knees.

Playing along, he’d archly informed me his pants got their holes the old-fashioned way, by clawing up cliffs and scrambling over boulders. Soldier-style.

He takes a deep breath and slowly exhales it. “I know you’re exhausted,” he says. “But if I’m going to tell you this, I have to do it now. I can’t put it off anymore. It’s making me crazy.”

I nod, shifting around uncomfortably on the bed. He’s finally going to tell me. But right now, all I can think about is how badly I need to pee.

“Sorry,” I say, awkwardly getting out of the bed, “just give me a minute.” I start to slide on the jeans that Blue must have taken off me last night, then decide not to bother. It’s unlikely anyone is in the hall to see me in just my T-shirt and panties. Everyone’s probably still asleep.

I emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later and crawl back on the bed, propping up the pillows and tucking my legs under the covers. I can feel my heart pounding.

Blue is still pacing. Max curls up next to me, and I run my hand over his head and back. Then I give Blue an encouraging nod. But the look on his face sends a prickle of dread over my skin.

“Do you want to sit down while we talk?” I ask, hating the trepidation in my voice.

He shakes his head. “I need to move around,” he says, drawing another deep breath.

After a long pause, he starts talking. “I enlisted in the Army the day after I graduated from high school. Against my old man’s wishes, like I told you.”

He smiles faintly. “And I loved it, Keegan. Every bit of it. I sailed through basic training. I loved the camaraderie and the sense of purpose it gave me. I couldn’t wait to get over there and, as cliched as it sounds, serve my country. I couldn’t wait.”

His voice trails off. He’s staring at the picture of his mother on the desk. “I wanted to spend my life in the military.”

Max, sensing Blue’s pain, raises his head and whines. I place a hand on his back to comfort him.

“So anyway,” Blue goes on, clearing his throat and nodding toward the guitar in the frayed red chair. “The names on the guitar, those guys, we were all in the same unit.”

He swallows, then pushes his fingers through his hair. “We were close, Keegan. I’d...I don’t have any siblings. I’d never had that kind of bond with anyone. Except maybe my mother.

“And what we did over there mattered. It meant something. I mean, it wasn’t all perfect. It wasn’t all good. I saw some stuff I never want to see again. But…” His face crumples. “They were good guys. They were the best.”

I toss the covers aside and start to get out of bed, wanting to comfort Blue. But he holds up a hand to stop me.

“No. Please. Just stay there. Let me get this out.” I reluctantly push my legs back under the covers. Max is whining again.

Blue cups the back of his head with his hands and resumes circling the room. “The base we were assigned to was close to this village and...it’s a long story, but there was this aid worker, a woman from Finland named Venla.”

He pauses, staring out the window through the broken blinds. The rising sun turns his blue eyes silvery, reminding me of the frosty surface of the ponds at my grandmother’s ranch during the winter.

“Venla tried to help the kids that lived nearby. And there was this Afghan girl named Aziza that Venla got to know. She had four older brothers.”

His voice dips, and he starts speaking faster. “I was assigned at one point to assist Venla, and then...Aziza’s brothers were trying to force her to marry a much older man. They threatened to kill her if she didn’t do it. And they would have done it.”

The muscle in his jaw tenses. “She was 13 years old, Keegan. A child. She ran away. She came to the base. And Venla tried to help her. She...and then I tried to help, too.”

I’m barely breathing. This story is not at all what I was expecting to hear.

Blue squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. And then, still walking in circles, he tells me the rest of the story.

When he finishes, I sit there with my mouth open. “Oh, God,” I gasp. “Oh, Blue.”

I get out of the bed and move toward him, my arms open. “I’m so sorry. That is terrible. Oh my God.” I want to envelope him in the biggest, warmest hug I can muster.

But again, he puts out a hand to stop me. “I haven’t told you all of it yet, Keegan.”

His voice, hard and distant, sets off alarm bells in my head. I sink back on the bed, alarmed by the agony etched on his face.

“Blue, it wasn’t your fault. The guys in your unit, they were killed in an attack. You couldn’t have known that would happen.”

Blue’s shaking his head, his lips curled in disgust. “You don’t understand. You just don’t understand.”

I push my hair away from my forehead, frustrated by his tone. “Then help me understand.”

He spins away from me, dragging his fingers down his face. “They were out there on that road looking for me. Trying to keep my stupid, sorry ass from getting in trouble.

They died because of me. Don’t tell me it wasn’t my fault.”

He’s wringing his hands, staring again at the photo of his mother as I watch him, trying to figure out what to say.

