(Seaside Pictures, #2) -Keep Rachel Van Dyken

Table of Contents Front Matter Dedication Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Chapter Forty-Four Chapter Forty-Five Chapter Forty-Six Epilogue About The Author Acknowledgments

Also by Rachel Van Dyken

Keep A Seaside Pictures Novel by Rachel Van Dyken Copyright © 2016 RACHEL VAN DYKEN This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

KEEP Copyright © 2016 RACHEL VAN DYKEN ISBN: 9780997145113 Cover Art by P.S. Cover Design

Dedication To anyone experiencing anxiety—or the very real stresses behind—this is for you. May you find your mallow <3

Prologue Zane MY PALMS SLID AGAINST the guitar, slick with sweat, I tried to wipe them across my jeans, but it was no

use. The noise was deafening. I had to remind myself why I was up there. “Saint! Saint! Saint!” Stomping ensued while I knelt down and made the sign of a cross in the air in front of me. “We want Saint! We want Saint!” With a muffled curse, I stood, then reached into my tight jeans to pull out a smashed marshmallow. I popped it in my mouth and closed my eyes, allowing myself to be transported back to a simpler time, a time when things were easy, when decisions weren’t all on me. When life was about making mud pies and carrying around miniature marshmallows in a measuring cup. “You don’t have to save the world,” she whispered. “You know that, right?” “Right.” I furrowed my brow. “But why is it wrong to try?” “Oh, Zane,” My grandma leaned down to eye level. “Just because your parents were taken from you, doesn’t make it your job to make sure everyone and everything is safe from the bad in the world.” My frown deepened as she walked off, my two little sisters skipping after her. I was the man of the house. It was my responsibility to take care of the girls, especially Grandma, with no other family but her. That was my job. My papa told me so on my last birthday when I turned six; he said I was a man. And it was time to be that man. I quickly ran into my room and started making a list of how I could help. I didn’t want Grandma to lose the house, but how could she keep it if she wasn’t working? I never saw her leave for work, and we used those funny coupon things in line at the store, and sometimes, I had to bring stuff back because we couldn’t afford it. With determination, I sat at my desk and started writing out my list: 1. Make enough money so Grandma isn’t hungry. Because sometimes she gives me her extra meatloaf. I hate meatloaf. 2. Be famous, so I make money. 3. Make sure Grandma keeps her house. I thought a little harder, shoving the end of the pen into my mouth. What else? With a grin, I wrote out the last number. Tears ran down my face at the memories, but I wrote it anyway. 4. Never, ever run out of marshmallows again. I took the stage two stairs at a time, hands still shaking, body still trembling with anxiety, and

grabbed the mic stand, sliding it in front of me. I gave a smug grin to the waiting crowd as I strummed out the first two notes. The lights dimmed, as the audience cheered, and then I held one finger to my lips as I motioned for them to be quiet. The entire stadium went silent. “I’m Saint…” I chuckled. “Are you ready to be saved?”

Chapter One Fallon “NOPE!” I HELD MY hands in the air and started walking backwards, maneuvering my way through crowds on the boardwalk. “This is where I draw the line. I’m not a stalker!” “But you could be.” My friend Maggie nodded her head vigorously. “You just need to fully commit to the idea.” “Of going to prison?” “Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes, gaining on me. If I turned and ran from my best friend and then hid in a trashcan would that make me lose best friend status or just mean I was smart? I started to turn on my heel, but she grabbed my elbow and tugged me back toward Main Street. “Do you really think he’d send a blind nineteen-year-old to prison?” “I’m not blind!” I yelled. “That’s lying!” “Your glasses are huge.” Maggie’s eyes widened as if to show me logistically how huge my glasses really were. “Trust me, just pretend like you can’t see, he’ll totally buy it.” “But I can see.” “Without your glasses you’re legally blind as a bat,” she pointed out, her long blond ponytail swishing as she picked up speed. We went from walking to jogging all within the span of a few seconds. I tried to dig my heels into the ground, but she was strong. And I’d always been small. Only five foot one. So even though she was barely five four, she still had some strength on me. “Mags, stop!” I yelped, nearly stumbling into an elderly couple. “We are not doing this. You know I stutter when I get really nervous!” “Perfect!” She seemed absolutely thrilled at my terror, damn her. We rounded the corner. I didn’t see any sign of him. Thank God. “Look,” I huffed, making a mental note that I needed to work on my cardio if all it took was five seconds of jogging for me to get my butt handed to me. “You didn’t really see him, you’ve just been watching way too much reality TV. TMZ said he’s here for the fall working on his album. He came here to get away from the crowd, not meet some obsessed groupie!” “I’m not a groupie.” Mags didn’t look back at me as she jumped into the air then went and climbed onto a park bench and continued her vain search of Zane Andrews. “Plus, at his last concert we made eye contact, you know what that means, right?” I had officially lost all patience. Mags was home for a long weekend, while I’d been home for

months since I wasn’t starting my freshman year at Portland State until the spring. “Fallon!” Mags nearly jumped onto my face as she scrambled off the bench and started sprinting down the street. Well, I was going to have to bail her out of jail. That was all there was to it. Deciding she could text me later, I turned on my heel and collided with a nice old man. I dropped to the ground with a huff. My glasses fell off my face, and I was pretty sure I was going to have a bruised tailbone. “Sorry, dear.” The old man said in a sweet voice. “Didn’t see you there.” “That’s okay.” Pavement scraped my palm as I fumbled around for my glasses; I really was blind as a bat without them. All I could make out were blurry images of people shuffling around me. The old man was in a walker, not like he could actually skip over to where my glasses had fallen and hand them over. “You okay?” he asked. “Yup, I’m great.” I exhaled. “What about you?” “Fit as a fiddle.” He shuffled by me, at least it looked like he did. “Shoot.” The glasses should be on my right, they fell that way. Or had they fallen left? The sidewalk was starting to burn my butt in all the wrong places. Stupid Mags! “Either you just fell…” came a smooth, silky voice, “or you like hanging out between trash cans in your spare time.” “Trash cans.” I sighed, then slumped my shoulders and gave up. “Would you believe me if I told you right now they look like giant ice cream cones?” “Sure.” The guy chuckled, and then hands were on my shoulders jolting me to my feet, and my glasses were placed on my face. I adjusted them on my nose and looked at my rescuer then stopped breathing altogether. Zane Andrews. A Yankees cap covered his gorgeous hair and he lacked a shirt. Zane Freaking Andrews, completely and totally without any clothes on his upper body. I begged my eyes not to fail me twice in one day and kept them firmly fixed on his face. “A little advice.” Zane leaned in and whispered, forming the words with perfect lips. “It’s creepier when you don’t blink.” My entire body went numb with embarrassment. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. I’m just in shock, it’s not every day a rock star finds you sitting between two trash cans.” “And dog shit. Don’t forget that.” His side grin had me sucking in a breath of much-needed air as he pointed to doggy doo right next to where I’d fallen. Awesome. “Great.” I held out my hand. “Well, thank you for your rescue.” Well, thank you for your rescue? I mentally slapped myself. Who says crap like that? His lips pressed together in a suppressed smile as he took my hand and shook it firmly. “A girl

with manners. I like it.” He didn’t release my hand. “If I didn’t know your name I’d probably call you sir too, it’s just how I was raised.” Stop talking, Fallon. Stop. Talking. “Hmm, I may like that regardless.” He grinned. “Has a ring to it, don’t you think? Sir…” Somehow he maneuvered himself so that he wasn’t holding onto my hand anymore but had slid his hand up my arm and put his own arm around my shoulder. “What’s your name?” “F-Fallon.” There it was, the stutter. And I had been doing so good! Why, God? WHY! “Fallon.” He repeated it. I tried to keep my eyes averted, but it was so hard not to stare at him. At the diamond stud in his nose, or the fact that every time he moved, I felt warm skin against my bare arm. He was bigger than I thought he’d be, extremely fit but just…big all around. “Would you be offended?” He stopped walking and turned me toward him. “Offended?” I frowned. “If I used you as a human shield?” “A human, what?” “Ten girls just spotted me. They’re currently skipping in our direction. My choices are run, but I’m kinda winded from all this titillating conversation.” He winked. My knees knocked together. I loved it when guys used big words. Having a gorgeous face or body was one thing, but if the guy actually had a brain? Or knew how to spell? He was officially my knight in shining armor, only instead of a sword, I pictured a rather large dictionary in his hand as he whispered sweet words like titillating into my ear while feeding me grapes. “Or I can make them think I’m pre-occupied with someone who isn’t after my autograph.” “O-o-okay.” I thanked God I finally got the stupid word out. “Fabulous.” That was the only warning he gave me before he tugged me down the street and into an alleyway. I barely had time to process the change of scenery before he leaned in and kissed me across the mouth.

Chapter Two Zane SHE WAS NERD HOT.

Like the girl who peaks after high school but has no idea how damn cute she is. Her lips were soft, and I swear they tasted like marshmallow. What the hell kind of chapstick smelled like marshmallows and who did I have to kill to get a hold of some? I broke off the kiss just as she swayed toward me. “Well, Fallon.” I held out my hand. “It’s been nice doing business with you.” “Hmm? Wh-what?” Her big brown eyes blinked at me through hella thick glasses. “The kiss. Business transaction. Human shield. Saved my life. The end.” “Good story.” “What can I say? I’m a storyteller at heart.” I winked and placed a shaky hand against the brick wall behind her. I acted like it was fine. But the shaking was getting worse. As if the screaming made the shaking harder to control. And just like that, I felt the choking sensation of anxiety as I tried to rein in my emotions and concentrate on the nerd in front of me, the nerd who really had saved me from having a mental breakdown in front of ten fans. It would have made the news. And that was the last thing I needed. Better they assume I’m on hard drugs or nursing a broken heart than actually know the truth behind my anxiety and health issues. “Chapstick,” I blurted. “What kind do you use?” Her eyes did that adorable little slow blink again as she took a deep breath. “I make it.” I couldn’t have heard her correctly. “You make it?” Nerd girl licked the chapstick from her lips with more aggression than necessary which naturally had me staring at them like I’d never seen a sexy pout before. “That’s what I said.” “I was just making sure.” I really needed to focus on anything but her mouth. “Because you’re the chapstick police? Or you’re worried I violated some sort of health code by making flavored lip balm in my parents’ basement?” “You have a basement?” “What?”

“You just said you have a basement.” “Where I m-make my lip balm.” She nodded. Teasing her may become one of my new favorite things, which meant I was procrastinating, because I was in an alleyway with a strange girl, anything to keep from going back to the house. “I’ve never seen one.” “Lip balm?” “A basement!” I slapped her on the back. “Keep up.” “T-trying.” She shivered as the wind picked up. “Okay, well, I think I’ll just go now…” I grabbed the hood from her sweatshirt and tugged her back. “Where can I get some?” “S-some?” Her eyes widened like I’d just asked for sex. “Chapstick, lip balm, whatever you call it.” I clarified with a wink. “At the store.” She blinked dumbly. “Do you not…go to stores or something?” I fought to keep my voice from shaking. “Not if I can help it.” “Seriously?” “Seriously.” “Because of the fans?” “Yeah,” I lied. “They toss condoms in my shopping basket, and it’s pure hell when the sales clerk asks why I have both small and extra large as if I don’t know my own penis size, ergo, no shopping for Zane.” “Do all celebrities use their name in the third person?” “Demetri Daniels does.” “The AD2 singer?” “The very one.” “Aren’t you living with him?” “Ah… So you are a stalker, you’re just a really calm one?” She clenched her tiny hands into fists at her sides. “Yes. Calm on the outside, doing cartwheels like a cheerleader on the inside, you should see my uniform.” I placed my hand across my chest. “Oh God, tell me it has a giant Z on it.” “With chapstick.” She grinned, finally smiling, then tucked her wavy strawberry blonde hair behind her ears. “So, this has officially been the weirdest conversation of my life.” Fallon reached into her pocket and pulled out a tube of chapstick. “It’s on the house.” “Our first gift exchange.” I teased. “But I didn’t get you anything?” “Yeah, you did.” She blushed. “Ah, the kiss?” “Yup. Consider your debt paid.” “It wasn’t a hardship.” I took a tentative step toward her, my body already craving more. What the

hell was wrong with me? A dark red color spread over her cheeks, and I fought every urge within myself to reach out and touch her skin, to feel if it was hot to the touch or just a natural reaction to my presence. I was used to girls flashing me, not blushing around me. Maybe that was why I was still a virgin. I saw so much tits and ass that it had lost all its effect. Or maybe I was a scared chicken shit little girl. Too afraid to get my heart broken to risk the thrill of sliding my dick into home base.” “Zane?” Fallon whispered. “Hmm?” “You’re shaking.” She pointed to my hands. I hid them behind my back. “Sorry, I had a lot of caffeine today, and the sugar doesn’t help.” “Oh.” She licked her lips. Damn it. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” “You too.” I watched her walk off, and felt a little tug, as if I wanted to keep talking to her. But I had no reason to. I glanced down at the chapstick in my hand. “Hey, Fallon?” “Yeah?” She turned around quickly, like she’d expected me to stop her, which had my blood pumping harder, faster. She really was pretty, if you looked past the glasses. Then again that was hard to do, considering they were so big on her face. I tossed her my phone. “I need my dealer ’s number.” “Dealer?” She barely managed to catch the phone, thank God she did since it was the third one I’d had in two weeks. I held up the chapstick. “Your number, Fallon. Just in case I run out.” “Because you don’t go to the store,” she said, eyes narrowing. “You make home deliveries right?” “If you buy enough,” she grumbled then typed in her number and tossed it back underhand pitch style. “There you go.” “How much is enough?” I called out as she turned the corner. But she didn’t answer. And when I looked down at the phone, it wasn’t her number, but the one to the local Dominoes. I only knew because I had pizza every Friday, and Seaside had officially one pizza place. “Damn it.” I ran after her, but she was gone, lost in a crowd I didn’t want to deal with because I hated crowds. So I disappeared back into the alley and made my way home. Home. Hah, not really.

More like, made my way back to Jamie Jaymeson’s house. Because home? Yeah, I hadn’t had one of those in a really long time. And most nights, when I was being completely honest with myself, I admitted that I never would. Not in the way that counted. And probably not ever. I hated the harshness of reality as it crashed in perfect cadence with the waves across the sand. Having a home had never been about having a safe place—it had been about the feeling being safe brings you. Sometimes school was home. Sometimes the tree house was home. But when the safety nets get ripped away, you realize, home is nothing, without the people that make it that way. And that’s what I was missing. The key part of my life. A family.

Chapter Three Zane “PANTS.” JAYMESON EYED ME up and down wearily. “Blokes wear pants.” “It’s too early to use the word ‘bloke.’” I muttered, slapping his ass as I walked past him to grab a cup of much-needed coffee. With a grunt, he placed his hands on the counter and moved his lips like he was praying. “Jay?” “Shhh.” “Jay?” “I’m counting to ten, so I don’t blow your bloody head off.” “America!” I shouted. “Fun fact: did you know your accent’s really thick in the morning? Almost impossible to decipher if you’re actually speaking English or something else.” Jaymeson pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m suddenly remembering why I hesitated before saying yes, yes Zane I’d love to have you come stay with me and my new wife. You need a room? A bed to sleep in? A roof to cover your head? Hell, take my bloody dog while you’re at it! Oh, what’s that? You want to steal my friends too? Be my guest.” With a grin, I sat on the barstool and sipped the hot, bitter liquid. “You done yet?” “Yes.” He frowned. “Maybe.” A shrug. “I think I have more anger inside.” “Sex cures anger.” “So does shooting things,” he fired back, finally grabbing his coffee and slamming the newspaper against the granite counter top before dropping it. “Tsk tsk, need I remind you who my cousin is?” I teased. “Oh, dear God, not this again!” He held one hand up stop sign style as if to prevent me from talking “Please spare me the story of your Italian mafia connected family. That’s complete shite and you know it.” “Fine.” I sighed. “Just don’t get pissed when I call in a favor and a sleek black Mercedes pulls up to the curb and a man in a suit tells you to get in.” “You watch too many movies.” “This from an A-list actor and movie director?” His eyes narrowed. “They’ll put you on ice.” “The Godfather was on HBO last night again wasn’t it?” “Hey Vin, we got a problem…” I said using my best Italian Mafioso voice, then rubbed my chin.

“We go to the mattresses.” Jay stared at me, hard. “Sure you don’t want to be in my next movie?” “And have more fangirls chasing me around while I hide out on a carousel next to a unicorn that just so happens to hump my leg every time it comes down? Hell, no.” “One instance.” “It was enough.“ And then I added, “It had pink sparkles. Do you have any idea what that does to a man?” “Come on.” Oh, I knew that look. Gone was my teasing friend. Now he was all business; then again, he had good reason. He was one of Hollywood’s hottest action stars, had married a local girl from Seaside, cast her in his last movie and basically solidified himself as one of the freshest directors of the decade. And he had no trouble at all trying to convince every pretty face around him to hop on the train, including our mutual friends AD2. It was bad enough that I was helping with the soundtrack to the next movie while still trying to finish my own album. Knowing Jaymeson was basically like knowing every single hot name in the industry. What was even weirder was that for the most part, we all knew each other, and we were all friends. “Think about it.” Jay rapped his knuckles against the counter top. “I mean at least it would get you out of the dark.” “No thanks.” I cut him off, irritated that he’d pulled that card, angry that he’d use my own weakness against me. When I looked up, I wanted to toss him on his ass and slam my fist into his face. It was pity. Always the pity with Jaymeson. Like I was some wounded-ass bird that needed to be kept in a box. He was the only one who knew what haunted me. Because he was the only friend I’d ever really had. Which was pathetic, all things considered. I’d met him when I was just starting out in the industry, and when it became too much, when I wanted to end it all, he helped me through it. Damn him. “I’ll think about it.” I found myself saying quietly, maybe more to myself than to him. “Just stop pressuring me about shit.” “Jay!” Pris’ voice interrupted our tense stare down. “Stop picking on our house guest.” I puffed out my chest. “Yes, stop picking on me.” “Oh…crap.” Pris stumbled behind me then ran out of the room. I took a swig of coffee. “She just now noticed I’m naked?”

“Yup.” Jay looked out toward the window. “Looks like it’s going to be a nice day today.” “Really sunny.” I agreed. Dani, Pris’ sister, marched into the room and tossed a pair of sweatpants at my face, nearly knocking over my coffee in the process. “PEOPLE WEAR PANTS!” She turned, grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot, and then gave me a sweet smile. I narrowed my eyes. “Remember the good old days when you were mute? God, I miss those.” She stuck out her tongue while Jay’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh, please.” I snickered. “She can take it. And just say no to pants, Dani.” Her eyebrow arched as she turned around and went into the pantry. My palms started to sweat as she returned with both bags of jumbo marshmallows. “Dani,” I warned. She tore open the bags and held both over the garbage disposal. “What was that, Zane?” “You’re pretty?” “Hell yeah, she is,” Linc said as he sleepily wandered into the room. “Bloody hell!” Jaymeson roared. “How do you keep getting in! I lock things!” “Magic.” He winked. “Right Dani?” Jay plugged his ears while Dani and I continued our stare down. “Fine.” I sighed and pulled the pants on. “Happy?” “I think I speak for all of us when I say yes.” She popped a mallow into her mouth. “Hand over the goods.” I held out my hand, the one that wasn’t shaking, the one that wasn’t freaking the hell out. With great care, she placed both of the bags in front of me and smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t have done it.” “Oh, please.” “Swear.” “Lies.” “Murder is murder, Saint.” “Saint! Saint! Saint!” I chanted then offered an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, just reliving the glory days.” Linc slapped me on the back of the head. “You wouldn’t have to if you would finish your damn album.” “What is this?” I threw my hands up into the air. “A man can’t be naked? The way God made him? I go from waking up perfectly happy, to being blackmailed into doing Jay’s next movie, and nearly witnessing the murder of my girlfriends!” “Girlfriends?” Jay repeated in a confused tone. “My precious.” I held up the marshmallows while he bit off a curse and walked away, giving the

impression he was done dealing with my bullshit. Linc stared me down like I was a science experiment he needed to figure out. “Zane, you need to get out.” “I don’t need a mom.” “You can’t even iron a shirt,” Dani pointed out. “Not that Linc can either but…” “Hey!” he yelled, shooting her a hard stare. “Spoiled Hollywood stars.” She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “At least Alec and Demetri know how to do laundry.” Bringing up AD2, the dudes I had to record with in—I checked the kitchen clock—an hour, was not the way I wanted to start my day. Because while they were super excited about the project, I was suffering from serious writer ’s block. And really just wanted to go back to bed. Holy shit, maybe I was depressed. I just felt…empty. For no reason. Well, I mean, there was a reason, but it was stupid. Like everything else. Linc elbowed me in the side. “It’s a small part. He needs you to play a really small part. It’ll get you out of the house.” “I think I’d rather drink acid.” “People take it, they don’t drink it.” Dani said, eavesdropping on our conversation. “Seriously?” I thumbed in her direction. “She’s only eighteen, Linc! Stop teaching her shit she shouldn’t know.” “Oh right, because out of all the Hollywood people she knows, I’m the bad influence?” His eyebrows rose while Dani coughed and pointed at me. “PLEASE!” I yelled. “I’m the least offensive out of all of you! Alec and Demetri were drug addicts, they could have been tried for homicide!” A while ago they had come to Seaside Oregon to get away from the press. What was supposed to be a short vacation had ended up making Seaside the new Hollywood hot spot. They married local girls, became even more famous, Jaymeson followed out of pure curiosity and married the pastor ’s daughter! See, another scandal! And Dani had nearly died in a car wreck leaving her a selective mute until Linc saved her or whatever. It was all bullshit. I was the least dramatic out of all of them! I didn’t even drink! “Thanks, man.” A deep voice sounded from the door. “Always fun when people talk about you behind your back.” Alec waltzed right past me, grabbed a coffee mug from the tree on the counter, and filled it from the pot.