I still don’t entirely understand what happened over there. But I know that three American soldiers died. And Blue blames himself for it.

Several long, painful moments of silence tick by.

“And that’s not all,” he finally goes on, his face a mask of pain, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I lied about what happened, Keegan. I lied about the whole goddamn thing. And I let them tell that lie to the families of the men who died.”

The self-loathing in his voice stabs through me. My mouth falls open again. I don’t know what to say; I don’t know what to think. “I didn’t have the guts to tell anybody the truth,” he sobs.

“Blue,” I whisper.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard and lets out another breath.

“I’m telling you all this now because...because I love you,” he goes on. “Because I don’t want there to be anything between us.” He leans against the desk, his hands fisted. “And because I want you to know exactly who I am. Exactly what I am.”

I stand there in shocked silence, blinking back tears. Finally, I find my voice. “Blue, you need to see somebody. You need to talk to a professional, a therapist.”

He glares at me, shaking his head. “I can’t tell anybody about this. You can’t tell anybody about this.”

“You need help,” I go on, shocked at his response. “You shouldn’t have to carry this on your shoulders. It would be confidential. It wasn’t your fault. You—“

He slams his fists into the desk. “Stop saying that!” he shouts. “Stop saying it wasn’t my fault!”

Now I can’t hold back my tears. I swipe my fingers over my eyes to clear them and take a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

Blue squeezes his eyes shut again, like he’s trying to block out the sight of me. “I’m sorry,” he says after a moment, his voice low and hollow. “I’m so sorry.”

He’s still got his eyes closed. “Look,” he goes on, “I need to be alone right now.”

“Blue...I—“

“Please, Keegan,” he begs, opening his eyes to look at me, his face a mask of pain and regret. “I shouldn’t have told you. It was a mistake. Please, just leave me alone.”

Blue

It would be kinder to break up with her.

You’re way too clingy for me, sweetheart; I can’t handle all your drama; that’s the breaks, babe; it’s been fun, but it’s time to move on.

That’s how I should do it, bluntly and brutally. It would hurt at first, but it would be better for her in the long run.

But I don’t have the guts to do that. Especially after last night, after Keegan told me she loves me. I simply cannot walk away from this girl.

She stirs in her sleep, and I slowly shift against the pillows, careful not to wake her.

I meant to spill my guts out to her right there on the back deck last night, but she could barely keep her eyes open. Between the tequila and whatever that asshole editor

Jason had done to her, she was wiped out.

Not to mention Kendra trying to mindfuck her with total bullshit.

It just wasn’t the right time to lay on Keegan my dark, heavy secret, no matter how much she said she wanted to hear it.

As soon as I assured her Megz was safe and sound up in her bedroom, Keegan had sagged against me and let me guide her to my room. I think she was asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

I brush strands of hair off her face and stroke her satiny cheek. She looks so damn young. She sounded so young last night, so caught up in the intensity of her emotions.

Sometimes I forget Keegan is only 18. Well, almost 19. Her birthday is the day before Thanksgiving. Still. Too fucking young.

I’m six years older than her, and I feel a whole lot older than that.

How the hell can I even think of saddling her with my shameful secret? Why would any man worth his salt do that to a woman he loves?

And yet, if I don’t tell her the truth, she’s always going to be wondering why I don’t trust her. And it’s always going to be there between us, even though it has nothing to do with me not trusting her.

It’s about betrayal: my betrayal of my brothers-in-arms; my betrayal of their families.

Max puts his head on my leg and looks up at me with his big, brown eyes. I’m sure he can feel how conflicted I am.

“What a good boy,” I whisper, petting his soft head as he heaves a contented sigh. “What a good boy you are.”

I lean my head back against the headboard and squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could shut everything out. Wishing I could stop thinking, stop remembering.

My back is burning again. It’s ridiculous, the way my brain tricks me into believing the skin is once again flayed open, shredded by a whip wielded by Aziza’s oldest brother.

I know it’s not real; but I can feel every stripe. I can hear the whistle the whip made in the air in the split second before it reached me.

Max whines, and I open my eyes, looking down and running a thumb over his ears. “I don’t know what to do, buddy,” I whisper again as his ears twitch. “I just don’t.”

I’m dying to go for a run to clear my head. Running is the one thing that seems to help. Well, that and my music. But I don’t want to risk waking Keegan by easing her off my chest. She needs her sleep. I should try to get some, too.

But when I close my eyes again, I get a flash of Cunny’s bloody face. And the whole thing burns through my mind like it’s done a thousand times before.

I’d been sitting for hours, slumped against the wall in a small room in Aziza’s house when I heard an explosion. When the youngest brother—the one who’d been ordered to guard me—was distracted by the noise, my instincts took over.

I was on my feet and across the room in an instant, snatching the AK-47 out of his hands and smashing it across his face, knocking him out. I’d have shot him if I had to.

But I didn’t want the sound of gunfire to bring the other brothers running before I had time to escape.

And despite what they’d done to me, I didn’t especially want to kill any of them. As horrible as they’d been to their sister—trying to marry her off against her will—Aziza still loved them. She was that kind of person.

I slipped through the house, wearing only my fatigue pants, and made it to the back alley without encountering anyone.

Later, I realized they’d all been drawn away from the house by the sound of the Buffalo U.S. Army vehicle being blown apart.

I made it to the edge of the village, to the bike I’d thrown into a ditch. I’d ridden the short distance from the base at dusk the day before, figuring that was less conspicuous than trying to drive alone into an Afghan village.

And it was a better way not to draw attention to the fact I was off base without permission.

I’d just turned my bike toward the base when I got a clear view of the Buffalo, black bilious plumes of smoke boiling above it. I knew it was one of ours; I knew I had to try to help.

I didn’t know who was inside until I reached the vehicle and saw Cunny. He’d been in the back when the RPG hit. That was the only part of the vehicle that wasn’t incinerated.

He’d managed to call for help; his hand was still gripping the radio. I could already hear the choppers coming. I tried to keep my eyes off what was left of Monti and Hud.

Parts of that day are hazy now. I don’t remember scrambling through the flames, burning the torn skin on my back to a crisp; I don’t remember dragging Cunny out. I do remember, though, as the choppers closed in, begging him to stay alive.

And I remember begging all three of them—over and over again—to forgive me.

Because I knew they’d been out there trying to rescue me. Trying to save me from my own stupidity. And it cost them their lives.

Keegan

It’s not my dad. It’s Jason Reed.

“Hey,” I call out as he walks toward me, “you came.” I’d impulsively invited Jason to the party just before I left the newsroom on Friday, but I didn’t expect him to show up.

Things have been better between us lately. He seems to be happy with my work at the paper. And I’ve wanted to impress him, so he’ll give me better assignments. Plus, I’ve been eager to see the profile I did of Provost Sorenson on the front page.

Jason’s been saying it would be published any day now. But so far, that hasn’t happened. “You weren’t kidding about it being a big party,” he replies, taking in all the people on the porch and the booming music coming from inside. “I can’t believe you actually live here.”

He’s not wearing a costume. Instead, he’s dressed in his usual preppy style: monogrammed Oxford shirt and chinos, with an expensive-looking leather jacket and some black loafers added to the mix.

I study him, noticing the tense expression on his face, the way he’s clutching his phone.

“So...look, I can’t stay after all,” he says. “Everything is blowing up. There was a stabbing on campus a couple of hours ago and—”

“Oh no!” I interject.

“...we need to redo tomorrow’s front page.”

“No problem,” I say, turning toward the house. “Just let me get my stuff.” Campus crime is not my beat, but I assume he needs me to help get the issue redone and sent to printing as fast as possible.

The Daily has clung to its print publication even as most college papers went strictly digital. I’m proud to be part of that tradition.

Then I remember Megz. Damn. She came here to hang out with me; I feel bad leaving her. But she’ll be okay for a few hours, and we can catch up before she leaves tomorrow.

It takes me a second to realize Jason’s shaking his head.

“No, that’s okay,” he says. “We’ve got it covered.” He stares at the ground a moment before meeting my eye. “I wanted to let you know that the Sorenson profile is not going to be published after all.”

My stomach drops at his words. “What?” I hate that my voice is squeaky. “You mean not this week? Or not ever?”

“Not ever. The FAC voted against it.”

“But why?” I cringe at my high, childish tone. Seriously, though, what the fuck? Why would the faculty advisory committee pull my story?

Jason has just opened his mouth to respond when we’re interrupted by raucous whooping from the other end of the porch. Three guys are standing in the porch swing, rocking it back and forth with so much force I’m scared it will collapse and bring the overhanging roof down with it.

Just what I need. “Hey!” I yell, rushing toward them. “Get off there! Right now!”

I reach the swing and tug on one of the chains holding it up, spilling two of the assholes to the porch. The other, who has managed to hold on, has the nerve to kick at me. I grab his foot and twist it, then let go as he jumps off the swing.

“What’s your problem, bitch?” he snarls.

“I live here!” I spit back. “I don’t want to have to pay for the damage you drunk

morons cause. Now get out of here before I call the cops.”