“Technically, I’m in front of your back, second, is there a coffee shortage? Why is everyone here? And Linc, honest moment, how the hell do you get in the house every night?” “It’s a mystery.” He grinned. “Hey! You’re wearing clothes!” Demetri sauntered in a few minutes later and held up his hand for a high five. I hit it. I liked Demetri. He didn’t take life too seriously, and he was always laughing. When he wasn’t mauling his wife. Which was at least ninety percent of the time. I let my head fall against the countertop. “Clothes are like bondage.” “Don’t knock it until you try it,” Alec said quietly. Demetri choked out a curse then started gagging. “Please don’t talk about my sister-in-law like that —I saw Fifty Shades. I know how it ends, Gray.” “We don’t have time to reenact Fifty, guys,” Jay was dressed and ready to go for the day. “We have to be on set in ten, and you three”—he pointed at me, Alec, and Demetri—“go to the studio. Write gold. Make it award worthy.” I had the sudden need to shrink into my seat. “Only if he puts on a shirt.” Demetri pointed at me. “I find his nakedness offensive.” I snorted. “More like you find my six-pack offensive. Most guys do.” “Dude.” He lifted his shirt. “Oh goodie, a pissing match.” Linc looked heavenward. “There’s too much testosterone.” Dani yelled while Pris came into the room and rolled her eyes. Pris and Dani linked arms. “You know what we need?” Dani said to the room. All talking ceased. She grinned in my direction. “A girl to even the odds. You’re the last man standing, Zane…” “No.” I shook my head vehemently. “No. Hell. NO.” “Blind dates!” Demetri shouted. “We could film it and—” “No!” I roared. “I’m not going on blind dates, are you guys insane? I’ve been knifed before! By a fan! With a real knife!” “She wanted to make a blood sacrifice,” Jay whispered and shivered. “Oh, look at the time.” I stood. “I’ll just grab that shirt.” I tried not to sulk as I went into the room that wasn’t really mine and grabbed the first shirt closest to me. “Hey…” Dani’s soft voice floated into the room. I hesitated, then put the shirt over my shoulders and turned, pulling it down. “Hey, yourself.” “I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together and stared out the window, gathering my thoughts. “For?” “Pressuring you.” I sensed her walking over to me and then felt her hand on my shoulder. “I just…

I worry about you, that’s all.” “You and everyone else in this dysfunctional group of crazy.” I hung my head. “But, Dani, I’m fine.” “You’re lonely.” I frowned. “No offense, but you’ve known me two months, Dani.” “Doesn’t matter though, does it?” She bit down on her lip and then crossed her arms. “Because truth is truth.” “Yeah.” My voice cracked. “Truth is truth.” “Just…think about branching out…maybe actually going out to dinner once a week instead of holing up in the house with the lights off and windows locked.” I smirked. “You make me sound crazy.” “I found you with a half-eaten bag of marshmallows two nights ago, you were spooning one bag and moaning.” “To each his own, Dani girl.” I winked. “I’m terrified for the girl you end up with.” “What? Why would you say that?” “You’re a virgin, and you’re the most sexually charged dude I’ve ever met in my entire life.” I froze. Because ever since that conversation a few months ago where I’d confessed one of my dirty little secrets, we hadn’t discussed it. “Yeah, well…” Why was I embarrassed? No, wait…that feeling wasn’t embarrassment, it was… confusion. “I’ll be sure to take it easy on her.” “You walk around naked twenty-four seven. That’s hardly taking it easy on us, and we’re your friends.” “You’re welcome?” I offered, then pulled her in for a tight hug. “Okay serious Full House talk is over, the music stopped playing, we hugged, and I’ve learned my lesson. Time for work.” “Wait!” Dani laughed. “Am I DJ?” “Eh, you’re more annoying.” I shrugged and then patted her head. “Like Michelle.” “Which makes you?” “Aw, sweetheart…It should be obvious. I’m Uncle Jesse.” She burst out laughing. “Come on, give Uncle Jesse a hug.” “Go to hell.” “Love you too, Dani.”

Chapter Four Fallon “STOP SCREAMING!” I HUSHED Maggie with my hand. “You’re going to attract attention…people… Seagulls!” She jerked away from me, her expression one of complete exasperation. “What is with you and birds?” “Never mind!” I shivered and shoved my hands in my jean pockets. What had possessed me to tell her about meeting Zane? No idea. Maybe it was the fact that I was a horrible liar, and when she saw the scratch on my glasses she started asking questions. Had I run into a tree? Gotten hit by a car? Tripped over my own feet? Okay, fine so all of the above have at least happened to me once, in my life, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, when I opened my mouth, I wasn’t fast enough with my lie, and Maggie had known me since we were in first grade, meaning she saw right through me. “Was he hot?” “He was shirtless.” I swallowed past the constant dryness in my throat, the dryness that had been there since yesterday when Zane stole my chapstick and asked me to make a house call. “You’re blushing!” She pointed and laughed. Why were we best friends again? “I can’t believe it! The last time you blushed was in fifth grade when Jason asked if you wanted to partner with him on a book report.” “Bastard did absolutely no work! You know I have no tolerance for group projects.” I kicked a rock with my shoe and crossed my arms as the wind from the beach picked up, tossing my wavy hair into my face, and of course, getting caught in my chapstick. “Bitter much?” “We got an A minus.” “It was fifth grade. Besides, I think you got your revenge when you grew boobs and turned him down at Homecoming.” I rolled my eyes. “And prom.” I kept walking. “And homecoming again.” “Okay.” I smiled. “I get your point. And yes, I’m blushing, and yes he was hot, he had no shirt.” “You said that.” “Because it’s true…”

“Good one, Fallon.” She patted my back then started rubbing as if I needed to calm down. But I was fine. Perfectly fine, totally in control of my emotions. It was a weird run-in with a celebrity. Whatever. They’re just like us, except richer, prettier, more naked… A small cry from Maggie had me jerking my head in her direction. “What? What’s wrong?” “I love you.” She sighed. “Just remember that.” I didn’t have time to brace myself before she pushed me off the boardwalk and into the sand. It was a good four-foot fall. My skinny jeans ripped across my knees the minute they hit the sand. “Son of a monkey!” I yelled. “Do sons have monkeys?” A deep, toe-curling voice asked, and then a head followed as it peered over the ledge, followed by two more. I was afraid to blink. I’d hit my head. Either that. Or rockers AD2 and Zane Andrews were all staring at me from the boardwalk, an amused Maggie smirking behind them. Great. I’d be lucky to get a full sentence out. “It’s been a while since I’ve met a purist.” Demetri nodded. “A girl who doesn’t swear. Quick, say something else.” Zane glared at him while I tried standing and dusting off my sandy jeans. It was no use. Sand was in my hair, my ears, and my torn pants. It was tempting. To run away toward the ocean, forget to hold my breath, but then, what would my parents do? Ugh, drowning never looked so awesome and appealing, and I had a very serious fear of sharks. Instead, I pressed my hands on the cement ledge and heaved myself over it. My strength wasn’t all there, so basically I flailed over the ledge, and landed on my ass peering up at Zane, much like the day before. “And so we meet again.” He swept his hand out in front of me. “Do this often?” “She’s very accident prone,” Maggie said in a sweet voice behind him. “Some would say, she needs a good knight in shining armor.” Dead. I was going to kill her. “Is that so?” Zane’s eyes twinkled a bit before he pulled me to my feet and brushed a piece of sand from my cheek. “I see that your glasses are intact this time.” “Not your first run-in, I presume?” Alec asked, his talking voice was just as deep as his singing voice. It had a type of rasp that had me blinking at him in a trance before I opened my mouth to speak. “Yesterday. Dog shit. Trash cans. Chapstick.” Zane grinned. “And basements. Did I leave anything out four eyes?” I gaped. “Did you just call me four eyes?”

“I was going to go with cupcake, I also had sweetie pie, buddy, and little slugger, but something about four eyes just feels right, don’t you think?” “It’s rude!” I clenched my fists. “Is this payback for giving you the wrong phone number?” Maggie gasped at the same time Demetri did. And then everyone burst out laughing while Zane held my gaze in an epic and very tense stare down, the type that I felt everywhere, like his eyes were laser beams. I suddenly felt naked. Stripped. Raw. I hated that I loved it. His eyes were dark, as though God had brushed kohl along his lash lines in order to make women everywhere both love and despise him. Long eyelashes, perfect skin, strong cheekbones, and a smile that caused many a woman to sin. But not me. Because of Maggie, I knew exactly the type of guy he was. He loved women. All kinds. All types. All ages. He really didn’t discriminate, and I didn’t want to be added to that list just because he thought I was amusing. “Dude, she gave you a fake number?” Demetri slapped him in the chest then bent over and laughed harder. “This day, right here. Hell, I’m going to make a plaque for this stone on the boardwalk, the day Zane Andrews is rejected. Epic.” Alec bumped fists with Demetri while Maggie gave me a “have you lost your mind,” look. “You looked…hungry.” My eyes narrowed. “I practically saw ribs through that shining six pack of yours, figured you needed carbs.” His expression darkened like I’d offended him, which had to be impossible, he knew how goodlooking he was! Women everywhere chanted his name in every language known to humanity! His tag line was I’m Saint, wanna be saved? I almost rolled my eyes. Almost. But for the first time since…knowing him, which wasn’t at all a long time, he didn’t have a comeback. Instead, he shoved a shaky hand in his pocket like he was squeezing something and then took a deep breath. “Can’t a man get chapstick?” “The man needs to learn how to walk to the store.” “She’s right.” Demetri nodded. “You know, I’m glad we met you four eyes.” I growled, while he winked as if he was kidding. Goodness, did they all have to be so attractive? “We were just telling Zane this morning that he needed to get out more, and since you clearly live here…” His voice trailed off while Zane shot him a look that had me backing up into the wall again. “Whoa, there.” Alec grabbed me before I fell backwards. “You’re a walking hazard aren’t you?”

His tatted fingers were warm against my bare arms, I tried not to shiver. He was married, so was Demetri, but I’d have to be dead not to notice the way that Alec’s crystal blue eyes blinked down at me. “Sorry.” I stepped away. “It’s been a long day.” “A hard day.” Maggie stepped into the circle. “You know since her cat died and all.” “My cat?” I mouthed. “Oscar.” Maggie shook her head and wiped a fake tear. “Poor, poor Oscar, hit by that really fast sports car and no cat body to bury.” The guys looked caught, like they weren’t sure if they should comfort me or change the subject. They were probably wishing they would have taken a different way to wherever they were going. “I was just trying to figure out a way to cheer her up.” “By pushing me off the boardwalk?” I said through clenched teeth. “Silly, Fallon!” Maggie winked. “Oscar loved jumping off the boardwalk with you, remember?” No. No, I didn’t. Because I was allergic to cats. “Well,” Demetri said, grinning, “you’re in luck. We’re just taking a break from recording because dip shit can’t seem to get anything right.” He pointed to Zane. “We have a two-hour break before we need him back. Just be sure he makes it in one piece, and don’t let him steal your V card, and we’ll be good.” “She’s not a virgin. But thanks, dude.” Maggie gave him a thumbs-up while I blushed twenty shades of red and covered my face with my hands. This morning I woke up normal. Boring. Now? Cat owner and sex addict extraordinaire. I was going to murder my friend. “Oh good, no worries then.” Demetri saluted us. “Play nice, Zane.” Zane opened his mouth, probably to argue, but Alec’s expression said it all. “Look.” Alec sighed. “You need to find some damn inspiration, man. Whatever the hell just went down is clearly a symptom from you holing up inside the house for the last two months.” He sized me up. “Maybe she can be your new muse. God knows you need one, or Jaymeson’s going to kick all our asses.” Alec and Demetri left. Maggie coughed into her hand. “Oh sorry, Dad’s texting, gotta run, you know how he gets when I don’t answer!” She waved and then skipped away. Her dad was basically the most lenient parent I’d ever met. He was probably calling her to make sure she was alive. That was it. Literally, his texts said, Are you breathing? And she replied back with a yes. And they went on their merry way.

“So, four eyes.” Zane turned the full force of his gorgeous gaze in my direction. “You ready to inspire me?” “You must be desperate.” “I’m always desperate for inspiration of the female variety.” “I’m not one of those girls.” “The female kind?” “The stupid kind,” I clarified, forcing a smile. “The ones who would do anything for your attention. You’re hot, but I don’t even know you. For all I know, you could be one of those crazy murderers! You know, the ones that are really good looking, lure girls into their crazy mansions, and then kill them because they’re bored with their lives.” He blinked then frowned. “Holy shit woman, what kind of TV do you watch?” “Don’t change the subject.” I shoved my finger into his chest. “I’m just…I’m a lady.” Thanks, Grandma. Thank you very much for ingraining that into my head so fervently every day that I just quoted you to one of the hottest superstars on the planet. Real nice. Good. Great. Fantastic. I’m a lady? “Yes.” Zane’s lips twitched with a smile before he grabbed my hand and kissed the top of it. “And thus, I shall treat you so.” “Did you just British accent me?” “Depends.” He offered a casual shrug. ”Did it work?” “Stop it!” “What?” “No!” I grinned as a laugh escaped. “That’s unfair.” We walked a few feet before he pulled out his keys and whispered. “Your carriage, fair maiden.” He was driving a big white truck. I loved trucks. Truck meant safe. A truck told me he was trying to fit in, at least a little bit. “I’m going to need a list of weaknesses in alphabetical order starting with foods. Go.” “What?” I couldn’t keep up. “What are we talking about?” Thank God, at least the British accent was gone. Zane pulled open the door. I was getting kidnapped. Then again, I was willing. Did this stuff really happen? Apparently it did. Because I found my stupid self getting into the truck. And this, ladies and gentlemen, was how Ted Bundy did it. Charm, wit, and a killer smile. And yet. I was still in the truck as he leaned against it and smirked. “I don’t like the word no. It’s short, clipped, and completely negative in its effect on the world. Therefore, I need to know what your

weaknesses are so I can use them against you. Favorite foods, drinks, songs you sing in the shower, places to go, things to see. TV shows—do you prefer Friends or Big Bang Theory. If I was a superhero, which one would you want me to be?” I shook my head. “Do you ever…pause? Stop? Take a time-out? And why do you need to know these things?” “Because,” he said, pulling back, “I think they’re right. I’m not finding inspiration in the house. Therefore. I’m bringing you to the house.” “To kill me.” “To ravish you, my lady.” “Oh good, the accent’s back again,” I said as much to myself as to him. He lifted one shoulder. “It felt right again.” I sighed. “You’re taking me back to your cave and expect the fact that another female body in your presence is going to make you spew out words about love and devotion?” He angled his head and seemed to think about it and then nodded. “By jolly, I think you’ve got it!” “Are we a Scotsman now?” “Eh, harder accent.” He grinned. “I’ll take you to the house for two hours, and in return, I’ll do you a favor.” “A favor for a favor.” I tossed the idea around in my head. “What about a rain check for a favor?” “That works too.” “Do we shake on it?” “No, we kiss. We always kiss. That’s how these things work between boys and girls, four eyes. Just like you always circle yes.” “Circle yes?” “When I ask you if you want to skate with me then be more than friends.” He grinned. “Or when I ask to hold your hand then share your Mountain Dew, you always say yes.” “Because no is a bad word?” “The worst,” he agreed with a solemn nod. “You’re a dangerous man, aren’t you?” His eyes did that shutter thing, like a layer of his true self peeled back before he looked down at the ground. “We all have our secrets, don’t we?” “Yeah.” I stared at him blankly before putting on my seatbelt and fully committing to the insanity that was my day. “We do.” He moved to the other side of the truck then started it. “But first, we mallow.” “Mallow?” “Don’t ask questions, four eyes, questions get you killed.” “Really quick, you aren’t on any drugs are you?”

“Marshmallows are my drug. That’s all you need to know. Everything else? All me.” “Lucky me.” “Right?” He winked and then we peeled out.

Chapter Five Zane SHE’D CAUGHT ME BY surprise by completely throwing me off my game, then pissed me off so horribly

that I seriously wanted to do physical damage, something—anything. Ribs. She said she’d seen ribs. Like I was hungry. And of course, because words had the power to bring back memories and with those memories feelings—I was transported, like I was living it all over again: the hollow feeling of being starved, the helplessness as she gave me more of her food since I was a growing boy. And the guilt, that while she tried to strengthen me, she grew weaker and weaker. “When you said marshmallows were your addiction, I thought you were exaggerating.” “Does this look like an exaggeration?” I pointed to the four grocery bags we’d just loaded up from the store and shrugged. “Besides, you never know if they’ll run out or if zombies take over the world. I mean what if the only food zombies can eat to return to their natural human state is marshmallows?” “Yes.” She nodded seriously. “What if?” “You’re mocking me.” “You’re making it painfully easy.” “How old are you, four eyes?” “Old enough to get the Friends reference, not old enough to drink.” “Twenty.” “Nineteen, actually, turning twenty next month.” “And you’re not in college because?” “I didn’t jump in the truck so you’d play twenty questions with me.” “No, you jumped in the truck because your cat died, remember?” “Yes, um, Olga.” “Oscar.” “That’s what I said.” “What color was he?” She nervously licked her lips and then narrowed her gaze like she was trying to remember. “He was an, um… orange calico, with a black nose.” What a little liar! It was too amusing to call her on it, so I played along. I took a right and headed toward the cliff that overlooked the bay. “How’d you get him?”

“You know…” She gripped the seat with her hands and grimaced. “I’m boring, let’s talk about you. Besides Ultron makes me sad.” Holy epic shit. It was so hard not to laugh. When was the last time someone made me actually laugh? Dani. She made me laugh. But she wasn’t mine, and I’d known it right away when I saw her with Linc, which meant she was off limits. Besides, she was a friend. And she needed a friend back. But Fallon? I might just adore my little four eyes more than I should. “Ultron made everyone sad. He was a killer,” I said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say Ultron was a killer…” She laughed nervously, still not getting the reference. “Iron Man created him for killing.” “What?” She blinked up at me. “Iron Man doesn’t have a cat.” “And neither do you.” “Yes, I do.” “You just called your dead cat Ultron.” “That’s not right…” She outwardly cringed. “Odwalla?” “That’s a drink. You’re actually getting worse at lying the more you talk.” “Oz.” “Oscar. Your fake dead cat’s name was Oscar. Ultron wanted to kill the Avengers, big difference.” How does she not know this? “I’ve never seen The Avengers.” I slammed on the brakes and gave her a look of complete and utter horror, “Get out of the truck.” Fallon grabbed the door handle and let out a little scream. “What’s wr-wrong with you?” I smirked and hit the gas pedal before she could open the door. “There was no one behind us, and even then we were going twenty-five. To answer your question yes, yes I was willing to get into a minor accident in order to visually express my utter shock and disappointment that you’ve never watched The Avengers.” She bit her bottom lip, causing it to go slightly white as all the blood left. “Well, I just don’t see what all the fuss is about. I mean they fight each other and save the world, and it always ends up the same.” “Valid point.” I pulled onto my street. “But the process, four eyes, is always different.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re going to explain it to me aren’t you?” “Lucky day, isn’t it?” “That’s not really how I would put it.” “The process”—I ignored her grumbling protest—“is the most important part, the storyline, the arc, if you will. You saying that The Avengers is the same as every other action movie is just like me saying that songs are all the same. They have notes that make music, and they all end.”

“That’s completely different.” “The same.” I winked. “The process, however, is different. Get it?” “I get that marshmallows have addled your brain. And somehow it’s seeped into the air, making it so that I’m just as crazy.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I got in a stranger ’s truck. My grandma taught me better than this.” “You kiss all strangers that way?” She gasped in horror as her cheeks took on an adorable red hue. “I did not kiss you, you kissed me!” “You liked it.” Fallon stiffened and adjusted her ugly as hell glasses before she reached for the handle of the door again, as if she was trying to melt her body against the side of the car so she could get away from me. Huh, that was a first. Had to admit, I didn’t really care for it. “I like cats too.” “And yet, you don’t have one, so by that comparison, I’d have to also draw the conclusion that you don’t have a boyfriend you kiss that way either.” “You have bad manners.” I barked out a laugh. “Sorry, I swear I’ll treat you like the lady you are.” She groaned and once again pushed the glasses up her nose. I put the truck in park and turned it off, then grabbed my stash of marshmallows and walked over to her side of the truck to open the door but she was already hopping out. And when I say hop, I was a bit nervous she was going to fall out of the truck and get a concussion. She wasn’t the most athletic girl I’d ever met, and she was short enough to need a booster seat. “What?” She crossed her arms protectively over her chest. I smiled, taking in her askew glasses and nervous lip biting. “Nothing.” “So, how long am I your prisoner?” “Three hours.” “You said two!” “I changed my mind.” “But,” She swallowed convulsively. “That’s kidnapping.” “Kidnapping would be tossing you over my shoulder while beating my chest and screaming ‘man take woman home!’” She wasn’t amused. “This,” I said as I led the way to the beach house, “is friends who kiss, driving to a house so they can kiss some more.” “Whoa!” She held up her hands. “Chill.” I winked. “Kidding. I won’t kiss you. Not unless you beg me, and even then I may hesitate on principle alone. After all, you are a lady.”

“I’m not living that one down anytime soon, am I?” “I was thinking of making wall art,” I said helpfully while she groaned and followed me into the house. “Wow.” She did a quick turn around and then slowly walked into the open kitchen and living room. “This is yours?” “Negative.” I quickly pulled off my shirt and tossed it onto the couch. “It’s Jaymeson’s.” My jeans were next, I kicked them to the side and lazily made my way over to my bedroom. “Oh!” Fallon turned, nearly slamming into me, her hands pressed against my chest and her head lowered. “You’re missing clothes.” “So it would seem.” “I’m not sleeping with you.” Her statement was made even more ridiculous by the fact that her brown glasses kept sliding down her nose. Clearly, I’d become desperate. I’d not only kissed a girl who probably had to take her cousin to prom, but by the all-around thickness of her glasses, I was fairly confident she was legally blind. “Pretty sure I didn’t ask.” “But—” “Why do people always assume nakedness means sex?” I asked aloud. “You literally just pulled off all of your clothes, and you have me alone in your house,” Fallon pointed out, still staring at me, watching me with enough peculiar interest that my body felt the need to strut as blood pumped and coursed through every available vein until I thought I was going to explode on the spot. “Clothes are stifling.” I swallowed the terror building up in my chest and tried to shake it off as my hands started to shake. “I’ll grab some sweat pants and then you can work.” “Work.” Her big blue eyes blinked up at me. “Work?” “You said that.” “It’s because you’re still naked. It’s throwing me off. Which is weird, because normally I stutter but with you…” “It’s the magic of marshmallows.” I winked, trying without much success to tame the anxiety coiling in my stomach. Meanwhile, her eyes were wandering. “Fallon.” I snapped my fingers. “Eyes up here.” “What?” She blushed bright red. “I’m sorry I just…” Her eyes darted back and forth like she was trying to focus on anything but me being naked. “If you stare at something long enough, you’ll get ideas you need to claim it, and the only way to stake the claim on some things, is a simple lick, so unless you’re going to follow through…” I sighed. “You should probably go wait on the couch, after all. Ladies should never tease, Fallon. And I am, above all else, a gentleman.”

“Y-yes.” She nodded. “I’m s-s-s-sorry.” Hell, and she’d been doing so well; now I had her stuttering again. I placed my hands on her shoulders and moved her aside then quickly went into my bedroom and grabbed a pair of Lululemon joggers, the guys always made fun of my obsession with Lulu, but their men’s section was almost as tempting as putting marshmallows in my cereal every morning. “Alright,” I popped my knuckles then walked back into the room and grabbed my guitar from its spot on the couch. “Time to get to know you…” “Why am I helping you again?” “Desperation on both our parts. You looked bored, lied about killing your cat Oscar, and most likely your friend thinks you need an adventure or she would have never pushed you off a five-foot ledge risking a broken ankle right as I was walking by.” I leaned in and murmured, “Or, you told her about the kiss, she saw an opportunity and took it.” I winked as I cupped her face with my left hand. “I wonder, which is it, hmm, four eyes?” Her spine straightened as she leaned away from my hand. “She’s obsessed with you, not me, and my guess is she’s vicariously living through me and would be extremely excited if I did a live periscope feed right now.” “Hmm, maybe later.” I nodded. “This right here is private. Deal?” A slow smile spread over her lips. “So this is it, then? Three hours with you and then…” “And then…” I tipped her chin. “You teach me how to make bad ass chapstick.” “A-alright.” “You only stutter when you’re nervous.” I strummed a few chords. “So let me make you a promise.” She gulped and nodded agreement. “I’ll try not to make you nervous…and I won’t attack you, strip naked without warning, or try to steal your virtue. I really just need help with this song…” It was as much honesty as she was going to get. I’d never actually kidnapped a person in hopes they would inspire me, but whatever. If it worked, then I was happy. Anything to chase the darkness away. And as much as people saw me with alcohol—I rarely drank it, if ever. Bad memories and alcohol never mixed. Hell, a bad life and alcohol didn’t mix, because alcohol was a poison, it lowered your inhibitions and caused you to remember, and my main goal in life— was to forget.

Chapter Six Fallon I WASN’T ENTIRELY SURE what a nervous breakdown looked like, but I did know crazy, and Zane fit the

bill. Who just walked into some stranger ’s house, a house that said stranger is letting you stay in and starts pulling off their clothes? And he didn’t have any sort of…underthings. I mentally shook my fist up at my grandma in heaven. She was the reason I used weird language. Always calling bras “braziers” and underwear “underthings”, as if the word panty was too brazen to say out loud. It literally took me five trips to the Victoria’s Secret in Portland to finally stutter out the word “bra.” And even then, I was so exhausted and embarrassed afterward that Mags was afraid I was going to pass out. Then again, she was probably hoping I would so she could call in some hot paramedics. She was good at that, using my social awkwardness to further her dating calendar. I shoved my glasses aside to rub my burning eyes then put them back on. It was no use; the glasses were so old that they were probably hindering my sight more than helping it. Maybe that was a good thing. I could make out Zane’s smile, but only enough to know he was smiling, I couldn’t see any dimples, and I refused to believe he didn’t have something caught in his teeth. In fact, by the time he’d come back with his sweats and was offering his whole spiel on why I should help him, I’d decided to give him a lazy eye, no teeth, and an unfortunate amount of boils on his person. Like ten. Covering the entirety of his face. Gout. Also another winner. So really, there was no need for me to stutter. “Why do you keep rubbing your eyes?” Zane asked getting dangerously close to my personal space. It was as if he wasn’t aware that human beings had boundaries, little comfortable safe zones that he was constantly poking with his nearness. I scooted back against the couch and sighed. “My glasses were beyond repair from yesterday, so I’m wearing my old ones.” “Those are yours?” He sounded amused. “What? Yes. Why?” “They look like something I’d find at a retirement home.”

I sighed. “In a donation box,” he added. “They’re tortoiseshell,” I said defensively. “Some might say they’re…vintage.” Zane coughed out a laugh. “Some being one. You. They aren’t vintage, they’re hideous. I feel itchy just looking at them.” I tried not to get offended. Tried and failed as I slumped a little further into the couch. Why did I get in the truck again? Oh, right, because my best friend hates me, and I have a cat to mourn. “The clock is ticking.” “Why aren’t you in college?” Sighing, I grabbed a pillow and covered my body protectively, I might be partially blind, but even I could see his bare chest just glistening in my direction. “My financial aid didn’t come through, so I have to wait until the spring.” “That sucks.” “Yup.” “So you’re stuck here…with me.” “Kidnapped, but yes.” He leaned forward; I could feel the heat from his body. “Can’t kidnap the willing, Fallon.” “You talk circles around me. Even if I had protested, you would have somehow convinced me the only way to save the earth would be to get in the truck.” He released a throaty chuckle. “Gotta admit, I’ve never actually had to go that far. Girls usually just hop on without invitation.” I hated that he was embarrassing me, making me turn red. Very funny, make fun of the stuttering girl with glasses who’s only sexual experience was her lab partner who now bats for the other team. I cringed. “What’s that look?” “What?” “That one.” He touched my face with his fingers. I flinched at the contact and retreated deeper against the sofa cushions, “You can’t just go around touching people and things.” “Yes, I can.” He touched me again. “See? It’s really easy.” “You’re exhausting.” “I’ve been told worse.” I shifted away from his massive presence, “You said you were desperate, so how is this conversation supposed to help?” “It’s making me feel better.” “Making fun of me is making you feel better?”

“When did I make fun of you?” Sighing, I stared down at the fuzzy pillow. “Never mind. So this song, what does it need to be about?” “What are all songs about?” He sounded bitter. “Love and shit.” I tensed a bit at his grating tone. Having only spent a short time with him, it was alarming how I could tell by just one tiny inflection of his voice that he was upset. No…not upset, angry. “So maybe you should just focus on the love part.” “Not the shit?” He gasped. “Really? Is that what girls want? And to think all this time I had it wrong.” “Grandma always said that love was inexplicable, that it was the type of feeling you couldn’t express with mere words. Love transcends even the most beautiful of poems and words.” Zane was quiet. Too quiet. Like I’d just bored him so much in the past ten seconds that he’d taken his own life or something quiet. “Does she also say ‘life is like a box of chocolates’?” Trying not to be offended, I stood. “Alright, I’m just going to go.” A warm hand gripped my wrist. “But your time isn’t up.” I jerked away. “I don’t even know you.” I stumbled away from him and meandered toward the door just as a few strings of music floated into the air, followed by the smoothest most jaw-dropping voice I’d ever heard in real life. “When you can’t explain what makes you hurt—what makes you think you can explain what makes you burn? Because that’s how I feel when I look at you…” I reached for the door, desperate to leave, because staying meant I would be vulnerable, and who was I kidding? He was a celebrity. I might as well be a puppy from the pound that he’d decided to adopt in order to make himself feel better. Me helping him was about him. Which seemed to be a trend. “I watch you go…I want to follow, pride drives a man insane, like your touch or when I kiss you in the rain.” A mental battle occurred in that moment. Did I embrace the fact that when I was eighty, I’d be able to tell all my cats about the moment that Zane “Saint” Andrews used me, the girl with the weird stutter and tortoiseshell glasses, as a muse? Or do I run, knowing that, his magnetism would only end up hurting me in the end? My decision to leave should have been easy. It wasn’t. And when I heard footsteps behind me, I hung my head in irritation. Zane’s hands went to my shoulders as he very slowly turned me to face him.

“Leaving so soon? We’re just getting started.” “I help you. Then we shake hands, and I go. Take it or leave it.” “What about me makes you want to run, Fallon?” Everything. “I hate running.” I sidestepped him, making sure to brush off his physical advances, and found a spot on the couch without running into the coffee table. “I like the second part. I think you need to slow down though, make it more romantic.” “Like this?” He sang again, this time, the song was slower, more methodical. The low notes spoke of pain, not love, not that I was a musical prodigy or anything, but something about the song was just…off. Like he was trying to sing about love. And instead was singing about loss. “Your face.” Zane stopped singing. The couch dipped as he came over and sat, then braced his hand over the back. “You look like you just swallowed a lemon. It’s a bad look.” “I…” I didn’t want to offend him. Then again, he’d been doing nothing but offend me since we’d met. “Okay, d-don’t take this p-personal.” “Stop being nervous.” “E-easier said than done.” I regained control of my thoughts and tried not to force the words. Geez, I’d been on a roll too! “It just, i-it s-s-seems…” “Fallon.” Zane laid his hand on my arm. “I won’t get mad. I swear.” I exhaled and counted silently to myself then took a deep breath. “It’s sad. You’re singing about love, and it makes me want to cry.” “Love is sad.” He said in a gravelly voice. “Love isn’t sad. I mean, not all love.” Even though I could barely make out his face since my eyes were straining too much with the large glasses, I could tell he was pissed. He wasn’t smiling, and Zane was always smiling. With a curse, he got up from the couch. He returned with an entire bag of marshmallows and started stuffing his face like he hadn’t eaten in years. “Sorry.” “Don’t be.” Another marshmallow found its way into his mouth. He chewed and then clicked his tongue. “So, got a boyfriend?” “Yes.” He stopped chewing. “Seriously?” “Is that so hard to believe?” “That you got a boyfriend between today and yesterday, yes. It is.” “I could have had one yesterday.”

“You wouldn’t have been so eager to stick your tongue down my throat had you had someone waiting on the side.” He offered me a marshmallow, and this time, I took it. At least it gave me something to do with my hands and my mouth. “Maybe I fell in love, maybe I’ve been pining over someone from high school for the past four years, and he just now finally noticed me and declared we were going to get married.” Yeah, I’d probably just taken it too far. “What does your grandma say about getting married at nineteen?” “She’s dead.” He froze, marshmallow in mid-air. “Sorry, I didn’t realize.” “You didn’t ask.” “Is there a difference?” I shrugged and chewed off another piece of the marshmallow while Zane watched. Finally, I huffed out, “What now?” “You’re eating it wrong.” “There’s a wrong way to eat a marshmallow?” He nodded. “And let me guess, I’m doing it?” Another nod. “Why don’t we focus on your song?” “The way you’re eating makes me itch, and not in a good way, not in an ‘oh, baby right there way,’ but in a way that makes me concerned I’m going to develop a rash solely based on stress and the way you’re taking small bites of a food that by all means should be eaten whole.” My stomach recoiled. “Whole?” “Watch.” He popped one in his mouth and lifted up his hands. “Easy.” “I can’t believe we’re having an argument over marshmallows.” “Fallon…” Zane leaned in, his breath caressing my face. “Is this our first lovers’ quarrel?” I pressed my hand against his face and shoved him out of the way, he laughed, while I tried to tell my body to calm down, hoping like hell he couldn’t tell how deeply he was affecting me. “There.” I popped the marshmallow into my mouth and chewed, nearly choking since he’d gotten the large campfire ones. Once I swallowed a bit, I faced him. “Now, let’s work on your love song because I have things to do.” “Name one.” Why hadn’t I been blessed with the ability to lie? “I…” Mags was going to kill me. “I have a date.” His eyebrows shot up. “Oh?” “What? Is that so hard to believe?”

He eyed me up and down, a smile curving around his lips. “Yes and no.” I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted or just curious. His smile was wide. He stood, grabbed his guitar again, and sighed. “Maybe I just need some inspiration.” Wide-eyed panic was my only response. Naturally, it made him laugh. “Not that kind.” He turned on the TV. And that was how I found myself watching How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days, with one of the hottest stars on the planet. With a bowl of marshmallows separating our thighs. When the movie was over, so was my time. I quickly stood and bolted for the door. It wasn’t fair that I couldn’t enjoy my time with him, but it was a mirage, completely fabricated in order to help him and throw me off my rocker. Oh, Grandma. Ugh. “This time tomorrow?” Zane called. “Bye!” I called back. “How are you getting home?” He asked from behind me. I froze, cursing myself. “I um, was going to call a cab.” “Bullshit.” He grabbed a hat, not a shirt, but a hat, and then pulled out his keys. “I’ll drive you.” “That’s really not—” “—necessary?” He shrugged. “It is. After all, you inspired me today. Granted, it didn’t exactly go as planned, but it worked out, better.” His smile grew. “Different, but good, you know?” Curiosity was basically pumping off my body in waves. “Oh yeah?” “Yup.” “How’s that?” I asked as nonchalant as I could. He shrugged. “You were my friend.” “We spent just as much time insulting each other as we did breathing.” “You kept track?” Disappointment colored his voice. “And yes, a friend. Which I’ll have you know, is also a type of love, brotherly love. But since you’re a chick, I’ll just call you my sister.” God hated me. That was what I took from this entire conversation with Zane. That somehow, I’d done something wrong, and God was pouring out His wrath. Because not only was I stuck with one of the hottest guys in the world—but he’d just referred to me as his sister. How do you even recover from that? It’s not even close to the friend zone! “Great,” I managed to choke out. “Which means I probably shouldn’t kiss you anymore. Sorry.” “Apology accepted.”

“So where to?” I gave him directions to my parents’ house on the other side of town. It was nice enough, a middleclass two-story beach house with blue and white paint that had seen better days. “Cool,” he said as we pulled up in front. Then he nodded and turned off the truck. “Whoa.” I held out my hand. “What are you doing?” “Meeting your parents.” “The hell you are!” “Aw, did you just curse?” He chuckled darkly. “And why not? We’re practically family now.” “How did this happen?” I asked the universe. “This is why you don’t lie about dead cats!” “Quick, what’s his name?” “Otto!” I blurted while Zane laughed harder. “And you aren’t meeting my parents!” “Tomorrow night then?” “NO!” Frustration welled up inside me. “You can’t just march into strangers’ lives and force them to be friends with you. It’s not fair.” “Life is hardly fair.” I let out a pitiful groan. “Zane, no more joking, no more laughter. Why? Why are you doing this? I’m sure you have plenty of people to bother, a family to annoy.” I drew a breath. “A girlfriend to kiss.” His face sobered or what I saw of it. And suddenly he was putting his seatbelt back on, as if I was the one rejecting him, which was crazy! “Yeah.” He licked his lips and glanced out the window. “Have a good night, Fallon.” Guilt stabbed me square in the chest. He looked like a kicked puppy. And I was more dog girl than cat anyway, which was how I found myself reaching for his hand and saying, “Fine. Come inside. But ten minutes, and only ten minutes.” He grinned wide. “Let’s set a timer shall we?”

Chapter Seven Zane DON’T ASK ME WHY I did it. I’d probably lie to you just like I was lying to myself. I didn’t want to go

back to the house. It was lonely. And I honestly hated being there when it was empty. Typically, I at least had one person stumbling around, but now that Linc was shacking up with Dani I didn’t really have anyone. She loved helping him on set. Amongst other things. And Jay was busting his ass making sure they all stayed on schedule for production. I had a date with a pizza carton. That was my future. Half was loneliness, the other half was curiosity, what type of family did this odd girl come from? My little four eyes. She probably thought I was insulting her, when really, it was the exact opposite, almost like the type of name-calling you do on the playground, where rocks are reserved for the cute girls and all that shit. “Don’t ask questions!” Fallon smacked my arm as though we’d known each other for years. I liked it. Damn it. “And just, when my dad starts talking about hunting, nod your head and don’t make eye contact with the deer.” “The deer?” I asked just as she opened the door and nearly collided with both of her parents. They had frozen smiles on their faces. Her dad was the first to stretch out his hand. His grip was firm, his smile friendly. And from his camo pants to his dark brown shirt, and even up to his tortoiseshell horn-rimmed glasses, he just looked…nice. “Fallon! Who’s this?” Still smiling, her dad released my hand then patted me so hard on the back that I nearly choked on my tongue. “Good strong man! Say, do you hunt?” “I’ve never tried it,” I answered honestly while he steered me away from Fallon and her mom. Her mom seemed sweet, quiet but sweet. She was wearing an apron with a bear on it and had flour all over her face. “Mom!” Fallon hissed. “Save him!” “Oh, honey.” Her mom’s voice floated toward me. “He’ll either scare away or endure.” What a promising future I had! “Now, this one was a little son of a gun, hid right underneath the bush until I could finally scare

him out into the open.” A stuffed raccoon stared back at me. I could only imagine the poor animal was shot in duress if his expression was any hint. He gave new meaning to deer in headlights, more like coon in corner. “Wow.” I nodded encouragingly and held out my hands. “He’s big.” “Biggest coon I’ve ever trapped!” Another numbing back pat. “You must love hunting.” It was all I had, not that I didn’t appreciate the sport, you know, as long as people ate the meat and were humane, but he took his hobby to an entirely different level. Shelves were filled with pictures of hunting right along with at least ten stuffed animal heads that faced the wall right when you walked in to the expansive living room. “Yeah.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “The women get fussy over it.” “I bet. What, with you being in danger all the time.” Laying it on a bit thick there, Zane. His eyes widened. “Exactly!” He slapped me on the back again, hard enough this time that I felt the need to run my tongue over my teeth to make sure none had been accidently knocked out. He barked out a laugh. “Well that, and one time I made the mistake of shooting a deer after Fallon saw Bambi for the first time.” I burst out laughing. He joined in just as the girls walked in. “Something funny?” Fallon asked, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. “Your dad shot Bambi,” I pointed out, then turned to her dad. “How long did she cry?” “Days,” her mom interrupted and took a step toward us. “Sorry for not shaking your hand, but I was trying to cook.” I shook her hand. “And were you successful?” “No.” She rolled her eyes. “I burned the chicken. Again.” “She burns things if I’m not home.” Fallon shared a smile with her mom before I narrowed my eyes in on her. Home? Didn’t she have a date? “Too bad about your date tonight then, huh Fallon?” Her jaw clenched. “Er, yes.” “Date!” Her mom screamed while her dad ran out of the room and returned with a shotgun. I held up my hands, unsure of how to proceed. “Where is that son of a bitch!” I’d never actually seen anyone load a shotgun, let alone, pull back the hammer like we were in the Wild West and in need of a buffalo to shoot. I kept my hands mid-air. “He’s uh…” Fallon’s eyes widened in my direction, and a plea of silent desperation filled the space between us. “He’s uh.” I finally lowered my hands and crossed my arms. “Right here.”