The grumbling swingers amble off, throwing dirty looks at me as they go. I make my way back to Jason. “I’m impressed,” he says. “I had no idea you were so kick—“

“Tell me why the Sorenson piece is not going to be published,” I brusquely cut him off. Right now, all I want to talk about is the profile. I worked so hard on that thing. I was looking forward to seeing my byline for the first time on the front page.

Jason looks startled, then shifts his eyes toward the street. “Look,” he says after a second, “I fought for the piece. I really did. But the committee thought it was too big a conflict of interest.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shifts back to me, his eyes narrowing as he searches my face. “Did you know Sorenson used to work for your grandmother?”

I feel my jaw drop. “What?”

“Years ago. He was her legislative director.”

I start to say something, but he holds up his hand.

“And then,” he goes on, “when Sorenson ran for state senate, she donated to his campaign. Like, big time. She was a major donor, for twelve years. Every time he ran.”

Fuck. I thought I’d done my research. I knew the provost had once been a state senator.

But I did not know Virginia was one of his donors. I did not know he used to work for

her. And during the interview, Sorenson never mentioned it. Why the hell not?

“The FAC felt it was too big of a conflict to have Virginia Cooke’s granddaughter writing the profile, given their close ties. Doesn’t look good for a newspaper to do that. And they have the final say.”

My face is on fire. I’m pissed at the faculty committee and at Jason. And at my freaking grandmother, who manages to somehow be at the center of everything I do. But mostly, I’m mad at myself. How did I fuck this up so badly?

I went around bragging about the profile. I told everyone in the newsroom about all the research I’d done. And now I look like a complete fool. Like a total rookie.

The music coming from the house ends, and I hear Blue tell the crowd the performance is over. As usual, there’s a round of groans and angry cat calls. Like we can just ignore the noise ordinance and keep blasting music all night long.

“So, I have to get going.” Jason steps off the porch with a sigh. “Hey, Keegan, don’t worry about it. There’ll be other front-page stories.”

“Thanks for letting me know.” I try to keep my voice cool and neutral because it feels like I’m going to cry, and I sure as hell don’t want to do that. “I appreciate it.”

Jason heads for his car, and I turn toward the front door. I need to find Megz, make sure she’s all right. And as soon as the band finishes breaking down, I know Blue will come looking for me.

He’ll want my feedback on the music. He’ll want to hold me in his arms, take me to his bed. He’s always happy—and horny—after he’s been playing. I want to be there for him, too.

But first, what I really need is a few minutes alone to pull myself together. To stop feeling like my screw-up with the profile is the end of my journalistic world.

I step to the end of the porch and jump into the side yard, then head through the open back gate. There’s no moon tonight, and the single-bulb light that usually shines in the back is apparently burnt out, so it’s pretty dark.

I can see several forms still hanging out on the deck.“Assholes, go home,” I mutter, cranky. I don’t want to talk to anyone. “Party’s over.”

I spot an open space on the deck and slump down, leaning against the railing and folding my arms over my chest. The person next to me, wrapped in a hoodie and a blanket against the plummeting temperature, fills a shot glass from what looks like a bottle of tequila and raises it in my direction.

“Here’s looking at you, kid.” She downs the shot, and I peer around the hood she’s got pulled over her face because I recognize the voice. It’s Kendra. This is so not my night.

She fills the shot glass again and knocks it back.

“You okay?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m showing concern. Kendra has been awful to me ever since I moved in. But during that time, I haven’t seen her take even a sip of alcohol. She’s sure making up for it now.

She scoffs at my question, and I get a whiff of tequila breath as she moves closer and wags a finger in my face.“Why you, Keegan?” she slurs. “Huh? Why the fuck does he want you? Because you’re a little younger? Because you’re maybe a tad prettier?”

Her lips curl as she gets even closer. “But so what?” She looks around, loudly addressing the people nearby. “So. Fucking. What?” She jabs a finger at me. “She’s not more interesting than me. She has nothing in common with him. What do they even talk about? She’s nothing but a spoiled, boring brat.”

“Hey!” I raise my hands, fingers spread. “What is wrong with you?”

“Oh, honey,” Kendra guffaws, punching the air in my direction as if she can’t quite pinpoint my location. “If you only knew.”

People are giving us looks; some of them leave the deck. Shaking my head in irritation,

I reach across Kendra to grab the bottle, then take a swig. It’s probably not the wisest move. But it feels like a tequila night to me, too.

“Seriously, Kendra,” I say, coughing a little at the strong drink. “What did I ever do to you? You’ve been a total bitch to me ever since I moved in.”

She doesn’t answer, just smirks and rolls her eyes as I take another swig, feeling the tight knot of tension in my stomach relaxing.

I totally should not be doing this. But what the hell “Tell me something,” I say, setting the bottle between us and changing the subject. “Do you know what happened to Blue in Afghanistan? How he got all those scars?”

I’ve been wondering this ever since I found out Blue and Kendra had been a thing. But I haven’t had the nerve to ask her until I acquired some liquid courage.

Kendra stares hard at me, her eyes unnaturally bright, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Did he tell you?” I press, noting her smug look of satisfaction. “Did he?”

She lets me just hang there, drawing the moment out. “You mean you don’t know?” she finally replies. “He didn’t tell you?” She shakes her head in mock astonishment. “Wow.”

I consider wiping the look of pleasure off her face with the tequila bottle.

“I just assumed he would have told you all about it,” she adds, getting unsteadily to her feet as I glare up at her. “I mean, as close as the two of you are. Or appear to be, anyway.”

Two seconds. That’s all it would take to make the bottle connect with her head. Instead of attacking her, though, I take another healthy swig as Kendra leans over me.

“At some point,” she says, “he’s going to get tired of you, Keegan. You know that, right? And I’ll be here when he does. He and I are the same age. We’ve both been through heavy shit that a sheltered little princess like you has no clue about. I understand him a lot better than you ever could.”

She takes a couple of steps toward the kitchen door, then turns back. “Before long,” she adds, “he’s going to figure that out.”

I’m frozen there for several minutes after she leaves, my eyes squeezed shut, willing myself not to cry. I know she was trying to undermine my confidence in Blue, in our relationship. I know he doesn’t love Kendra.

Does he love me though? We haven’t actually said I love you yet. But we’re sure acting like we’re in love.

I pull my knees to my chest and rest my forehead on them as my head spins from the stupid tequila. I can’t stop the doubts bombarding my brain. If Blue really did tell Kendra what happened to him, maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m just a temporary good time.

“Keegan?”

I look up. Blue’s standing over me with that tender concern I like to think is only for me.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he says, squatting to draw a gentle hand across my back. “What are you doing out here?”

And I start to cry. Like a baby. Like a tequila-soaked freshman who got her feelings hurt. Like a spoiled, boring brat.

Blue drops to the deck beside me. “Hey.” He pulls me to him. “What on earth happened?”

And so I sob out the whole story: Jason and the yanked profile; Kendra and the tequila; my question about Blue and her answer.

“Jesus,” he growls. “She’s just fucking with you, babe.”He tilts my head up and kisses me, then brushes hair away from my face. “She’s a liar. I never told her a thing.”

I drag a hand across my eyes and try to sit up straighter.“Yeah, but it’s more than that, Blue,” I blubber. “It’s not really about Kendra.”

I draw in a deep breath, feeling the beginnings of a bad headache. So stupid to drink all that shit.

“It’s about us,” I go on. “It’s about how I feel about you, and where we’re going with this. And why you—“

“Why I won’t tell you what happened in Afghanistan,” he finishes the sentence for me, looking away as the muscle in his jaw jumps around. His expression is hard to read.

“I love you, Blue.” I didn’t plan to say it; it just popped out.

Maybe it’s the tequila, loosening my tongue. But now that I have said it, I’m glad it’s out there. “I don’t want just a hookup or even a casual relationship. I can’t do that. Not with you.”

“Keegan.”

I hold a hand up so he’ll let me go on. “But if you won’t share this with me, if you won’t trust me to know about something that was so traumatic for you...something that gives you nightmares...that left you scarred, inside and out...” I let the sentence fade away.

Blue swipes his eyes with his fingers and looks away from me again, and my heart clenches at the agony on his face.

But still, I go on. “If you won’t tell me about it, then how can we have the kind of relationship that I want with you?” I ask, my voice breaking. “How?”

He pulls me tight against his body, engulfing me in his arms and kissing the side of my head over and over. I feel his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. And then another.

Several moments of silence go by, and I wonder if I should just go inside. It’s not fair to pressure Blue like this. I’m overly emotional right now. I’m drunk.

I raise my head to look at him. There’s a single tear running down his face. “Blue, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...it’s the tequila talking...it’s fine…I—”

My words die out as he shushes me, kissing me deeply before enveloping me in another hug. “It’s not the tequila talking,” he murmurs. “Not really.”

For a while, he doesn’t say anything else. The only sound is the cicadas beginning their nighttime concert. I can feel Blue’s heart beating against my own.