Her dad pointed the gun while her mom let out a little gasp and shouted. “Bill!” “What?” Her dad waved the gun near my face. If it misfired, I was going to have a lot of explaining to do to the studio execs who wanted a new album by the end of the month. “I ain’t gonna injure him!” “Dad…” Fallon’s smile looked pained. “It’s not really a date, I mean he’s famous, it’s more of one of those things you do for—” “—Charity.” I cut her off. “We’re raising money.” “For?” Her dad’s eyes narrowed. “Seals.” I nodded emphatically. “One of them has a hurt fin and only swims in circles.” I demonstrated with my hand. “At any rate, we’re helping Seaside raise funds to bring in more experienced vets from Sea World.” Bill looked extremely convinced as he lowered the gun and shrugged. “From Sea World you say?” “Didn’t a whale recently kill a trainer there?” Fallon’s mom whispered then covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, those poor trainers, to live in such conditions.” “Palm trees and hot weather are definite hardships,” Fallon muttered. “So it’s not a real date.” Her dad looked between the two of us, I was tempted to raise my hands again and offer to let him pat me down. As it was, I itched to do a little circle so he could inspect me. “No,” Fallon said. “Yes,” I mumbled at the same time. He frowned. “Which is it? No romance, right? Because Fallon isn’t allowed to date until she’s finished college.” I laughed, assuming he was joking. He didn’t. Her mom even scrunched up her nose and looked away. “Okay.” I exhaled. “I won’t touch her. I swear. Besides, it wouldn’t just look bad for the charity but the seals, if I tainted her with my—” “—Parts.” Fallon shouted while her mom covered her face with her hands and then bumped into the chair. “I think…” Her mom’s face grew redder by the second. “I’ll just order pizza.” “Good idea.” Fallon tried to escape, but I grabbed her by the shirt and kept her in place while her dad continued to question us like we’d just committed murder. “You’ll have her back by eleven?” “You have my word.” I put my hand over my heart. “Good, then.” He nodded. “Alright.” I didn’t move. “Well, get on then.” He flashed a smile then frowned as his eyes fell to the rip in my jeans. “It’s a

good thing you two are doing. I’ve been telling Fallon she needs to find a hobby rather than mope around waiting to go to school. Working at that big resort as a maid isn’t enough to keep her interest, not a smart girl like Fallon.” “Right.” Well, that was interesting. A maid? At the resort? I pushed what I hoped was a congenial smile onto my face. “It was nice meeting you.” He held out his gun first and then his hand. I think it was purposeful. I matched his grip then ushered Fallon outside, careful not to say anything until we were back in the truck. “I’ve known you less than forty-eight hours, and you’ve lied twice.” “I did have a date.” Fallon crossed her arms. “With Mags.” “Uh-huh.” I started the truck. “And was she aware of this date?” “Not yet.” “Lie.” “Fine!” She threw up her hands. “I lied, but you were making fun of the fact that I d-didn’t have a boyfriend and—” “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I shook my head. “I wasn’t making fun. I was teasing. There’s a huge difference. Making fun means I’m trying to make you feel bad about yourself, teasing is what you do when you want to embarrass someone. Huge difference.” “And yet both feel bad!” “You need more sugar.” “Huh?” “It will help with all your nervous energy.” “I’m not engaging with you.” “So, a maid huh?” She let out a pitiful groan. “This is why you don’t kiss strangers.” “No, you don’t kiss strangers because they may just kiss you back.” “And then you’re stuck with them.” “Like syphilis.” I nodded thoughtfully, itching to reach across the consul and grab her thigh, because I was an idiot like that, and for some reason touching her seemed like a really solid plan even though her father had a gun. “You can cure Syphilis.” She pointed out, shoving her glasses further up her nose. I ached in places no man should ache over something so simple, so ridiculous. “Or does it just lay dormant in your system?” “Here.” She pointed to a small restaurant on the corner with a crab sign. “This is fine.” “Crabby Shack? You’re kidding, right?” “Hey, they give out bibs!” “Because that was my first thought this morning, damn, why can’t a man find a decent bib around

here?” “You’re paying,” she announced, slamming the car door behind her.

Chapter Eight Fallon MY HANDS WERE SHAKING.

And I was sweating. There was nothing attractive about the fact that I was barely able to keep the trembling out of my voice, meaning everything I said came out harsher than I wanted it to. Did he have any idea how difficult it was to just be around him and try to act normal? To focus so desperately on my speech, on the formation of every single word just so I wouldn’t stutter as much? “Holy shit.” Zane’s breath hit the back of my neck causing warmth to spread down my arms. “Is that crab real?” I smirked at the giant, glass fish tank at the front of the restaurant. “You mean Helga?” He whistled. “You know what they say about names. If you name something, that means you have to keep it.” A flash of emotion came and went, making me more curious than I needed to be. Because it was Zane Andrews. He acted like it didn’t matter. But it did. And anyone with two eyes could see that he was just used to the world giving him things. “Table for two,” Zane said in that commanding scratchy voice that had my knees knocking together. It wasn’t a first date, because it wasn’t really a date. Honestly, I’d never dated because in Seaside, everyone kind of just hung out with everyone else. Everything was done in groups, one-on-one felt awkward. Except right now, it felt…exciting. Even if it was for the imaginary seals. “That was some quick thinking back there.” I grabbed my napkin and folded it across my lap. Zane shrugged. “Probably because it wasn’t a lie.” My mouth dropped open. “You’re really saving seals?” “What’s that?” “Huh?” “That expression on your face. You’d think I just told you I prevented a meteor from hitting the planet.” I shifted in my seat. “I just didn’t expect you to care.” “Ah,” Zane reached for the sugar packets and flipped every single one of them around, like he was annoyed they were facing him. With barely a pause, he started in on his silverware, tossing it one way

then the other. Finally, I placed my hand on the metal and shook my head. He almost looked startled when he glanced up. “What?” “Are you sure you don’t do drugs?” Hands shaking, he managed to get one of them free and reach into his pocket long enough to pull out two smaller marshmallows, popping them in his mouth. I shook my head. “Let me guess, travel size?” He smirked. “You’re catching on.” “A terrifying thought.” “Or the best one you’ve ever had?” “Nope.” “Worth a shot.” He swallowed, and the motion drew my eyes to his perfectly sculpted neck and shoulders. Why was he so pretty? His nose piercing caught the light and flashed like a camera in my direction. A good reminder. His life was flashy. Mine was not. “I’m not dropping this whole scenario about being the best you’ve ever had, so you may as well tell me the story…besides, by your body language, I’m assuming I’m not going to get many more dates.” I snorted. “That’s highly doubtful.” “Take off your glasses.” “Huh?” He reached for my glasses and slid them off, setting them on the table with more care than I thought him capable of. “There, that’s better. I want to see your eyes.” “But I can’t even focus on you!” “Your eyes are huge.” Shame washed over me as I reached for my glasses but his hand covered mine, holding it against the table. “It was a compliment.” “Oh.” My shoulders refused to perk back up as I slumped farther in my seat, my eyes focusing on the white table cloth, which was the only thing I could make out, and even that was so blurry the table kind of looked like a giant marshmallow. “So, you’re a maid for the resort in town?” I nodded, relaxing as I leaned back in my chair. “It was a summer job. They usually let me go during the down season, but since I wanted to save some extra money, they let me stay on until I go to

college.” “How much do you work?” “Ten hours a week. It isn’t a lot, but it’s hard to get jobs here.” “I want to hear about the worst room you’ve ever cleaned.” He laughed, I couldn’t tell if he was still smiling because I literally couldn’t see his face, just a blur where it should be. Oddly enough, that set me more at ease. “Well…” I thought about it, and a couple came to mind. “There was one room that had used condoms all over the floor, and when I say all over I mean, they were everywhere, like an orgy had taken place.” “Were a lot of people staying in the room?” “No.” I laughed at the memory, “It was an elderly couple. They’d been married over forty years and were celebrating their anniversary.” “Go Gramps.” Zane nodded his appreciation then crossed his muscular arms. “Yes.” I cringed at the mental picture. “It was a rough two nights, let’s just put it that way.” “I don’t use condoms,” Zane announced in a low voice. I rolled my eyes. “Why does that not surprise me? The great Zane Andrews doesn’t practice safe sex, some Saint you are.” “There you go making assumptions about my character again.” “What other assumption is there to make? You just said you don’t use condoms.” He was quiet and then whispered, “I don’t.” “So you have unprotected sex.” “I didn’t say that either.” “But—” “Yes, we’ll have two Helgas.” Zane said in an authoritative voice, just as I registered a presence hovering near my left elbow. “And a milk for my little sister.” I kicked him under the table. He bit out a curse. With a whisper of fabric, the waitress left, or must have left, since I still couldn’t see much. At least I no longer felt someone standing there. “Did she hear the entire conversation?” I asked quietly, somewhat mortified. “Only the good parts.” Zane laughed. “So, what did you do with the used condoms?” “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.” “Why wouldn’t we talk about this?” “It’s a date.” “People don’t talk about used condoms on dates? Damn it, I’ve been doing it all wrong!” I fought the losing battle with a smile. “You should do that more often,” he said softly. “Smile. You know, the world isn’t out to get you.”

“Just you.” “What was that?” “Just you.” I said, this time, louder. “I don’t want to get comfortable with you.” “Because I’m Satan?” I laughed and tried reaching for my water. “A little to the left.” “Thanks.” My fingers fumbled with the glass as I lifted it to my lips, nearly spilling ice all the way down my shirt. “So close.” Zane whistled. “I’ve always wanted to go on a date where the girl just magically splashes herself with a glass of water in hopes to lure me into her bed.” “Not luring,” I corrected. “Just blind, can I have my glasses back yet?” “Nope.” His laugh was deep, wicked. Why? Why was this happening to me? Why was he happening to me? I released a sigh. “Why can’t you get comfortable with me? What’s so bad about making new friends?” I thought about it. The answer was as complicated as it was simple. After a moment, I whispered, “Friends leave.” “Aw, are you saying you’re going to miss me, four eyes?” I groaned. “If I say yes, will you save me the heartache and just break things off now? Let me down easy and move on to your next victim?” “So I’m a predator now?” The movement of him leaning his arms against the table had me sighing in part agony part bliss. I was too blind to see those muscles stretching, but I knew they were all the same. “Fine, you’re not a predator.” “Thank you…” His soft laughter sounded oddly victorious. “Want a sucker?” “Luring me with candy Mr. Non-predator?” “Nah, just testing your will power.” “I’ve got a lot of it.” “Me too,” he whispered, and I still couldn’t make out his face, dang it! But he seemed… sad about it? Which made absolutely no sense. None at all. Food was set in front of me, and the heavenly aroma of crab wafted into the air. I reached for the mallet, but Zane grabbed it and shook his head. “I think you should let the man handle the weapons.” With a frustrated groan, I slumped forward. “You’re really controlling and condescending.” “Funny, Jaymeson says that all the time.” A loud crack and then his fingers were literally touching my lips. “Open up.” I did, mainly because I was so shocked he was feeding me that it was either open my mouth or get

crab on my chin. Of course Zane wouldn’t do things the easy way, he didn’t just feed me then pat me on the head, his fingers lingered on my lower lip before he brushed them with his thumb and pulled back, whispering, “How’s Helga?” “Helga’s…good.” Voice raspy, I reached for my water again. The back of my hand met the glass, cool and slick with condensation. As I pulled back to try again, the glass tumbled sideways, ice clinking against the sides as it fell over. Zane let out a curse and stood. Wincing, I closed my eyes. “I just dumped water on your lap didn’t I?” “My fault.” Zane laughed, wiping his front with a napkin. “Helga had me all overheated anyway.” “Crabs get you hot?” My breath backed up in my lungs. Too far? Did I just really say that? “It was ten percent crab, ninety percent the little sound you make when eating.” “I do not!” My cheeks heated. “Mmmm,” Zane groaned. “Oh there, right there.” “Zane! Stop it! People are staring!” “You can’t see!” He laughed and then let out another loud moan as he slammed his hands onto the table. “Right. There.” The louder he got, the more I slumped into my chair, at one point, just giving up and covering my head with my napkin while he basically took advantage of the table and chair. “So. Close.” From underneath my napkin, I noticed his hands grip the table and give it a little shake before he fell back against his chair and let out a “Shit…that was good.” A few seconds went by. And then Zane was pulling my napkin off and shoving my glasses back onto my face, wearing a Cheshire Cat style grin and looking way too pleased with himself. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?” “You’re insane.” “Probably.” “People are still staring.” “Yup.” “I don’t like staring people.” “Well…” He crouched down in front of me. “They’re probably trying to figure out how you got me to orgasm with a napkin covering your head.” His lips curved up into a delicious smile. “Magic? Or are you just that good in bed?” I straightened, ignoring my heated face. “Maybe I’m just that good in bed, ever thought of that?” He sobered, his perfect smile temporarily breaking before he recovered and shrugged. “Now I

will.” “Great,” I grumbled. “Just what I need.” “Hey…” He returned to his seat and started snapping the crab legs, tossing meat onto my plate every few minutes—and refusing to let me grab the mallet, pushing it farther out of my reach until I’d have to actually walk around the table to grab it. “What’s so bad about our newfound friendship?” “You orgasm with all your friends?” What were these words? The brave ones coming from my mouth? Maybe it was him, I couldn’t help but be confident because as a whole he was completely ridiculous, too confident, too arrogant for his own good. And the whole situation was something that didn’t happen to real people, so my responses always felt like, I don’t know, like I was in a dream, or drunk. Ugh. “Only the ones I like.” he said with a simple shrug, that dangerous smile locking onto me again and refusing to let go. “Besides, I figure we’re good for each other.” “How so?” “Well, clearly your life is boring without me. You’re in desperate need of a makeover before you head off to school—that is, if you ever want to attract attention of the male variety…” I gasped. “Don’t even get me started on your glasses.” I stood, ready to leave. “Sit.” I didn’t want to. But his eyes were pleading, like a puppy, I’d always wanted a pet growing up, but my dad quite literally shot them all, even my pet bunny. He served it for dinner. I wondered if it was a bad time to tell Zane I was a vegetarian, only eating seafood out of necessity. “What’s your point? Are you going to take me out on a pity date? Get some good publicity? What’s your angle? What do you get out of our friendship?” “Okay.” Zane broke eye contact, not something he did often. “You want the truth?” “Please.” I braced myself for impact. “I’m lonely.” I burst out laughing. He didn’t. My eyes narrowed. Could he be telling the truth? “You live with friends.” “You know what?” He stood, his frown deepening. “You’re completely right. This is a bad idea. Being friends never works. We come from different worlds. I’m hot you’re…cute as hell when you aren’t wearing grandma glasses and tugging at your clothes like they itch.” Suddenly more self-conscious, I tugged at my t-shirt and glared.

As usual, he ignored me. “But it can’t end well. Right? So best to just let this be the first and last date, end on a handshake, and go our separate ways.” He held out his hand. I stared at it. Even his hands were pretty. Well, that was unfair. I took it in mine and squeezed. “Are you using reverse psychology?” “Two years,” Zane whispered. “I graduated summa cum laude. Psych major with a minor in family therapy.” “But—” “Is it working?” His smile was back. “So, you really just want a friend?” “I want a local friend. I want a friend who can take me to all the places that inspire her in Seaside. I need to finish this album, but I can’t…” He licked his lips. “I can’t do it alone, get it? And I have zero creativity at the house.” “What do you mean you can’t do it alone?” “I’m afraid of the dark.” “So go during the day.” “Four eyes…” he groaned. “I wish I could do it alone, but I can’t do it alone, literally can’t do it alone.” His hand was still in mine, it started to shake again as his eyes darted to all the people around us, the people watching us, his grip tightened as he moved closer to us. He looked terrified. Which is why the next word out of my mouth was. “Okay.”

Chapter Nine Zane THE MORNING LIGHT PIERCED through the curtains, dancing along my fingertips, its warmth reminding

me that it was a new day, and I’d made a really shitty life choice by inviting someone to share it with me. What the hell had I been thinking? I knew it was a bad idea the minute the offer left my lips. She was too perceptive by half—most of the people I knew, didn’t give a rat’s ass that I didn’t like crowds. They assumed it was a complete privacy thing. But that was the really unfortunate part about studying your own brain and human behavior—you realize that sometimes there is literally no explanation for why you go into fight or flight, or why for some reason, I can handle crowds if I’m distracted or with a friend, but have trouble going to the grocery store by myself. One meltdown. I’d had one meltdown at a concert last year. The record label wasn’t pleased. It wasn’t my fault everyone assumed it was drugs, the perfect storm of overheating, being dehydrated, and having a full-blown panic attack while the stage broke beneath my boots sending me careening into the crowd. The real sucky thing about being an artist? I take inspiration from the very thing that terrifies me —people. So, how the hell could I write good songs when I’m not around them? I couldn’t. I’d tried. For two months. And had about fifty renditions of Old Mc Donald, before I started trying to go for walks on the beach, all it took was one bad experience with a dog owner and a kite, and I was back in the house shaking. I stared up at the ceiling. Damn but the fan seemed to be staring right back, each time it whipped around and tossed air in my general direction I felt its words. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Miserable.

Miserable. Miserable. I’d been up for hours. Ready to start my day. Ready to write some music—because my fingers itched for it, my hands trembled with the need to deal with my anxiety, but I was blocked, blocked by the white ceiling and white walls, blocked by the inability to think outside the white suffocating box I was in. And unable to think past the fact that I was completely using a nice girl in order to further my career—something I’d never thought I would be guilty of. She was fun to hang out with, but not my type, not at all. She was too innocent, and although I wasn’t the sexual deviant she thought me, I wasn’t a saint either. Far freaking from it. She was this breath of fresh air. I was the darkness sucking it in. At least that was what it felt like. But, that was where my exercises came in. Just because it felt like the end of the world, didn’t mean the world was actually ending. I hopped out of bed and glanced out the window. The sun was just rising, and all looked right on the beach. See? World wasn’t ending. I snatched a few marshmallows from my nightstand and swallowed them nearly whole, my body finally relaxing enough for me to think clearly and stop assuming the worst about what type of day I was going to have. “Everything is fine,” I said out loud. “It’s going to be a good day. You’re going to get a shit ton accomplished.” I closed my eyes and did a few jumps in place then started walking out of my room. Naked. By now, the guys were just used to it and the girls well, they just assumed I liked people staring at me—which was so wrong it was almost laughable. I could do without the stares. But I was comfortable without clothes the same way people found comfort in wearing sweats. I just refused to explain why, God save me. I could just hear the girl’s sighs if I told them the real reason behind most of my behavior. There would be tears, pity sighs, and lots of hugging. It would be horrible. Like an actual nightmare coming to life. I wasn’t the type of guy who wanted a hug and a good cry—I would much rather have a dude punch me in the face and tell me to stop being a pussy. “Yo!” I wandered into the kitchen just in time for Jay to toss a newspaper.