“First of all,” he finally whispers against my hair, “I love you, too. I should have already told you that. I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. You have to know that.” He squeezes me even tighter. “And second, you’re right. You deserve to know what happened.” He pauses, then sighs heavily, “So I will tell you.”

We slump against the deck railing as Blue takes another deep breath. “But once I do,” he goes on, his voice full of dread, “you may wish you didn’t know.”

Keegan

The Halloween party is in full swing, and Megz is clearly loving it. “Damn, KeeKee!” she shouts over the music. “I so did not have you living in a rockin’ party house on my college bingo card!”

She aims a drunken kiss at the side of my face, and the scratchy brim of her witch’s hat scrapes my temple. “You’re waayy cooler than I thought,” she jokes.

I throw her an indulgent smile. Megz is always giving me shit about being so straight-laced, and sometimes it pisses me off. But right now, I’m too happy to care.

I shift my gaze back to the band, back to Blue. They’ve launched into the Rolling Stones number he was rehearsing last night. I’d curled up on his bed, clutching his scratchy Army blanket against the chill the house’s crappy heating system couldn’t overcome, and watched him play the song over and over.

He kept trying different chord combinations, explaining that he wanted it to sound a little more “ragged and emotional.”

“A little more like a Frasier Bryson song, you mean,” I quipped, teasing him.

He laughed at that. Then he went back to reworking the tune as I let his gravelly voice flow over me. Just watching his fingers stroke the guitar strings sent a surge of heat between my legs as I thought about what those skillful fingers would do to me later.

For the last month, Blue and I have spent almost all our free time together. I know his room now about as well as I know my own. I know he keeps a stash of Reece’s pieces in the top of his closet so Max can’t get to them. I know he has exactly two threadbare bath towels, at least one of which is invariably on the bathroom floor, on the verge of mildewing. I’ve been meaning to buy him a couple of new ones.

I also know he avoids looking at the framed photo of his mother that’s on his battered desk. The first time I noticed the picture—of a pretty, dark-haired woman in a white dress and denim jacket—I asked if it was his mom.

His eyes clouded over, and for an awful moment, I thought I’d somehow missed a crucial detail. “Oh God,” I gasped, “did she...was she on the plane, too?”

“No, no. She’s fine,” Blue assured me, shifting his gaze away from the picture, his mouth in a tight line. “She lives in Tulsa.” He’d quickly changed the subject after that.

I’ve wanted ever since to ask what’s wrong between him and his mother. But I don’t want to see that haunted expression return to his face, and I’m not sure he would tell me anyway. Blue seems to have so many secrets.

There’s a sadness about him, something deep down that connects with the same emotion inside me. I’m always wondering if he feels it, too.

The band segues into a different song, and the crowd in the living room shouts its approval. Blue gives me a wide grin, his eyes shining. I can feel his energy, his passion for the music, his love of performing.

Megz is swaying to the sound, her puffy costume sleeve tickling my arm. I’d told her about the Halloween party at the house; I’ve told her about all the parties. But I did not expect her to show up this afternoon, bursting into my bedroom and throwing her arms around me.

I wasn’t planning to spend much time at the party. I only wanted to listen to Blue play for a little while. I hadn’t even bothered with a costume. I’ve got a paper due in my European Civilization class and a lit test to study for. But now it looks like I’ll be entertaining Megz, at least until tomorrow.

Not that I mind too much. I’ve missed my best friend; I’ve missed how good she is at getting me out of my own head.

“God, he is so fucking hot!” she yells in my ear, her eyes fixed on Blue. “Think he’d be interested in a threesome?” Megz knows all about my relationship with Blue. She knows he’s Bootstrap Bill’s son.

I’ve filled her in—mostly by text, with a bunch of suggestive emojis and way too many exclamation marks—on all the sex we’ve been having. I’ve told her about the scars on his back. About the nightmares he has.

I know she’s joking about the threesome; at least, I’m pretty sure she is. But I must still

look a bit shocked because Megz laughs and wiggles her tongue at me, then loops an arm around my neck and pulls me close. “Just kidding, KeeKee.” Her beer-laced breath hits my cheek. “I know you’re not up for anything like that.”

I grit my teeth at her condescending tone. Happy or not, I’m still sensitive about being labeled a Goody Two Shoes. Maybe because I know that I am one, in a lot of ways.

“Oh, come on, bestie,” Megz murmurs, running an affectionate thumb down my cheek, “you know I love you just as you are. We balance each other out. We always have. I’m the dark, and you’re the light.”