“Cover your nuts,” he said calmly, “and I’ll allow you a cup of coffee.” “Oh, you’ll allow me?” He didn’t look, just poured a cup of coffee and held it out to me. “Are they covered?” “Yup.” I placed the newspaper over my dick with one hand. “Now hand it over.” “Have you thought about it?” “I know you’re a morning person, but I need more coffee, less words, it’s six a.m., Jay.” “And if I know you, which I’d like to think I do since I’ve known you for around five years now, you’ve been up since three-thirty staring at your ceiling followed by that little voodoo self-talk thing you do as you look out the window, telling yourself, ‘hey I’m going to go try to walk out in public today.’ And if my hearing is accurate, which I think it is, you jumped three times in the air, clapped, and walked out here. So don’t bullshit me about how it’s early.” “Hell, sometimes I hate you.” I rolled my eyes. “And there’s a difference between being awake and awake.” “You literally just said the same word twice,” Jay pointed out in a condescending tone. “I have to be on set in five minutes. You should stop by.” “So you can convince me to act?” “Yes.” Jay ran a hand through his long brown hair, shoving it to the side before grabbing his Ray Bans. “Look, you need a distraction, I’m a shit friend if I let you just sit in here with the curtains pulled.” “I’m not.” “The hell you’re not!” he yelled. “You won’t even go to the beach by yourself anymore!” It was getting worse. Did he think I was stupid? Of course, I saw all the signs, felt them, they choked me every freaking day. I didn’t need a reminder. Especially not from him. “I met someone.” “Oh hell, I don’t have time for this.” Jay shoved his sunglasses onto his face and dumped his remaining coffee into the sink, bracing his hands against the granite, his muscles tense. “We made a trade. I’m going to help her, she’s going to help me. I told her I couldn’t write my album alone, and she’s agreed to be like… a tour guide.” “A bloody tour guide?” Jay roared slamming his hands against the counter. “You need a therapist! Not a tour guide!” “Go to hell!” I roared. “What are you, my dad?” “No.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I’m not your dad, but if I was, I’d tell you to get your head out of your ass and get some help. I know you know it’s getting worse, you need to talk to someone, someone who knows how to help.” I shrugged. “Maybe.” “Are you taking your meds?”

I flipped him off and shoved past him. “Zane.” “Yes.” I grit my teeth. “But clearly, they aren’t helping if I can’t go for a run on the beach by myself.” “This girl…” Jay sighed. “Are you going to tell her?” “What’s there to tell?” I challenged, crossing my arms. “I told her I can’t do it alone, and she offered to help. I get Cinderella to the ball, and she makes it so I can finish my album on time. Everyone wins.” “Does she, though?” Jay just had to ask. “Some local girl with stars in her eyes?” “Trust me,” I grumbled. “There’s zero interest on both ends. She’s cute, but not my type, and I get the distinct impression that if it was between a science nerd and me, she’d do him in a heartbeat all the while wondering if I even know how to spell.” “You have a master ’s degree in—” I burst out laughing. “What? Should I flash my degrees?” “You worked hard for them.” Jay shrugged. “Not everyone can do school full time and tour.” “Yeah well, I’m also a marshmallow-addicted hermit.” “There is that,” Jay agreed with a flick of his hand. “Gee, thanks.” “Hey, you said it, not me. I was just thinking it, only in more crass terms, lots more swearing.” “You done?” “Ten minutes a day.” Jay pointed his finger at me. “Even dogs get walks.” I narrowed my eyes. “Did you just compare me to a bitch?” He grinned. “Don’t forget…you’re welcome on set anytime.” When hell freezes over. “I know.” Jay started to talk away and then paused before grabbing his keys and turning back around. “This girl, she isn’t like…” He did a weird thing with his hands in the air and then coughed. “The one?” “Whoa!” I matched his awkward hand motions. “There will be none of that.” “Because you’re afraid of girls?” “I threw many a rocks in my day.” “Hah.” Jay nodded. “Fine, fine, just, remember, she’s a mere mortal, you can’t run around naked pelting her with marshmallows and writing her love notes with a circle yes or no life decision, alright?” “Like I would ever confess my love in a note. I’m more of a sing-my-feelings sort of guy.” “I know this. So does the rest of America. Just tread carefully…sometimes the ones we think are the strongest are the most frail.” He eyed me up and down. “Case in point.” “Message received.”

“Good talk.” “Yup.” “Don’t give away your V card to a girl who won’t appreciate it, man.” “Dude.” I shook my head. “Too far. Go to work already so you can come home and make sweet love to Mom.” “Gross.” “Hey, you’re the one treating me like I’m your child.” “Bastard.” He chuckled as the door slammed behind him. I snatched my coffee off the bar and made my way back into the bedroom, my eyes locking in on my guitar and the stupid clothes I knew would have to accompany it if I didn’t want to get arrested while hanging out with Fallon. With resignation, I marched over to the clothes and pulled them on. It felt like my life, the way I put on clothes. I wanted to be secure. Naked. Myself. I put on clothes because my true self wasn’t accepted…not really. Because even though people screamed “Saint”—what they really wanted was a sinner. Sometimes I hated my life.

Chapter Ten Fallon YOU KNOW HOW DOCTORS always say never to do an internet search of your symptoms? I believed

them. I refused to Google anything. I’d always been cautious to a fault. Half nerd, half goody two-shoes. More focused on my grades than my hair or the fact that girls around me were wearing heels while I was still sporting chucks and vintage band T-shirts. So, the morning after seeing Zane, after agreeing to his asinine plan and walking home in a complete daze. I did the unthinkable. I typed in his name. Zane Andrews. My first mistake was assuming that it would be all about his music and his time in Seaside. Instead, there were so many pictures of the guy shirtless that I almost dropped my phone in my bowl of oatmeal, and about died on the spot when my dad snatched my phone instead of his off the table. And being an idiot, mine wasn’t password protected. So he got a huge eyeful of chest. And nearly collided with a wall in an attempt to get away from the kitchen and his daughter ’s dirty pictures. “What’s the plan for today?” Mom plopped down next to me and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Work and then home?” I squirmed in my seat. “Stop that,” she said without looking up from her own phone. “You always fidget when you’re nervous. Now, no lying.” Groaning, I pushed around a few raisins in my bowl. “I’m working the morning shift and then… hanging out with Zane.” My mom didn’t say anything. I chanced a look at her out of the corner of my eye. Her smile was frozen on her face. “Honey…” She set down her phone and touched my hand. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” I pushed my black glasses, the ones that had been fixed the day before, up my nose and sighed. “Mom, it’s not like that.”

“He’s a guy, a famous guy, and you’re just…” She tilted her head as if she couldn’t come up with one single word in the English vocabulary that would describe the enigma that was her daughter. “You.” “Is this where you actually do the opposite of parents worldwide and tell me not to act like myself?” “You don’t stutter around him.” “I don’t stutter around you guys either.” “All those years of speech therapy.” She sighed. “And look, it only happens when you get frustrated or nervous…but…” Then she frowned. “He doesn’t make you nervous, does he?” “Look.” I stood to put some space between us and the uncomfortable conversation. “I’m going to be late for work, I swear it’ll be fine. We’re friends. He’s not into me in that way, and I’m sure not into him in that way either. We’re from completely different planets.” Besides, guys like him, they just couldn’t help themselves. All females—males too—stared. It worked for him, but I wasn’t sure I would ever be comfortable with that type of attention. “Okay.” Mom nodded sagely and held out my phone. I tried grabbing it, but she didn’t let go. “Mom.” “He doesn’t do drugs does he?” “Mom.” I snapped grabbing my phone. “No, of course not!” “Has he touched you?” “I want to die right now. Why don’t you just run me over with the minivan?” “It’s in the shop.” She grinned then finally released my phone. “Just be careful with him. He has seductive eyes.” “Mom, eyes are eyes. His eyes are…normal I don’t even know what color they are.” I was lying. Everyone knew his eyes were blue, an icy blue that, according to one blog, felt like you were getting stripped naked and worshipped all at once. I shivered. “Uh huh.” Mom sipped her coffee and gave me a total look of disbelief. “Your dad knows the color of Zane’s eyes, and he’s partially blind like my offspring.” “Okay, first of all, that’s creepy. Second, I’m your daughter. Offspring sounds too medical.” “Honey,” “What.” I huffed, stuffing my beanie over my head and crossing my arms. “What is it?” “Sometimes…it’s okay to be reckless.” I hesitated, not sure how to respond because, it sounded like my mom just gave me the talk then ended it by handing me a beer and a condom. What had just happened? “I’m the opposite of reckless.” “Something tells me, he likes that.” “Bye, mom.”

I hopped on my bike and shoved my earbuds in as I made the two-mile trek over to the resort. So what if I was listening to his music? And had just recently purchased his last album on iTunes? And was obsessed with the duet he’d done with Gabe Hyde? The guy could sing. His last album sounded completely different from what he was writing or working on the day previous. And even though I tried, the images of his shirtless body invaded every stream of consciousness I had as I pumped my legs faster and faster. Paired with the taste of his lips on mine. And his fake orgasm the night before. Don’t even get me started on the fact that the song I was listening to was called Skin. By the time I made it to the hotel, I was sweating profusely, pieces of my hair stuck to my neck. I tugged off my beanie and pushed my glasses back up while I locked my bike and quickly ran into the office to clock in. “Fallon.” Jared was my manager, and he was creepy. As in, he seemed like the type of guy that used way too much hair gel and wasn’t aware that if you smiled too big all the time it wasn’t sexy, just disturbing, and alarming on so many levels. “Rough morning?” I grunted. It was my typical Jared response. And I wasn’t in the mood to make small talk, not with images of Zane still burned in my head. There had literally been nothing in any of the articles about his new album, just that he was working hard at it after a freak accident on stage last year. The YouTube video didn’t show much, there was lots of screaming, then the stage had collapsed, and he’d gone into the crowd face first. A crowd of over eighty thousand people. The caption read. “Pop star has nervous breakdown.” He was rocking back and forth, people tried to touch him, he screamed, I’d never seen anyone look so crazed in my entire life. The worst part was his voice. It wasn’t confident, smooth, controlled. It had been terrified, as if someone was trying to hurt him. I refused to watch the rest of the video. Because really, it wasn’t fair that all of his embarrassing and horrible moments were live for the world to see. If I wanted information I just typed in his name, if he wanted information on me, he had to ask. It seemed hardly fair. “So?” Mags grabbed my shoulder with her hand. “Spill!”

I glared. “You pushed me off a ledge!” She rolled her eyes. “Fallon, I say this because I love you, but if I had to push you in front of oncoming traffic, just to get Zane Andrews to notice you, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” “You’d kill me?” “A slow moving vehicle, you’d break a leg, hardly something to cry about.” “Are you hearing yourself?” She rubbed her hands together. “Tell me every single thing. Don’t leave out any details. Has he kissed you? Are his hands soft? Does he have a big—“ “—Dick?” A familiar male voice said from behind me. Mags’ eyes widened in horror. I hung my head. “He’s behind me isn’t he?” She nodded, gaping like a fish. Slowly, I turned. “Oh, hey.” “Casual.” He nodded. “I was curious if you were going to go for the whole casual approach or just turn red, and—oh wait, you’re doing that too.” He pointed while I let out a shaky breath. “Please don’t hold my friend’s sins against me. She’s medicated.” Mags snapped out of her stupor and shoved me aside. “She exaggerates.” “Hey, you can’t be in here!” Jared stomped toward us. He was so Portland, in his North Face jacket and khakis. “Employees only.” “She’s here.” Zane moved his finger from pointing at my face to pointing at Mags. Jared glared. “Sorry Maggie, you can’t be in here either. No exceptions.” “Don’t you have more gel to buy?” Mags said sweetly. His jaw clenched while Maggie sauntered toward him and then grabbed him by the elbow and led him away. “So…” Zane rubbed his hands together. “What first?” My head swiveled back so fast I’m impressed I didn’t get a kink. “What do you mean ‘what first?’ I have to work.” “I’m helping.” The grin was back full force, and it was directed at me. The heat of his stare was staggering in the way it made me want to both launch myself into his arms and then run for dear life. “You do realize I clean people’s hotel rooms?” He copied my stance. “You do realize I have two working hands?” “Alright then.” I grabbed the clipboard and slammed it against his chest. “I’ll grab the cart, and we’ll just go at it.” “Sounds dirty.” “Trust me.” I sighed. “It will be.” Just not the way he was probably used to.



Chapter Eleven Zane THREE HOURS OF FLUSHING toilets, and I was suddenly thankful she only had a five-hour shift this

morning. It wasn’t like I’d planned on going to work with her like a total loser. But I’d driven to the set, taken one look at all the extras, consumed at least a half bag of marshmallows, then found myself passing the resort. After a few questions at the front desk, I was directed to the back office where Fallon would be, and the rest was history. Well, sort of. I ‘d just stripped the bed when I heard her scream. My feet tangled in the sheets nearly sending me against the nightstand before I freed myself and ran into the other room. “What’s wrong?” Adrenaline spiked through my system as I sized up the situation. Fallon’s eyes were wide and then she did a little dance and washed her hands about five times before shuddering. I peeked around the corner of the table. Clinging to the wall like a giant deflated slug was a used condom. I smirked. “Tell me you touched it.” “With my bare hands!” She squealed. “I was picking up the chair, and something was stuck to it and —” She made a gagging noise. “Is that how it got on the wall?” “I kind of threw it once I realized what it was.” We both turned toward the wall where the used condom was currently slipping down to the floor. “You should probably pick that up.” I mused in a haughty voice. “I mean this is your job.” “Screw you! I’m not touching it again!” She shook her head. “Do you even realize how many used condoms I’ve been subject to?” “Hopefully none of them your own.” Her face flamed red. “Or no judgment if they were.” I held up my hands. “Here.” She shoved a roll of paper towels into my hand. “You want to help? Do the dirty work.” I pulled off about a billion paper towels and knelt. “Please tell me this isn’t another elderly couple.” “Honeymooners.” She called from somewhere in the large room. “Just toss it in the trash can.” “No. Really?” I retorted, “And here I was going to keep it as a trophy!” “Very funny.” Fallon walked back into the room while I tossed the condom in the trash. Her hair

was pulled up into a tight bun on the top of her head, her black glasses, looked way cuter on her than the monstrosity that had been hanging out on her face yesterday. In fact, if I was into nerds, she’d be a hot one, like the hot librarian all the kids stare at when they think she’s not looking. “What?” Fallon touched her face. “Is s-something wrong?” “You stutter when I stare at you.” I stared harder, mainly because I liked to stare at nice things, so what? Her face was interesting, completely free of makeup except for that damn chapstick and a bit of mascara. Hell, I probably wore more makeup performing than she’d ever worn in her entire life. “Zane?” Her Counting Crows gray shirt rose over her narrow hips, exposing some flesh. “What’s going on?” I took a step toward her. She backed up. I took another step. And her back hit the wall. “I lost my chapstick.” “Then you should go to the store.” She patted my chest. “Didn’t we just have this conversation a few days ago?” “You should make me some more.” “That wasn’t part of our deal.” “It should be.” She had nice lips. Fallon sucked at her teeth, biting into her plump bottom lip as it trembled under the pressure. I’d always been a lip guy. Most guys were all about the tits and ass. Not me. Lips. The mouth. As it formed words, inhaled, exhaled, the little pant girls tended to make when they were nervous, when I was too close, the exact sound she was making while I unabashedly stared her down. “You can’t just keep changing the terms of our agreement.” She murmured. “You have a pretty mouth.” I declared taking a step back. Because for a second, I was tempted to kiss her, my new friend, the only friend willing to take me around Seaside so I could actually get my ass back to work. “Sorry, I tend to fixate on objects.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “That’s, fine.” “I may write a song about it.” No chance in hell was I writing a song about her mouth because songs were emotional, a part of myself. Writing about something I wanted while being able to access it, well in my mind it was like a drug addict penning a song about cocaine, not the smartest move.

Music has a delicious way of making you want. And I was suddenly very aware that I wanted a repeat of the other day. The kiss. Our lips pressed together in a frenzy, the sliding of her bottom lip across my top as my tongue flicked away bits of chapstick. “Zane.” Fallon coughed. “You’re doing it again.” “Being weird?” I offered. “Yes.” “Sorry.” “So, let’s just…clean up in here and we can finish the last two rooms, sound good?” “Yup.” “Is this helping your creative process Mr. Hollywood?” I grabbed the trash bags and shrugged. “Not really, but I’m not by myself, so I guess that’s progress.” “What would you be doing right now if you weren’t here?” I hesitated, unsure if I should be honest or just laugh it off. “Zane…” Her voice was pleading, a bit unsure, but still pleading. And I hated lying to people when they were trying to be nice, human, good. “I would be trying to write music. With the shades down. Naked.” “Why naked?” “Nothing good ever happens while clothed.” I winked. But she didn’t buy it. And that was my second mistake. Giving her a truth followed by a lie. Because now she knew my tell. She knew what was fake and what was real. Which meant I was no longer in the position where I could afford to be the liar…Did I mention that sometimes I hate my life?

Chapter Twelve Fallon I TOOK HIM EVERYWHERE.

And like a pubescent child, he was demanding and sometimes whiny. I made a mental note to bring marshmallows and some sort of sugary soda to keep him occupied while driving in the car. “Money,” Zane blurted before I dropped him off at his house. “You need money.” “What?” “For school.” He did that nonchalant shrug thing. “Right? I mean you said your financial aid didn’t kick in right away, so what if, I pay you?” “You do realize I was going to do it for free, right?” “Gas costs money, and so does your time, not to mention the fact that I had to stop at least three times for food, and girls gotta eat too.” His eyes flashed. “Eating is important.” “O…kay.” I tried not to frown, but he wasn’t making sense again. “So you want to pay for food.” His hands started to shake, he quickly pulled at the door handle, but I grabbed his arm. “Hey,” My fingers dug in, keeping him in place. “Are you sure you’re okay?” “I’m always okay.” He flashed me a fake celebrity smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “Well for one, you’re shaking. Then again, I’d be shaking too if I consumed that much sugar within a twenty-four hour period. But you just…something seems wrong.” He jerked his arm away. “I need to pay you.” “What is with this obsession to pay me? I don’t want your money!” “But it’s necessary.” “Why?” I threw my hands in the air. “And why are we fighting about this?” “Shit.” He leaned against the seat of the car and dropped a couple of f-bombs that had my eyes widening with a mixture of shock and horror. Had I seriously pissed him off that bad? “If I pay you, this stays business, alright?” Confused, I pushed further. “So you need me to be more professional? Is that it?” “God save me from ignorant women.” “Hey!” He swallowed my next sentence, quite literally, with the cheerful help of his tongue as he slid it past my lips. Hands dug into my hair as he tilted his head, his mouth pressing against mine in a different angle that I felt all the way down to my toes. He kissed like he sang. With smooth wicked strokes that had me wondering how any guy would ever compare.

I leaned into him; our chests just barely grazed one another as his lips slid against mine over and over again, like he was enjoying the feeling of them touching more than the actual kiss itself, like he wanted to memorize the exact feel. With a jerk, he pulled away. Bright blue eyes locked on mine. “I have to pay you.” His voice was deliciously raspy. “Paying you makes this your job. Kissing you makes you equal parts boss and employee. I can’t kiss someone I work with. It’s against the rules.” “What rules?” “Every rule.” His eyes were desperate. “So, I pay you. And we go from you doing me a favor to mutually benefitting from our business endeavor.” “And then we go our separate ways,” I added, trying to figure out why my heart sank a little, and why I wanted him to kiss me again. “Absolutely.” His smile was back. “Except, I’ve always had a hard time following the rules, so I’m going to kiss you again…” “But you just said—” His mouth covered mine. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it was punishing, like he’d gone from wanting to coax it out of me to demanding I kiss him back, forcing me to press against his chest in a way to gain leverage between our bodies. He broke away. “I’ve always been horrible with authority.” “In this case you’re your own authority.” “Damn it.” He winked. “Sorry, I just…” He cursed under his breath. “Know that I completely agree that this sounds insane, but can I kiss you again?” “You are seriously the most confusing and irritating person I’ve ever met.” “You forgot sexy.” “On purpose.” I shoved his chest. “Because you know you’re like a walking sex toy.” He burst out laughing. “I like it.” “You would.” “I’m writing a song right now.” “I know.” I shook my head. “Zane, are you on drugs? I was with you all day. You’ve been trying to write the same song all day, with that same sentence. Heck, I could probably write that song better than you.” “Can’t seem to walk away when you look at me like you want me to stay.” He sang smoothly. “Tell me you mean it when your eyes beg for more. You lie with your words, your body sings the truth, I know you want it as much as I do—” His mouth curved into a smile as his lips brushed a kiss across mine. “You know nobody can make you feel the way I do….” I was shaking. He was dangerous.

The type of dangerous that invites itself into your house before you have a chance to say no, then starts rummaging through your fridge and asking if you want pasta for dinner. He was sneaky dangerous. “That was great.” I said a little breathless. “Maybe add in a few more words and you’ll have a whole song.” He nodded, his eyes twinkling with pride. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Letting me kiss you.” “Pretty sure that’s my line.” “Pretty sure it’s not.” He kissed my forehead, hesitated, and for one brief second, I figured he’d kiss me again. Instead, he pulled back, all business, and stated in a gruff voice. “Yeah, I’m paying you.” And that dear friends. Was how I helped Zane Andrews write his first hit in two years. I just didn’t know. Really, how could I know? That it wasn’t about kissing at all. It never was.