I spot Hunter—dressed as a Viking with a fake sword and horned helmet—standing nearby. He’s looking my bestie up and down, brazenly showing his appreciation for her skin-tight costume.

“Hey, who’s your hot friend?” he yells at me, leaning across Megz and deliberately brushing her chest as I roll my eyes. I’m irritated by the lame, obnoxious move. It’s so Hunter.

But Megz doesn’t seem to mind. She’s smiling, giving him the flirty, come hither look

I’ve seen her use on guys a zillion times before.

I consider warning her off Hunter. But Megz likes bold, brash, good-looking, and hard-partying boys. Hunter totally fits the bill. Plus, I know she can handle him. I should probably be more worried about him than her. She’s broken a lot of hearts.

I’ve just opened my mouth to introduce them when someone pokes me sharply in the side. I turn to find Kendra glaring at me with the same hostile expression that’s been plastered on her face since I moved in. I am so over it.

She’s wearing this glimmery jumpsuit that plunges in front almost to her belly button. It shows off her lean, sinewy body. And she’s got on gold, glittery eyeshadow, with a bunch of gold and silver bracelets lining her arms. No idea what she’s supposed to be. I’m sure as hell not going to ask.

“Some guy is out front and wants to talk to you,” Kendra snaps, hands on her hips.

“Huh?” The band has stopped playing for a moment, so I can hear her fine; I’m just surprised.

The band starts another song. Kendra’s eyes shift toward Blue, and I turn my head to look at him, too. He’s staring at us with that uncomfortable expression he always gets when Kendra and I interact.

Her gaze snaps back to me. “I said, there’s some dude on the front porch who wants to speak to you.” Now she’s practically shouting at me. She rolls her eyes in disgust. “He won’t come inside.”

I twist around to look out the front windows, but there are too many people blocking my view. I turn back to Kendra. “Who—”

She puts a hand up in front of my face. “I said I’d tell you and I have. Now I’ve got better things to do. I’m not your goddamn babysitter.” She flounces away with the aggrieved air of someone who’s done a noble yet unappreciated deed.

I shrug at Blue and roll my eyes again. Such a pain in the ass, I mouth. He raises an eyebrow and then grins at me before focusing again on the music.

I lean toward Megz; she’s already chatting with Hunter. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I say in her ear.

Making my way through the crowd, I wonder who on earth could be waiting for me on the front porch. My stomach lurches as my father’s face suddenly flashes before my eyes. Could it be Dad out there? Would he just show up, wanting to check on me or something?

Yeah, he might. And he would not be happy to find me living in a raucous party house. I left out that bit of info. Shit, shit, shit. Please don’t let it be my dad.

I’ve almost reached the door when it opens in a rush and a couple of clearly drunk guys stumble inside. I maneuver around them and quickly scan what I can see of the porch.

There are quite a few people hanging out, but I don’t see anyone I know.

Then I step through the door. From the far end of the porch, he turns to face me.

Keegan

I can still feel his lips all over me. I can feel the heat from the fire on my bare skin. And the weight of Blue’s body, pressing into mine. I can still feel him inside me.

“Keegan?”

I jerk to attention, the Daily newsroom coming back into focus. Everyone is looking at me.

Dear God. Were my eyes closed? Did I actually moan?

“Keegan?” the editor, Jason, says again. He’s obviously asked me a question, but I have no idea what it was.

I sit up straighter and open my mouth to answer, a deep blush burning my cheeks. I have to clear my throat before I can speak.

“Sorry, what?”

When I first woke up in the cave and saw Blue slumbering next to me, I’d stretched luxuriously, enjoying the feel of our naked bodies pressed together and the warmth of the still-glowing embers from the fire.

And then I remembered the editorial meeting that started at five o’clock.

Jumping to my feet with a shriek, I threw on my clothes, and Blue and I raced back through the woods to his car.

“I can’t believe we fell asleep,” I kept saying frantically as we ran, sure my journalism career was going to end before it even began. Getting fired from the student newspaper sure wouldn’t help me get my first job.

Blue drove like a crazy man, trying to get me back on time. But I still scrambled into the newsroom twenty minutes late.

Now, a sweaty, itchy mess, I can feel myself blushing all over. I swallow, hard. “I’m sorry, could you repeat what you said?”

Jason pushes a hand through his curly brown hair and pins me with an impatient look. “I said,” he repeats, “how’s the Sorenson piece going?”

I clock the disgusted eye roll that passes between two others on the paper’s staff. One’s a general assignment reporter, and the other is assigned to cover Ikana’s administration.

I get it. They don’t think I should be on staff. I’m only a freshman; in fact, I’m the only freshman on staff.

And I didn’t exactly get here on my own merits. They probably know that, too. And yet, Jason assigned to me the profile of the college’s new provost, John Sorensen.

“It’s going well,” I respond, forcing confidence into my voice. “I was finally able to pin down a specific day for the interview. It’s this Friday. In the meantime, I have a lot of research and some great quotes about him from other people.”

Assuming Sorenson actually goes through with it, the story will be a feather in my journalistic cap.

Jason looks surprised at my update. “Good! I’m looking forward to reading it.”

I’ve been wondering why Jason gave me—a total newbie—the assignment. Does he want me to fail? Is he looking for an excuse to get rid of me? Or did he want to see if I’d use my grandmother’s name to get Sorenson to sit down with me.

Which, of course, is exactly what I did when I called his office.

I know I’m a damn hypocrite. But I’m determined to make the most of this opportunity.

The meeting goes on, and I do my best to pay attention. But it’s hard not to let my thoughts drift back to Blue.

When the meeting ends, I follow Jason into his office, wanting to apologize again for being late and distracted.

After my fumbling apology, Jason just stands there, running his fingers along a bookshelf that holds bound copies of the campus paper all the way back to its founding in the 1960s.

I study the profile of his long, pointy face. One of the other staffers told me my first day at the paper that Jason’s grandmother was the Daily’s first female reporter. And that the Parkers were one of Hickory Flat’s founding families. Apparently, Jason still lives with his parents in the sprawling family home on Main Street.

“Not a problem, Keegan,” he finally says, still staring at the binders. He shifts his gaze to me, one eyebrow lifted. “But don’t let it happen again.”

I nod and then blush as I wonder if he can tell what I’ve been doing, if my hair is sticking up in the back, if I smell like the woods and the cave and the fire. If I smell like sex; like really good sex.

“So, how’d you get Sorenson to agree to an interview?” Jason asks, a cold smile on his face. “I heard a bunch of different outlets have been asking. I’ve called at least three times about it.”

He lets out a short laugh, adding, “I guess you got it the same way you got the job here.” It’s not the first time I’ve noticed the hint of venom in his voice.

I lift my chin and level a defiant look at him. “Yeah,” I acknowledge, “I did drop my grandmother’s name. And it worked, obviously. I’m the one who’s getting the interview.”

I don’t miss the flash of resentment that crosses his face.

“Whatever it takes, I guess,” he smirks, rounding the corner of his desk and sitting heavily in the chair.

“See you tomorrow,” he dismisses me, starting to type on his laptop. “Don’t be late.”

I’m fuming over Jason’s words and his tone as I leave the newsroom. I guess I should have kept my mouth shut, just let him get in his digs. But I couldn’t help pushing back a little.

I head for the back door of the building; it’s a shorter walk to the house this way.

Pushing open the door, I step into the parking lot, squinting into the setting sun. The warm night air is a relief after the overly air-conditioned newsroom.

And then I see Blue, leaning against his car, smiling at me.

“Your chariot awaits, Madame,” he quips, gesturing toward the Coupe with a mischievous grin.

I forget all about Jason and his passive aggressive bullshit. My answering grin is so wide and possibly ridiculous that it feels like my face is going to split. It’s only been a couple of hours since I was with Blue, but seeing him still feels kind of like a homecoming.

“You didn’t need to come get me,” I say, twisting my hands together, suddenly feeling shy. “It’s only a couple of miles. I was going to walk.”

Blue is already shaking his head, and I realize I didn’t mean it. I was hoping, I think, that he’d be here, waiting for me. He scoops me into his arms and pulls me against the car, giving me a long, deep kiss. Just like he did in the cave. My whole body starts to tingle.

“No way I’m letting you walk,” he murmurs as he leans his forehead against mine. “I want to get you home as soon as possible.”

Home. How can a place I’ve only been living in a couple of weeks, with people I barely know, feel like home? And yet, because of Blue, it does.

“Because I can’t wait to make love to you again, Keegan” he whispers as I’m thinking the crinkling at the corners of his eyes should be illegal.

The breath of his words on my face feels almost more intimate than the kissing.

I think of a line from Top Gun, the movie my parents saw on their first date. I used to groan every time they told the story of that date. I used to pretend to vomit every time my mother quoted from it.

But now, I smile into another of Blue’s kisses, the mellow throbbing between my legs leaving me weak-kneed.

“Then take me to bed, ya big stud,” I respond, getting the Top Gun quote slightly out of order, “or lose me forever.”