Chapter Thirteen Fallon I REGRETTED GIVING HIM my number almost immediately. Apparently, Dominoes was getting angry that

he kept calling them and asking them to approve of lyrics. So finally, three days after we started our weird partnership. Three days after the purposeful kiss. We were back to being whatever we were to begin with, the awkward girl and the pop star. We spent afternoons together walking on the beach, going to the aquarium, and eating. Zane loved eating. But he refused to eat anything without first savoring a few marshmallows, and when I asked him about it, he got so defensive I dropped the subject for fear he was going to be the celebrity that threw his drink in my face and stalked off. Mags still begged for information. But I was a vault. That, and I didn’t really know what to tell her. It was kind of…not embarrassing? I don’t know what it was, I couldn’t really put my finger on it. Maybe it was my pride, because explaining to her that he was paying me to be like a paid companion just sounded wrong. He always wanted me to walk in front of him in crowds. And sometimes he refused to even go into the grocery store because by the looks of the parking lot it was a zoo. His words not mine. It wasn’t until four days in when he texted me yet another audio sample of lyrics that I drove over to his house. We weren’t supposed to meet for another hour, but he was driving me insane, and I wasn’t doing anything anyway, might as well not do anything together. I knocked on his door and heard his muffled, ”Come in.” The blinds were drawn, and a huge bag of marshmallows lay open on the counter. Big shock there. “Zane?” I called, walking farther into the beach house, only to see Zane stretch his lean body up off the couch in perfect lion like fashion all before walking around and tossing a marshmallow at my face. “Four eyes, you made it.” I blinked. And then closed my eyes. “You’re naked.”

“Why do people always state the obvious? Of course I’m naked. I was alone, why would I be wearing clothes?” I covered my eyes, not trusting myself to just open them and take a peek at his impressive body. “Normal people wear clothes at all times!” “Why are you yelling?” “Because you’re naked!” “You already said that. Here, have a marshmallow.” He pelted another one at my body and then another. “That doesn’t change the fact”—I pulled my hands from my eyes, grabbed the two marshmallows, and chucked them at his head—“that you’re still naked!” “What would your grandma say about that, I wonder?” Zane teased with a wink. “She’d probably say your name was blasphemous.” “Saint?” His eyebrows arched as he walked around the couch and wrapped a blanket around his hips. Thank God. “That’s not my choice of names, after um, hearing about my childhood…” He frowned then shrugged. “My agent thought it would be a good angle.” “Did you grow up in the Catholic church or something?” He barked out a laugh. “Or something.” I managed a tiny breath and turned around, he might not be naked but most of his chest was on display for me to see, and it was impossible not to see all that glistening skin and muscle. “Sorry, I’m early. You wouldn’t stop texting me audio clips, and I figured this was easier.” “It is.” He came up behind me. The blanket brushed against me, and I nearly passed out on the spot. His arm snaked around my body and plunged into the marshmallow bag. That same arm brushed mine as he tugged a few marshmallows out and chewed. I knew he was chewing because he was that close. “So”—more chewing—“should we go to the bedroom?” “You’re paying me. That would make me a prostitute.” “Damn it, money exchanging hands really does change everything doesn’t it?” His body pressed closer. “Don’t worry, four eyes, I would never seduce you.” I hated that he was blatantly stating the obvious. Of course he wouldn’t. He was Zane Andrews! And let’s not forget the fact that he didn’t practice safe sex. “Good,” I lied. “Then by asking me to go into the bedroom I can only assume you need me to grab you clothes because you’re color blind, so lead the way and we’ll get to work.” “Slave driver.” He slapped my ass and took off down the hallway, leaving me to follow. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to smother him with a pillow or text a picture of my ass to everyone I knew and say something stupid like, “Zane Andrews just slapped me here. I’m never showering again!”

It was good. His cocky, arrogant prick of an attitude. It reminded me of who he was. Which in turn reminded me of who I was. A local Oregon girl just earning money for college. Zane dropped the blanket. I didn’t close my eyes this time. He crossed his arms. “Well, the emperor can’t go out like this. I think we all know how that story ended. Find me some clothes you approve of, and we’ll go for a walk.”

Chapter Fourteen Zane IT WAS GETTING HARDER.

Everything was getting harder. And I really meant everything. Mentally. And physically. Ignoring the fact that every time I saw her, I felt my chest flutter like a damn girl—I looked forward to seeing her. That was bad news. She was bad news. I was leaving, no chance in hell did I want to stay in Seaside for longer than I had to. Besides, it wasn’t like she was staying local anyway. We made it to the beach in record time. I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly collided with a rock and just barely missed it by jumping down the rest of the way onto the sand. “Easy ninja, you don’t want to break a leg before you start touring again,” Fallon said in a teasing tone. God, I really needed her to stop talking right now. Or, just. Ever. I stayed away from girls for a reason—sure I was photographed numerous times with girls hanging all over me, and yeah I’d kissed hundreds of them, but they were never fans, they were never normal, they were actresses, models, girls who knew that by touching me, they’d suddenly book the next job they had lined up. She was different. She gained nothing by kissing me, and I gained nothing but a really uncomfortable twitch in my cock by kissing her. No sex. No sex. No sex. Yeah, I wondered how many times I needed to repeat that mantra over and over in my head before something snapped, and I jumped on the first girl who said hi to me. It had never been a problem until now. Until the kissing and the whole issue of me promising not to seduce her or touch her.

Maybe that was the issue. I knew I would be a complete jackass if I followed through, and the last thing I wanted was for her big doe eyes to get sad, and for that sadness to be caused because after twenty-three years of being celibate, I finally broke down, gave in. It wasn’t like it was on purpose, my virginity. It was more of how I was brought up. Or rather, what I was surrounded with in foster care. I shuddered at the thought while Fallon raced ahead of me toward the ocean. The waves crashed against the sand with significant force causing the little pieces to fly into the air. Wind whipped at my face while I zipped up my hoodie and watched. The music had been coming for four days. Four full days of nothing but feeling, feeling for the first time in two years. The only issue was her. Every artist had his muse. I’d found mine. And wasn’t so sure I wanted to let her go. And just like that, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Another text. I knew who it was from, I knew what he’d be asking, and I knew what my answer would be. Not yet. Because the album was just now getting to the point where it was turning into something that I was proud of, and I’d only written five songs. Typically, I went through close to a hundred before I picked the tracks I wanted. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to my agent. Hell, he’d just love the spin she could make on a story about me using a local girl as inspiration, I’d blink, and a TV crew would be down here documenting every single second of the day and somehow twisting it into a romance where I’m suddenly pining after the plain girl with glasses. My cock twitched. Damn it. I was not pining after the cute girl. And she was cute. I let out a pitiful groan as she skipped ahead, kicking sand at her own ass, and nearly tumbling into a damn seagull before making it to the water. At least she’d stopped being so uptight around me, I still wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing—the familiarity. “Zane!” Fallon cupped her hands over her mouth and yelled my name at least three times before I finally acknowledged I’d heard her. Damn it. I was going to hurt her. I just knew it. And just like that, more music crashed into my chest right along with the waves, and words, they came reckless and angry. “You’re not very chatty today,” Fallon finally said once I reached her and we started walking along

the beach. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were upset that I saw you naked and didn’t faint.” “Hah.” I rolled my eyes. “Fainting has happened on occasion, but I figured you were made of stronger stuff, Fallon.” Shit. I said her name. Shit, shit, shit. Her smile wavered. Please don’t notice. “Yeah well…” She shrugged. “I’ve seen lots of naked men in my crazy life as a call girl.” “Oh, yeah?” I said in a thankful exhale; happy she hadn’t fixated on the fact that I didn’t call her four eyes. “And how is the business these days?” “Can’t complain, I’m gonna be a movie star one day you know, once I make enough money to move to Hollywood. Be my Richard Gere?” “He has gray hair.” “That’s your only reason for saying no?” “I have nice hair.” “You do.” She reached for my head and then jerked her hand back, her cheeks pinked as she stumbled forward. “Sorry.” “Fallon.” Damn it, now that I’d started saying her name I couldn’t stop. “Are you apologizing for almost touching me?” “Well, you are paying me.” She laughed, but it wasn’t her normal laugh, it was so fake I wanted to pull her into my arms and apologize. “So, no touching right? Isn’t that what you said?” Of course I’d be stuck with the smart girl who remembered every single conversation and stored it for moments like this when I wanted her to forget all of the reasons I’d given her in the car why kissing her was a bad idea. “So…” I cleared my throat and quickly changed the subject. “What did you think of the audio clip I sent?” She pushed her adorable black glasses up and scrunched her nose. “Okay don’t be mad.” “Ouch.” I held a hand to my chest. “That bad?” “You haven’t even heard what I have to say yet!” I stopped walking. “Okay, let me have it.” “The song’s about sex, right?” Hell, I hadn’t expected her to be so cute as if sex made her uncomfortable and everything with it— she would be different. She wouldn’t be using me. She’d genuinely be sharing herself with me because she wanted to. She was good.

Not like all the others. And I was leaving. Funny, since I was the one with abandonment issues, yet this time I would be the one walking—I hated it. “I guess.” I finally answered. “Why?” “Well, you make it sound so…clinical.” My mouth dropped open. Not what I thought she was going to say. “Um, I’m sorry what?” “People know how to have sex, Zane.” Hah, if she only knew. “Do they, now?” I grinned, unable to help myself. “Yeah.” She backed up a few steps. “I guess what I want to say is, I mean tab A goes into slot B and um,” She covered her face with her hands and mumbled. “This really isn’t how I pictured this conversation going.” “Oh, so you often picture having sex talks with me?” “Grandma would kill me right now.” “I’m very disappointed in you, young lady,” I said in a gruff voice that sounded way creepier than I’d meant it to. Fallon burst out laughing and removed her hands. “Okay.” She took a deep breath as pieces of her hair kissed her cheeks. I wanted those cheeks, that skin, maybe just one touch, no more than three caresses right? That was allowed. I reached for her, but she leaned back. “You make it sound cold.” “Cold.” My hand was still midair, I jerked it back. “I make sex sound…frigid? Is that what you mean?” “Yeah.” Her eyes widened. “I mean, okay I know you probably have a different sexual partner every single night, which is probably why there is such a disconnect between singing about it and actually, er, um doing it, but that’s not how it should be? You know quick, fast, I touch this, you touch that, oh, look we both orgasmed and then—“ The breath whooshed from my lungs. “Shit, did you just say orgasm?” Hell, did I just moan? Out loud? “Maybe.” She squinted. “No. Actually, can I have a do-over of this conversation?” “Absolutely not.” I barked out a laugh. “Why!” She looked up at the sky and clenched her fists. “Am I making sense at all?” “Nope.” “Sorry, Grandma,” she mumbled before grabbing my hands and sinking to the sand, pulling me down with her. We sat holding hands, staring at the waves. “I want you to close your eyes.” “Why are we apologizing to your dead grandma?” “She may haunt me for life after this.” “This day just gets better and better doesn’t it?” “Or worse, depending on what side of the conversation you’re on.”

I smirked; her cheeks literally could not get any redder. I reached up with my free hand and touched. Touching was always my downfall, maybe because once she was gone—nobody had touched me again. Fallon shivered and scooted toward me. “Your eyes aren’t closed.” “Sorry,” I said, voice gruff. Then I lowered my hand and closed my eyes. “Please tell me you don’t have some sort of weapon, and this is your sick way of seeking fame by killing me on the beach. Aroused.” “Huh?” “I’m talking about sex with a cute girl. Of course I’m into that.” My eyes were still closed, but I could hear her sharp intake of breath like I’d surprised her. Hell, I’d surprised myself! I had no business telling her she was cute. What the hell was I doing? “So um, think about a time you’ve been with a girl.” “Nope.” “Why?” “I don’t have any.” She growled. “This isn’t going to work if you refuse to participate.” “Four eyes…” “Seriously, Zane! The song has a great tempo, I really like it. It has the potential to be like the love song of the summer, only hotter, but you have to make it sensual, not sexual.” “I’m listening.” “Okay, so think about a girl you’ve been with and—” “No,” I interrupted. “How about you tell me about a time you’ve been with a guy. There has been a time, right?” I was going to hell. Basically making her feel bad about her lack of sexual experience and— “Only two.” The hell? I tried to keep myself composed, but seriously. Did she just say two? My little four eyes and two douche bags? I had a sudden need to find both dudes and strangle them, or publically shame them, run them over with my truck, drown them in the ocean and— “You’re squeezing my hand a bit hard, Zane.” Fallon said in a strained voice. I quickly released her hand. “Sorry, I was just…thinking.” “About me and other guys?” She laughed. It wasn’t funny. “So, these two pricks…” I started. “High school pricks, they taught you romance?” “Not romance!” She huffed. “You aren’t listening. But even with guys who have no experience…” I flinched unintentionally. She didn’t seem to notice. “…they still touch you. It’s not just about parts joining—oh no, I just

said parts and joining in the same sentence. This is literally worse than my sixth-grade health class when my teacher forced me to name the male reproductive system.” She hung her head. I wrapped my arm around her and sighed. “How about I rescue you from yourself?” “Finally. Now you decide to be heroic?” Her big eyes blinked up at me, and I fought an internal struggle to press my lips to her face, to comfort her, or maybe just kiss some of her embarrassment away, to see if she tasted as hot as her cheeks looked. I shuddered and broke eye contact. “Eh, I’m more the anti-hero, I think.” She leaned into me, we were touching, and then things clicked not because I was touching her, but because I wanted to touch her more, because even if all she did was let me press my skin against hers —I would be okay with it. Sure, I wanted more skin, more kissing, more exploring, but in a weird twist of fate, I just wanted whatever she’d offer, and even if it was the smallest kiss, I wanted to make it the best kiss of her existence. “I think,” I drew a slow circle on her arm, my finger barely grazing her skin. “What you’re trying quite horribly to explain is that you want the song to be more anticipation, less action.” “Y-yes.” She shivered. I hoped it was from my proximity, not the cold. “That.” My fingers slowly moved up her arm until I brushed the hair back from her neck. Then I leaned over and placed a kiss against her pulse. “And…the song should be about exploration, more your body is a wonderland and less I wanna lick, lick, lick you from your head to your toe and I wanna move from the bed down to the down the floor, and I wanna, ah ah, you make it so good I don’t wanna leave, but I gotta know what’s your fantasy?” Her mouth dropped open. I shut it with my pinkie finger. With a shudder, she pulled away and looked down at her frayed jeans, torn a bit at the knee. “Yes, um, that.” “So, two guys huh?” I said leaning back on my hands, changing the subject out of pure necessity since I’d almost kissed her at least a dozen times in the past minute. Her smile was like a shot to the chest, and it was directed at me. “Two guys, hardly a harem.” “Naturally. Since harems are typically filled with women.” “Ha ha.” She shoved my chest. “And how were these two guys? And before you tell me, note that I’m already imagining they have really bad teen acne and braces, so spare no detail if I’m right.” Fallon burst out laughing. “Is that all you think I can get? Bad teen acne and braces?” “No.” I said softly, and I meant it. I scooted closer to her. “I’m just hoping I’m the only guy that’s ever kissed you that way, touched you, elicited those nice little pants you always give off every time I’m close.” She turned away her cheeks flushing again. “Well, one was on the football team. Linebacker, more muscle than brains but actually really sweet. We were friends, went to Homecoming together—”

“Where he was crowned king?” She rolled her eyes. “Not that stereotypical, and no I didn’t lose my virginity on prom night.” I was shaking, and I had no idea why. I had this sick need to know more, to compare myself to two dicks I didn’t even know! For absolutely no reason. “And the other?” “We met at band camp.” She said with a straight face. “You’re shitting me.” She shook her head. “He was first drummer.” “Why the hell is it always the drummer? Is it because they have two sticks?” Fallon ducked her head. “He had good hands.” I clenched my own into fists and glared. “Good hands?” “For music.” She grinned. “You know, for pounding things.” With a groan I tore my gaze away from her face, I only had so much self-control and I’d never been good with temptation—which is why I never put myself in situations where I’d get physically attached to someone. Until now. “I have hands.” Oh good, Zane. Great, you have hands? Really man? “I see that.” Fallon reached for one and interlaced her fingers in mine. It felt natural, sitting with her on the beach, holding her hand. She had no way of knowing that the last person who purposefully held my hand—held me. Was dead. Or, that I’d been spending the last twelve years of my life, trying to make a ghost proud.

Chapter Fifteen Fallon FRIENDS. I THINK I hated that word. Maybe he did too? I couldn’t read him, and I’d always thought I was

good at that, reading people, observing, watching. He tensed at the strangest moments, hunched his shoulders in crowds as if he was afraid someone was going to shank him, and he was more comfortable naked than with clothes on. Four days in, and I wasn’t any closer to figuring out Zane Andrews, if anything, he was getting more and more complicated, like a maze that twisted every time you thought you had the way out decided. “I need food.” Zane said a few minutes later, we’d been sitting on the beach holding hands in silence for ten minutes. I had no idea what it meant. To me? More than it should. To him? I was probably just a body, a hand, a small hand that fit in his gruff hands. Calluses from playing guitar rose over his rough palm, they kissed my soft skin, causing a friction that reminded me too much about who he was compared to me. He was like a shark, claiming he could play nice with his fish. At some point, the fish pushes the shark too far and gets eaten. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. Yeah, I would probably enjoy that process more than I’d care to admit. Zane stood, pulling me to my feet, and then reached into his pocket and glanced at his phone, letting out another string of curses that had my cheeks heating. I had to give him points for creative use of the F-word. It made me uncomfortable. I had trouble saying ass. Ugh, great, now I was the sheltered girl. Not that I’d ever pretended to be anything else. “Everything okay?” I chanced asking. “Agent. Not happy. World. Not happy. What are the chances that the apocalypse happens before my album drops?” “Uh, do you want it to happen?” “Sorry,” He shook his head, as though he was trying to snap himself out of a stupor. “I’m just stressed.” “That’s what you pay me for, right?” I elbowed him in the ribs, “You’re personal tour guide slash

assistant slash marshmallow dealer.” He burst out laughing and reached for my hand again “And a chapstick supplier. Don’t forget the chapstick.” I should pull away. Already I was getting too attached, but I justified my behavior. I would regret not spending every moment with him, right? Because already, I missed him, even if he drove me insane half the time. We walked hand in hand to the boardwalk and made our way into Maggie’s on the Prom. It was one of my favorite spots because they always had blankets for their customers and often had an amazing array of hot drinks and happy hour appetizers. There was nothing better than hearing the ocean crash while sipping coffee snuggled in a blanket. Before I could sit down, Zane was already grabbing me one of their wool blankets and wrapping it around my body before tucking in the edges, so I had no use of my hands. Smirking, he grabbed his own and placed it on his lap then started reading the menu out loud. “What sounds good?” He winked. “Oyster shooters? Salad?” His eyes narrowed. “Let me guess you want fish?” I frowned. “I like fish.” “Because you hate meat.” I couldn’t hold back my smile. “You figured it out.” “Who doesn’t like burgers?” “Me.” “But it’s meat.” “I think I know where burgers come from.” “Is this all meat?” His wicked smile had me squirming in my seat as he leaned forward. “Hey, you like science. Should we conduct an experiment?” “Nope.” I shivered, but I was hot—from his look, from the way the shadow of fresh beard growth had his smile looking more wicked and dirty than it should. I wanted to feel the scruff against my fingers tips, imagined it against my cheek as we kissed, my thighs… Whoa, whoa, whoa! I mentally slapped myself. His face had literally been plastered against so many female parts that I would probably catch something and have to go to the free clinic. It was an unfair assessment, but probably true. He couldn’t help but scream sex with every word that came out of his mouth, the way he walked, even the way he touched me, nothing about it was friendly, but I think he had good intentions. I don’t think he could help it or knew how to pull back. “Oyster shooters.” I blurted. “I love them.” He scrunched up his nose. “Fine, and you want some shrimps on your salad.”

“Did you just say shrimps?” I giggled. He tossed the menu onto the table. “That’s what they are.” “Shrimp is both singular and plural.” “And yet, shrimps still sounds bad ass.” “In what universe?” “Mine.” He chuckled. “The only one that counts.” “Such a true and sad statement,” I teased, finally pulling my hands free from the mummified blanket tying compliments of Zane. “Also I want a diet coke.” “I’m ordering you real coke.” “Like the drug?” I gasped. “Very funny.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve never actually done coke or any other drug thank you very much.” “Marshmallows.” I coughed. He flipped me off then reached into his pocket. And paled. “What?” I was still grinning. “What is it?” He bit out a curse. “I forgot marshmallows.” “O…kay…” I drew out the word slowly. “And?” He curled his hands into two tight fists as his body began to shake. “Zane, that’s not funny.” “Do you think I’m trying to be funny right now?” He bit out, knocking his chair backwards as he stood on wobbly legs and then drunkenly stumbled down the rocky path. “Wait!” I ran after him, tossing the blanket back onto the chair, he was walking like he’d just taken a hit of some drug. “Zane!” I pleaded catching up to him and grabbing his hand, he didn’t squeeze it back—he always squeezed it back, but his hands were clammy, freezing. And when he looked at me, it was as if he lost complete focus. “Hey, hey, let’s just walk back okay? You’re fine.” His nostrils flared, but he managed a small nod before leaning at least half his weight on me. It took a crazy amount of effort not to zigzag while I walked; he was at least sixty pounds heavier than me, and on top of that, he was mumbling curses under his breath, which wasn’t at all helpful in our current situation. The more he talked, the more freaked out I became. He wasn’t making sense at all. “Tell me about…the song.” I said quickly. “Songs,” he whispered. “I know you’re trying to help.” He bit out another curse and stumbled. “Sorry, I’m just…it’s not. Helpful. I need marshmallows.” “Okay.” I gulped. “We’ll get you marshmallows.” “Like a child.” He sounded disgusted with himself.

As we rounded the corner, I could see the house up on the cliff, we needed to do a bit of a climb once we reached the stairs. “HOLY SHIT!” a girl yelled. “IT’S ZANE ANDREWS!” Zane froze; the look he gave me was beyond pathetic. I didn’t know what to do. I quickly looked around us. The girls were in the parking lot near one of the hotels, we couldn’t hide in the bushes by the beach. We could make it as far as the stairs but…. “Give me your phone.” I pleaded while still trying to lead him, this time faster to the stairs. Zane didn’t answer, if anything he paled more. “Frick.” I reached into his pocket and prayed his phone wasn’t password protected and quickly scrolled through the last few calls, praying Jaymeson would be one of them. He was. I pressed the green button. “Zane, we need to go NOW.” He was moving faster, but still heavy, still talking nonsense, still about two steps away from looking like he was going to collapse and start rocking back and forth. “Hello?” Jaymeson answered on the second ring. “Something’s wrong with Zane!” I yelled. “No marshmallows and girls are chasing us, and I’m on the stairs and—“ He hung up on me. Well, that worked out well! “Zane,” I shoved his phone in my pocket, “We have like five flights of stairs and the girls are running at us, I need you to do me a favor.” His breathing was heavy as he leaned against me and nodded. “Okay.” “Think about your marshmallows.” His smile was faint. “The sweet taste, the way they smell, the way they calm you down, think about your marshmallows. Because if those girls catch us you’re probably going to get taken advantage of, and any hope of seeing more marshmallows disappears right along with your dignity, alright?” His breathing slowed, and then he locked eyes with me. “Alright.” “Good. Now. Run.” Hand in hand, we jogged up the stairs, he continued to stumble, and then I saw not just Jaymeson at the top of the stairs but Alec and Demetri Daniels, and Lincoln Greene. In the back of my mind, I had a minor freak out, I mean the guys were all so famous I should be terrified. Instead, it was like Zane’s family had just arrived and were going to unleash hell. They all looked pissed, but not at me. “Almost there.” I ushered Zane forward until finally, we both collapsed in a heap on the grass just

below the beach house. Alec turned around and motioned to two huge dudes who made their way down the stairs and stood, arms crossed. Bodyguards? Duh! Why didn’t Zane just take his bodyguards? Unless they weren’t his? Ugh, I was too exhausted. And was officially swearing off stairs for the next ten years. “Hey,” I reached for Zane. “Are you okay?” He jerked away from me. “Don’t.” Jaymeson sighed a curse and helped me to my feet. “I’ll take you home.” “No!” I pulled away. “I’m worried. This isn’t normal!” Demetri winced and shared a look with Alec before nodding his head at me. “Jay’s right, Fallon, is it?” I hung my head. “Yeah.” “Nothing about this is normal.” Lincoln said under his breath before reaching for Zane’s arm, but Zane refused to get up. Instead, he crossed his arms and sat on the grass like a petulant child. “This is stupid.” Glaring, I pointed at Zane. “You need to get off your ass and get in the house. They could be taking pictures of this.” “Good point,” Jaymeson added. “The guys will get him inside, and I’ll take you home.” This time, he reached for me. “I drove.” I took a step back and stared at Zane, waiting for him to respond. He looked right through me, angry, like it was my fault. “Zane, you need to get up.” “Go to hell.” He finally stood on wobbly legs while Jaymeson came up beside him. “Excuse me?” I lunged for him, but Lincoln Greene, movie star Lincoln Greene, held me back by the arm. “This isn’t NORMAL! What aren’t you people getting?” “Welcome to Hollywood,” Zane said in a bitter tone and marched off while Lincoln pulled me against his chest, probably afraid I was going to chase after his friend and launch myself against his body. But I had no strength left, even if it did sound like a really solid plan. “He doesn’t mean it.” Lincoln finally released me. “He’s just going through a hard time.” I pressed my hands to my face and took a few deep breaths. “He had a meltdown.” Lincoln winced. “Because he forgot a freaking marshmallow.” Jaymeson stepped forward. “Fallon, you should go.” “But—” “Now.” His steely gaze said there was no room for arguing. “Go to the press about this, and I’ll not only sue your family, but make sure your parents lose everything including their house…over a

crush.” My mouth dropped open. Mine wasn’t the only shocked expression of the group. Alec and Demetri looked ready to pass out while Lincoln cursed. “Jackass,” under his breath. Tears clouded my vision as I shoved past everyone and made my way to my car. As luck would have it, my Jetta refused to start. Which meant, I was walking. A knock sounded at my window scaring the crap out of me. I quickly wiped my cheeks and rolled down the glass. “What?” Alec held up his hands. “Whoa, I’m not the enemy here. I live down by the beach. I’ll take you home. That is, unless you want to stay here sobbing in front of the house because a privileged rock star just yelled at you?” I smiled at that. “I’d rather not.” “Didn’t think so.” He opened the car door and led me over to a brand new black Range Rover. “Hop in before he apologizes.” “Yeah right.” “In three, two, one—” Jay came running out of the house. I hopped in the SUV so fast that my elbow hit the side in an effort to slam the door. “Good choice.” Alec started the engine and flashed me a devastating smile. “We have ten minutes with Seaside traffic. Start at the beginning.”

Chapter Sixteen Zane “EVERY TIME,” GRANDMA WHISPERED in her frail voice. “Every single time you get sad or scared…know

that I’ll always be with you.” Her knotted arthritic hand touched my face. “I love you, Zane.” “But…” I sobbed against the blankets, the blankets that smelled like her vanilla perfume and roses. “How will I know you’re with me? How will I know if I can’t feel you!” She was dying. And it was my fault. She always gave me her food. Every single time. She said I was a growing boy. And I was always hungry, but she needed meatloaf too! I told her so all the time, but she said she was fine with just a few bites. She always gave me the bigger portion. And watered down her own milk so I’d have some for dinner. It was one of my favorites. Cold milk. Memories of better days assaulted me. I was only seven. She took my sisters and me in when our parents abandoned us for drugs. And now she was leaving too. Why did everyone leave? Sobs wracked my body as Grandma hugged me with all the strength she had—it wasn’t much, and I knew the time was close, the doctor said her heart was too weak after the last attack. “Zane, look at your grandma, right now, young man,” she ordered in her strict voice. My lips trembled as hiccups escaped between them. “Y-yes, Grandma.” “That’s my boy.” She nodded, then reached behind her and pulled out a bag of marshmallows. “I’ll always be in your heart…but sometimes, we need reminders of the happier things, yes?” “Yes, ma’am.” She dumped a handful of marshmallows into my hand then a handful into hers and knocked fists with me. “Even when I’m gone, we’ll always have the marshmallows, and every time you’re sad, or afraid, or nervous, you eat a marshmallow and know your grandma is eating one with you—in heaven.” “They have marshmallows in heaven?” I asked, relieved she wouldn’t be without one of my favorite foods. She’d claimed it was the only way to get me to be a big boy and learn how to use the bathroom. A marshmallow trail to the toilet with a few colored ones dropped in. “Of course they do!” She laughed and then started coughing. “Now, let’s eat some marshmallows, and when we’re done, I might just let you sing me a song.”

“I love eating marshmallows with you, Grandma.” “And I love your voice, little Zane.” We each ate a marshmallow, and then I started singing the lullaby All Through The Night. I sang the last line and kissed her cheek, just as her eyes opened, she whispered, “Love you, my boy.” And ten marshmallows fell to the floor. I was in the house, pacing, eating marshmallows like my life depended on it, waiting for the calm to settle over me, only realizing it wasn’t. There was no calm. Holy shit, I’d finally snapped. And brought Fallon down with me. I didn’t want to face her. I refused to see her again. Because she’d seen me at my worst. And my worst was ugly. So ugly. Pain swirled in my chest, pounded a rhythm along my ribs, a daunting, hopeless rhythm, that I just wished—God save me, I wished it would stop. “I threatened to sue her,” Jay whispered taking a seat next to me on the couch. “And I may have said something about losing her house.” I grunted. “That’s excessive.” “Is it?” Jaymeson’s voice rose an octave. “To want to protect you from yourself? Protect the media from the truth?” “Hah, the truth.” I smashed a marshmallow between my fingers and popped it into my mouth. “The truth is, Zane Andrews is crazy. There I said it. Elephant gone.” “You’re not crazy.” Demetri wandered into the room, I really didn’t remember inviting him, but whatever. Had the whole world witnessed my shame? Yeah, pretty much. She did. The one girl I would have kept it from. Maybe it was better that way. We were better apart. I was getting too comfortable. I was holding her hand in public because I liked her, for God’s sakes! “Now Jay? Jay may be crazy. I mean England over here just threatened a poor girl with glasses who looked ready to puke because she was so worried you were about two seconds away from dying.”

My head jerked to attention. “She thought I was dying?” “You looked like you were dying.” Lincoln joined in from the kitchen tossing me a water bottle. “Drink up.” “Why are you guys here?” “She called.” Jay gave me a serious look. “While you were having an epic anxiety attack over marshmallows, she called, and we were just coming back here to take a break and go over some of the songs for the soundtrack when the call came in. You’re lucky. Lucky she called me, but lucky that we were here too. Alec and Demetri’s bodyguards just flew in since we’ve been having issues on set with fans…” I sighed. Refusing to make eye contact with any of them. “Well, thanks.” “At the risk of getting cussed out or potentially punched,” Demetri offered. “I think you need to talk to someone, Zane.” “Who the hell do you think you are?” I roared, jumping to my feet. Jay slammed his arm between me and an approaching and very pissed Demetri. “No.” He shoved Jay away. “Stop babying him. You want the truth?” Demetri snarled. “You’re acting like a spoiled jackass! Hell, my niece has better manners than you do when she’s throwing tantrums. Granted, all she wants is a tit full of milk but hell, you’re a freaking mess, man, and that’s me sugarcoating as much shit as I can.” He shook his blond head. “You need to talk to someone about the anxiety attacks. Because if you don’t, it’s just going to build until you end up a true hermit, afraid of your own shadow. At least listen to your friends, the people that care about you. Hell, listen to Mama Jay.” Jaymeson flipped him off. “You know if England starts yelling at innocent nineteen-year-old girls with a heart of gold in order to protect your ass, something is seriously, seriously wrong.” “Is she okay?” I backed down, my shoulders slumping with shame. “I didn’t mean to—” “Like hell. You knew exactly what you were doing.” Demetri rolled his eyes. “You were pushing her away, doing the whole, look I’m a monster, you’re better off without me.” “He’s scary accurate in his assessments of human nature,” Lincoln muttered under his breath. I smirked and nodded my head in agreement. “So…” Jay stood. “Maybe we both apologize to the girl you like?” “It’s not like that,” I said quickly. You could have heard a damn pin drop in that room. I stared blankly at every face, hoping that my body language gave no hints to my true feelings. “Guys, seriously. She doesn’t fawn all over me, won’t even take my picture which is weird, now that I think about it, and I’m paying her to basically hang out with me during the day so I can write outside of the house…I feel stifled inside, but am terrified to go outside, ergo, Fallon.”

“Does she know that?” Lincoln piped up. “Because the concern I saw on her pretty little face was anything but platonic.” “Don’t call her pretty,” I shot back. Lincoln held up his hands. “Why do I suddenly feel the need to cover my junk? Am I seriously not allowed to notice that she’s pretty?” “Gorgeous eyes.” Demetri nodded. “Really cute body too.” Jay spread his arms wide and grinned. “You guys are complete assholes,” I muttered. Lincoln shrugged. “All I’m saying is that, what’s the pretty girl going to do when she finds out you’ve been using her to get your musical orgasm on? You gonna leave her high and dry and return to your marshmallow-addicted lifestyle? Is that how this works?” I groaned. “You make it sound worse than it is. It’s not like I’m sleeping with her.” “But you’ve kissed her,” Jay pointed out. “How do you even KNOW that?” I yelled. “AH HAH!” Demetri raised his hand for a high-five from Jay. “Good one, brother, good one.” “Hell,” I declared as my shoulders slumped. “I walked right into that one.” “Kissing…” Lincoln peeled back some of the paper on his water bottle. “Is sometimes a lot more intimate than sex.” Jay gave him a face. “Please don’t use that word in my presence. I’m fully aware of what goes on behind closed doors between you and my little sister.” Lincoln grinned shamelessly. He’s lucky Jay hasn’t run him over with his car yet. “I highly doubt there will be any more kissing in the future,” I admitted, talking over them. “Since I yelled at her after she rescued me.” “Aw, you’re like the damsel in distress.” Demetri winked. “Please don’t use the word damsel and then wink at me ever again.” I wagged my finger at him. “Ever. Again.” He held up his hands in innocence, still smirking. I looked around the living room. “Wait, you said you were all here, where’s Alec?” Demetri yawned. Jaymeson stared at his hands. And Lincoln took a giant swig of water. “Guys…” “Oh.” Demetri pointed back at the door. “He texted about five minutes ago that he found Fallon crying in her car. It wouldn’t start, so he drove her home.” Air whooshed out of my lungs like someone had just sucker punched me in the gut. “She was crying?”

“Well, look at it this way, she just had two of the biggest celebrities on the planet yell at her, while one threatened to sue her, yeah, I’d probably cry too.” Demetri said in a low voice. “But only if birds are involved.” “Huh?” I blinked. “What is with you and avian creatures?” “Give them a fancy name all you want.” Demetri shuddered. “A bird is still a bird. And a bird will always be the spawn of Satan.” “Alright then.” Lincoln jumped to his feet. “Not to change the subject, but we need to go over soundtrack songs, and now that Zane has eaten his weight in marshmallows…” “But,” I said, frowning. “I should talk to Fallon.” The guys all started laughing in unison. “Hah!” Demetri slapped his leg then sobered. “Oh hell guys, he’s serious.” “Of course I’m serious!” I roared. “Sit.” Lincoln shoved me onto the couch. “Texting her isn’t enough, calls will be sent to voice mail. Let Alec talk to her first, go visit her after she’s cooled off.” I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to run after her and apologize. But the guys, all of them, were either married or in committed relationships, and I’d never had that, never done that. Which begged the question—when did I start thinking of her as more than a friend?

Chapter Seventeen Fallon IF TWO WEEKS AGO anyone would have told me that lead singer of AD2, Alec Daniels, was going to be

driving me to my house. I would have laughed in their face then stuttered out a jumble of words that made no sense. But I was too angry to even speak. So I stared at the really nice dashboard and wondered how many cows had to die to make all that leather. The seats were comfortable. And I was immediately set at ease when my feet kicked at a pack of size two diapers. He may be a rockstar, but he wasn’t a bachelor, as if I needed further proof, a huge car seat took up half of the space in the back, complete with one of those mommy mirrors and enough toys hanging from the handle that the poor child probably experienced sensory overload every single car ride. “So,” Alec tapped his lean fingers against the steering wheel, the beat in the background was unmistakable, Gabe Hyde, another huge music name who’d gone on tour with AD2. I needed to blot that out of my memory if I was ever going to find my voice. Last summer I’d gone to their concert, mainly because Mags wouldn’t let me say no. But still. I had been at their sold-out concert in Portland. And now, I was in his car. What was this life? “Fallon?” Alec’s voice was deep, with a touch of rasp that was ever present in every perfect lyric that fell from his mouth. “You’re going to have to use words, sweetheart.” “S-sorry.” I whispered. “I’m…pr-processing.” “I bet.” His smile was tight. We pulled up to the stoplight, he turned down the music and glanced at me out of the corner of his blue eyes. “He didn’t mean it you know, all the yelling.” “Oh,” My throat managed tight enough to hinder proper breathing. “I think he did.” “Zane is…” Alec swore. “He’s…” “Complicated?” I offered. “That…” Alec nodded then hit the accelerator when the light flashed green. “But, there’s so much more to him, to any of us really. When you live in the spotlight, when every movement is on display for the world to see, it sucks ass. You do something right, and people love you. You have one bad day, and they despise you, the crowds turn on you and even your own agent gets angry because suddenly

you aren’t booking sold-out shows, hell you aren’t even booking shows. And then, of course, the cycle continues once you do something else crazy, only to repeat the process again.” He shuddered. “It’s demeaning, demoralizing…but it’s also addictive, this lifestyle, the way people worship you.” I gulped. “I c-can’t imagine. I really can’t. Even if I tried. I’d f-fall short.” Get it together, Fallon. I focused on breathing so my words would come out normal. “And I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Hell, my poor wife. I even think about my little girl, and I get so sick I want to puke. This is the life I chose, but what about them? The people I love and care for?” He shrugged. “I’m not trying to justify what happened, or what he said, I just want you to try to understand that as much as people say celebrities are just like you.” He licked his lips and smirked. “We’re not. We won’t ever be normal.” His admission was shocking. And yet, honest. Raw. The rift between me and Zane had never been so evident, or so depressing. “I didn’t mean for that to sound arrogant.” His low voice interrupted my thoughts. “Just necessary.” “It’s not.” I frowned. “In fact, I was just thinking that it was…very trusting of you.” His smile widened. “You’re a logical girl, aren’t you Fallon?” I nodded. “Zane doesn’t call me four eyes because I won Miss Seaside. I’d like to think I’m more brain than beauty.” “He calls you four eyes?” Alec was incredulous. “To your face?” “Yeah?” “Huh.” His lips pressed together as though he was trying to keep himself from laughing. “I’ll be damned.” “Am I missing something?” “All brains you say?” He said in a teasing tone and then huffed out. “You never did give me your address then again I didn’t ask. I want to hear all the gory details before I drop you off.” “Oh.” I felt my face heat. “I’m sorry. Here you are trying to entertain me while I mope and—” “You have reason to mope.” “I don’t like it though.” In fact, I felt dirty like I needed a shower, I never wanted to be the type of girl to get so upset over a guy that she sobs herself to sleep and then eats an entire quart of ice cream. I would like to think I wasn’t like that, but clearly, I didn’t know myself very well because it sounded good and easy, to go home and pout instead of text Zane and tell him to man up. Which just further made me wonder if I was that bossy in every area of my life. Oh no. I really was my grandma. She ingrained in me to be a strong woman.

And now I was bossing around a stranger. Fantastic. I fired off my address, but when Alec stopped in front of my house, he held out his hand. “Wait.” “What?” “He ran out of marshmallows.” “Right.” I said slowly. “And then freaked out.” “Because of the marshmallows?” I frowned. “Well, yeah I mean he said he didn’t have any marshmallows.” Alec sighed. “Think about it, Fallon.” I was. I just didn’t get his point. Alec looked heavenward. “Oh hell, if this ever gets out I’ll deny it.” “What?” “I used to be terrified of singing in front of people. My comfort, of course, was being with my brother and just chilling together at home. So, my agent brought my home with me. He took a picture of me and Demetri playing guitar then glued it onto this felt fabric. He basically ordered me to keep it in my pocket, which, if you’ve ever seen how tight our jeans are, was ridiculously hard to begin with.” He chuckled. “But something about feeling the fabric between my fingers and knowing that I could go home when we were done, it calmed me down and I got over my fear.” My brain started slowly connecting the dots. “So,” My eyes narrowed. “You’re saying that marshmallows are like his picture?” “I didn’t say it was sane.” He shrugged. “And I probably don’t know him well enough to say I’m a hundred percent sure, but I’m going to assume that the issue wasn’t the fact that he’s obsessed with marshmallows and more that he uses them as a comfort.” My jaw dropped open. Alec chuckled. “Wow, it feels so good to be the smartest guy in the SUV.” I rolled my eyes and unbuckled my seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride and…the talk…” I stopped and glanced at the backseat. “You’re going to be an awesome dad, you know that?” His grin was huge. “You think so?” “Little girl, right?” I pointed to the pink blanket near the carrier. “Yeah.” Pride oozed from every pore on him. I nodded. “She’s lucky to have you.” “Thanks…” Alec tipped his head toward me then started the engine. “And Fallon?” I turned around. “He’s lucky to have you too. Not many friends would have done what you did.” “Friends.” I repeated, hating the word all over again. I had no business hating that word. “Thanks.” “Anytime.” He drove off and left me staring at the road as cars passed by. And things returned to normal.

Like I hadn’t been spending the past few days with Zane Andrews. Like I didn’t just get yelled at by Jamie Jaymeson. Like Alec Daniels hadn’t just driven me home. The world didn’t stop and take notice. Which gave me hope that they wouldn’t notice the meltdown at the beach or my involvement in it. I slowly trudged to my house and opened the door. Mom was putting dishes away. I slammed the door behind me, tears welling in my eyes. “Fallon?” She turned around and froze. “What’s wrong?” And just like the girl I swore I would never be, I burst into tears and ran into my mom’s arms.

Chapter Eighteen Zane Saint: Talk to me. Saint: Fallon… Saint: I’m sorry. Saint: We need to talk. Saint: Look, ignore me all you want but I refuse to go away. I’m like a disease. I stared down at my phone. In all my desperation, I was pretty sure I just told the girl I care about that I was like a disease. And I wasn’t even drunk. It was a completely sober text. Damn it. Saint: But a good disease. Shit. I just made it worse. Saint: The kind you want? Fallon: YOU ARE DRIVING ME INSANE! Name one disease that I would actually want, and I’ll talk to you. I frowned down at my phone and quickly Googled diseases that were helpful to humans, naturally I got nothing, so I made one up. Saint: Zanism. Heard girls get all hot and bothered, some even faint. Ever heard of it? Fallon: Nope. Sorry. Groaning, I stared up at her house. It had been seven days of ignored texts and phone calls. Seven. Days.

I didn’t text the first night because I knew it was smart to let her cool off, but ever since then it had been nonstop. I even went to her work. But I could never catch her—which just meant I would have had a horrible career as a stalker. I grimaced as I took in my black jeans and black hoodie. Okay so maybe I was taking things too far. Showing up at her house at ten at night fully aware that her dad shoots things and eats them. And not just small things. But human sized things. So there was a huge chance he was going to shoot me in the face and then apologize for being trigger happy all the while telling his little girl Daddy would take care of things. Like disposing of the body. Or mounting my head on his wall. Hell. I was sweating, and I wasn’t even inside the damn house yet! I had no idea which room was hers. I fired off another text. Saint: The moon is pretty tonight. Bingo. Blue curtains pulled back and then a window opened. Fallon: Yup. She lived in a two story, but the lower level wasn’t really high, and if I was able to stand on the wraparound porch, I’d be able to jump to the next level no problem. I tucked my phone back into my jeans and then stood on the porch and pressed my palms against the shingles. With a grunt, I pulled myself up and managed not to get a sliver in my ass as I quietly shuffled across the roof and located her window. Well, either she was going to scream, at which point her dad would come running and shoot me dead. Or she’d push me out the window, where I’d fall a whole story and snap my neck, and end up dead. Or, she might find some way to forgive me, and I wouldn’t die. Two out of three. Not the best odds. Definitely not the worst either. I hopped in through her open window and froze. Because I hadn’t factored in one scenario, one pivotal point that I probably should have focused on. Fallon getting ready for bed. Correction, Fallon changing for bed. And Fallon. In nothing but a sports bra and tight blue and black boy shorts, the kind that makes a girl’s ass look like a juicy apple you want to sink your teeth into.

I sucked in a few deep breaths while she stared me down. Her face was full of complete shock, which of course quickly turned to anger, and then embarrassment as she moved her hands over her breasts and then lower and then, finally she stomped her foot and ground out. “What. Are. You. DOING?” “Taking a walk on the beach?” I offered lamely, my eyes still glued to all the places they definitely should not be looking. Shit, she was beautiful, curvy for being so short. My hands twitched with the need to touch where her hips met ass, damn it, she was pretty. Really pretty. Not just cute. Pretty. And I suddenly had a horrifying realization. The pretty girl had experience. The jackass didn’t. Oh, hell. This would, of course, happen to me. Everything I want, tied up in a nice little package of temptation, and I might as well be in the Garden; look but don’t touch, touch and die. “A walk.” She repeated. “I’m curious how this walk managed to detour into my bedroom.” “A mystery of the universe, I suppose.” Her eyes narrowed just as a loud male voice yelled. “Pumpkin!” I’m sure my horror matched hers as she quickly looked around the room then grabbed my arm and shoved me into her closet, closing it on my face before I heard her yell. “Hold on, Daddy, I’m changing.” Sweet hell. I muttered a curse as her scent surrounded me, literally, choking the control away from my brain and disposing of it in my dick. I could do this. I’d been in situations of temptation before. For shits sake, I was a celebrity! I had tits and ass thrown at me every hour of the day—when I wasn’t holed up in my manager ’s house in Malibu or here in Seaside. Whatever. “Shake it off, Zane.” I breathed in and out as a knock sounded on the door. “What’s up, Daddy?” Oh shit, her voice sounded like she’d just been strangled. Why was it my luck that I was stuck with a girl who couldn’t lie to save her life and a father who hunted large animals for sport? I tried not to move a muscle. Which meant of course, I had to sneeze. But her closet was freakishly small, like made for a midget or something. Legs burning, I kept myself in a semi-crouched position and thought about everything but the itch on the side of my nose. I couldn’t even reach my marshmallows. But at least I knew they were there. What I couldn’t figure out, was how, after years of having that security, I had managed to simply

forget to stock up before going out? “You sound different,” her dad muttered. “Are you okay? Still sad?” “Nope. Not sad! I was just getting ready for bed.” Her voice was way too loud and fake. Well, I was going to be on the eleven o’clock news. Goodbye cruel, cruel world. “Baby…” Her dad sighed. “I know that he broke your heart.” My chest felt heavy. “He didn’t,” she corrected him. “I’m fine.” “You were sobbing!” Forget a heavy chest, it was cracking, splitting in two. What kind of bastard yells at an innocent girl who tries to save his sorry ass? I stifled a sigh. This one. “I’m a girl,” she said cheerfully. “We have our moments, you know? Plus he’s my friend, and sometimes you hurt the people closest to you.” That wasn’t a lie. Not even close. It was truth. I knew it as much as she did. Because somehow…I wasn’t just attracted to her. Oh sure, I wanted her body, oddly enough I was even starting to miss her glasses. But I liked her. As a person. As in, one of my favorite people. And I’d met her a little less than two weeks ago. Terrifying, to think of the multiplication of days and months—by Christmas, I was probably going to be writing her love songs and turning into all of my friends. Complete saps. Losers. Not that I didn’t want a life where I came home to someone, to something—hell a home would even be nice. But she didn’t fit with my lifestyle. Nobody did. I pushed the yearning deep down, just like I pushed down the wicked need I had to make her mine. “Okay, sweetie.” Her dad sighed loudly. “I’ll make pancakes tomorrow morning, how’s that sound?” I rolled my eyes. She had no idea how good she had it. Holy shit, was I actually jealous of her family? That was new. The feeling of wanting, not just the girl, but the whole package, even the crazy gun-wielding dad. Hell, I needed to go back to LA. Fast. “Thanks, Dad, love you.”

“Love you too.” His voice was gruff, deep, dripping with emotion as the door shut. I exhaled in relief then remembered the itch on my nose just as the closet door opened. Ahh-choo! I sneezed all over the pretty girl. Because that’s how you get laid, you sneeze to mark your territory. Sweet God, why hadn’t her dad just discovered me, shot me, and buried the body? Fallon scrunched up her nose. “Bless you.” “I’m the saint, I should be blessing you,” I countered, trying to recover from embarrassment. I gripped some clothes to stand and ended up falling down again, this time with dresses covering my face. Shocked, I jerked back. “You have dresses?” Fallon gritted her teeth and snagged them away from me. “For church.” I smirked. “Care to confess?” “Just because that’s your nickname doesn’t make you an actual saint, dude.” I perked up. “Did you just call me dude?” Fallon shoved her dresses back onto the hangers and hung them above my head. “You have five seconds before I call my dad—he was cleaning his rifle.” I held up my hands, still sitting on my ass next to a clutter of shoes and—holy shit was that a Lego set? “You like Legos.” “You climb into my window, and that’s all you have to say?” “Yeah.” I was dumbfounded. “You’re a girl.” “I like…” She fidgeted with her Portland State sweatshirt. “I like building things.” “Me too.” Could I have been anymore quick to answer? Her smile made my entire night better, the way it tilted her lips, forcing her to reveal her teeth and amazing tasting tongue. “You’re a child, you know that, right?” “I did have an obsession with Peter Pan when I was little.” “Like the tights, huh?” “How’d you know?” I laughed and moved to a full sitting position. “I’m sorry.” “Zane—” “It wasn’t your fault.” “It wasn’t yours either,” she said in a stern voice, almost accusing. “You know that, right?” I looked past her, at the window, my escape. Because the thing about having friends or soul mates or whatever she was, they saw through your bullshit, and people like that, I avoided them because it was too hard to pretend to be anything but myself. The very person I was afraid to be. “Zane.” The way she said my name, like we weren’t strangers, it had me finally locking eyes with her. “I won’t push you now. You were mean. And cruel. And you weren’t you. And I hated seeing that. I

hated that you took out your own issues on me.” “I know,” I mumbled feeling about two feet tall. “It was badly done.” “Completely,” she agreed way too fast. “But I hope we can still be friends.” “No.” I said just as quick. She stumbled back as though I’d just hit her. I was on my feet in about two seconds. My mouth on hers in less than a minute. And my decision to cross that line? Was no longer a decision, or a question, it was a promise. One I sealed with a searing kiss.

Chapter Nineteen Fallon HE NEEDED TO STOP kissing me. It wasn’t fair. To either of us, but mainly in our current situation—it

wasn’t fair to me. To girls like me in general. His mouth hungrily nipped at mine, as his lips explored. I put a hand between us to create some space and took a step back, Zane’s breathing was heavy, laborious, his eyes wild. “What’s wrong?” “You.” “Me,” he repeated dumbly, then took another threatening step toward me, this time tugging my body against his while he swallowed kiss after kiss until I lost count of how many times our lips brushed—or the number of moans he emitted out of me as he angled his head different ways, pressing his hands to my hips then running them up my body until I trembled. I felt thoroughly seduced. And taken advantage of. “You’re,” I said between small, heated, wet kisses. “Paying.” He was persistent, I’d give him that, but I couldn’t let myself fall for it, fall for the guy who was ninety-nine percent wrong and maybe one percent right. “Me.” “Then I’ll stop paying you,” he growled, his scruff brushed against my skin as he peppered more kisses across my lips. “Do you even realize how much you talk?” His calloused hands grazed the skin beneath my sweatshirt, my knees knocked together as I let myself give in to him, just briefly, just enough so that I’d be satisfied. But it was Zane. And every kiss was better than the last. So stopping with the knowledge that he just got better and better, made me want to throw something across the room—mainly him. He smiled against my mouth. “Stop thinking so much.” “You’re a horrible influence,” I huffed, taking the lead in kissing as I tangled my hands in his hair and tugged his mouth harder against mine. With a curse, he wrapped his arms around my body and crushed me against him. None of my high school experiences had ever felt like Zane: pure, raw, masculine. I wasn’t kissing a teenage boy from the football team. He was worldly, experienced, playing me like his favorite guitar as his fingers deftly skimmed up my back and pulled off my sweatshirt, only pulling away seconds before his mouth was on mine again.

One minute I had a sweatshirt on. The next, it was magically on the floor, joining my shorts as he tugged them down. What was happening? It was like I was watching everything outside my own body. The moans coming from my throat foreign as his tongue flicked across my lower lip. Seriously, did he have a degree in kissing too? Should I ask? Was that appropriate? “You’re beautiful,” he whispered against my neck, taking his time to kiss every inch of exposed skin until I squirmed. “Don’t.” I finally caught my breath as he glanced down at me. “Don’t call me beautiful just to get me into bed.” He frowned. “Is that what you think? Seriously?” I didn’t nod. But I also didn’t answer. “Fallon.” His voice was gruff. “Tell me you don’t really think I’d lie to you just so I could sleep with you.” “Well.” I shivered and stepped away. “You do call me four eyes, and you compared my last pair of glasses to something you’d find in a donation box, so what do you expect me to think? That in the last few days you’ve suddenly developed a thing for me?” Finally thinking clearly, mainly because he wasn’t kissing me anymore but staring at me with this weird horrified expression like I’d just run over his dog or something, when clearly I was the injured party, I grabbed my sweatshirt and tossed it over my head tugging it down. “It’s fine. You just got caught up. I’m sure it happens to you all the time.” He pressed his lips together then ran his hands over the back of his head, turning around in a small circle before crossing his arms. His gaze met mine again. “So… I’m just caught up in the moment?” “Zane.” I rolled my eyes. “Stop making such a big deal about this. I’m not mad. I get it, you’re used to getting a lot of action, and I’m…” I shrugged. “Available.” I offered a small smile. “I’m honored you would stoop to my level.” He winced at my joke. “But, I’m a girl.” “I noticed,” he grit out. “And regardless of how hard I try, I will end up falling more, and that’s not fair, you know? I’m fully capable of understanding what this is between us.” “Oh?” His eyebrows shot up. “And what is it?” I shrugged. “Convenience and maybe a bit of pity.” He glared. “On your end, you pity me, which is fine. I just—it’s just not fair, and I’m pretty sure any girl in my position would hop into bed with you and take a selfie, but I’m not that girl. I think I’ve discovered

I’m more fragile than that.” Zane shook his head and then cursed out an. “Unbelievable.” “Hey!” I wagged my finger at him. “You’re the one who climbed into my window. I just don’t want to be the reason you can’t finish your album, and honestly, the only chance we have of coming out of this friends is if you keep your promise.” “And what was that?” he whispered hoarsely. “My promise?” “You said you wouldn’t seduce me.” “Hmm.” He seemed to think about that sentence way longer than necessary. “Does it work both ways, my promise?” “Huh?” “What if you seduce me?” “Uh…” I took a cautious step back. “That won’t happen.” “Sure it won’t.” He winked. “I suddenly feel so much better.” “That concerns me.” “It should.” “Zane….” “Fallon…” He grabbed my hand and kissed it. “I know you don’t believe me, but sometimes, a guy kisses a girl with pure intentions. Did you ever think that I kissed you simply because you looked pretty and I couldn’t help myself?” No. Because it was a line. I shook my head. “It would be nice.” He looked past me out the window. “Just one time, to be treated like a normal human. One who scaled a girl’s house because he wanted to see her, apologize to her, hear her voice. It would be nice, to be that guy, the one that she was waiting for. The one she didn’t reject just because she was afraid. The one she didn’t deny because she assumes things she shouldn’t.” I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. “Don’t believe everything you see or read, Fallon. I thought you were better than that.” “What are you saying?” My eyes narrowed as he dropped my hand and walked past me. “Zane?” “I’m saying,” He put one leg over the window then the next. “That things aren’t always what they seem. And I’ve never been desperate or bored enough to climb into a girl’s window and take the leap of faith by kissing her, especially with her armed father downstairs just waiting for a chance to try out his new gun.” I pressed my hands to my lips and sighed. Zane winked. “Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss.” I scowled, removing my hands. “And sometimes it’s exactly what it looks like. A guy crawling into a girl’s window in hopes for a midnight booty call.” Shock registered on his face before a smile curved the corners of his beautiful mouth. “I think

you’d be shocked to find out just how many of those I’ve had.” “Trying to keep it in the double digits, huh?” I fired back just as he climbed down and waved goodbye. Frustrated, I slammed my window shut and locked it, then stomped over to my bed and hugged a pillow. It didn’t matter what he said. Because I’d only known him a couple of days. And he was asking me to trust him, not the hundreds and thousands of media sites that painted him as this horrified virgin deflowering villain. How many girls I wondered, had fallen under the spell of his kiss, the way he made them feel like it was the first time for him too—how many? I didn’t want to be number thirty-seven or eighty-seven in a long list of women who were seduced by his insane amount of charm. I sent one last text to him. Fallon: What time tomorrow? Zane: For sex? Fallon: Very funny. What time for inspiration? Zane: Are you asking about sex again? I let out a little growl and typed furiously on my phone. Fallon: Do you need me or not? Because I have things to do. He waited a few minutes then texted back. Zane: I like doing things. I rolled my eyes and glared up at the ceiling. Great, now I had to make up a thing I needed to do. Fallon: Shopping for…clothes. Zane: I love shopping.

Had to admit, he was persistent in every area of his life. With a sigh, I typed back. Fallon: Fine, but no kissing, no touching, no seducing, none of the above. We go as friends or co-workers or something. Zane: Did you really just co-worker me? I smirked down at my phone. Zane: Four eyes, we cleaned bathrooms together, I HELPED YOU DISPOSE OF A CONDOM, is this all our relationship means to you? Co-workers? I giggled and turned off my light as the phone buzzed again. Zane: You may as well call me your “acquaintance” when making introductions, even though I’ve tasted you—numerous times. Fallon: Stop! Zane: At least three times now? Right? Or is it two? By the way, did you know that you taste amazing? I may write a song about it, strawberries and cotton candy, damn, I could go for those right now. You may even be better than marshmallows. Fallon: BLASPHEMY! Zane: Don’t yell, they’ll hear you. I tucked my phone under my pillow only to hear it buzz again. Zane: Let me take you shopping. Fallon: Are you pulling a Pretty Woman on me, Mr. Gere? Zane: Well, I am rich.

Fallon: Should I be charging more????? Zane: Hilarious. I’ll pick you up in the morning, bring snacks, this could take a while. I’ve been in your closet. Rejection washed over me. See! I knew it! He was kissing me because I was convenient! Not because he found me even the least bit attractive. Zane: Though my vote will always be no clothes, you have killer legs, you know that right? BTW I wouldn’t say no to a few scantily clad pictures—just to get me through the night. I Googled a picture of a marshmallow and edited it to put a bikini top on it then sent it. Zane: I think I just orgasmed. Fallon: There’s more where that came from. Zane: Talk dirty to me—wait let me get comfortable—shirt’s off, I’m ready, hit me with it. I grabbed a few more pictures of s’mores and sent them over. Zane: Oh baby…That’s the spot. I think—I’m—going to— His text ended. Two minutes went by. Fallon: Did you die? Zane: No, I got hungry then felt awkward eating food porn, so I stole Jay’s Lucky Charms. Hey, since we’re sending dirty texts I think we should have phone sex, you know, to make it not weird that you were just sending me pictures of marshmallows. What are you wearing again? Fallon: Nice try.

I yawned and smiled down at my phone. AH! Why did he have to be so funny? Zane: I’m naked. My breath hitched, and my mind shot to the visual of him dropping the blanket. Bad Fallon. Bad Fallon. With trembling fingers, I typed out. Fallon: Naked in bed with marshmallows? I may be jealous. Zane: I did offer to share… Fallon: I’m pretty sure our ideas of sharing are different. Zane: Doubtful. After all, you did kiss me back. Damn it, just think of all those places my tongue didn’t get to explore! Cruel woman. Fallon: I can’t believe you just said that! Zane: I HAD PLANS! Fallon: I’m sure you did. Zane: I guess the marshmallows will have to hold me over until then. Fallon: Then? Zane: When you let me keep you in my arms for longer than a few minutes—when I’m yours to keep right back. The conversation had shifted. And I didn’t know what to do. My heart was trying in vain to pump out of my chest while my fingers hovered over the phone. What was I supposed to say back? Finally, I managed to get a text out.

Fallon: One day you’ll find the marshmallow for you ;) Zane: What if I already did? Abort! I needed to stop talking to him. Zane: I’m making you uncomfortable. You don’t know me. I get it. But give it time, pretty soon you’ll have everything about me memorized, maybe by then your judgment won’t be clouded by what you see on the internet and you’ll see me, just me. Fallon: And who is Zane Andrews? He didn’t reply back right away. Zane: Sometimes, I think, he’s still the scared little boy who was abandoned by his sisters and dropped off in foster care when the love of his life died. I gasped. Fallon: I had no idea. I’m so sorry. Zane: Everyone’s sorry. It doesn’t change the fact that it happened. Fallon: I know. Zane: Tomorrow. Don’t forget. And if you don’t bring marshmallows, I’m eating you. Your choice.

Chapter Twenty Zane I SLEPT LIKE SHIT

most of the night, tossing and turning as nightmares haunted me as if I was

experiencing them all over again. “Come on, Zane.” She giggled. “What’s the big deal? Touch me.” “I’m busy.” I yawned and snagged my AP Psych book in an attempt to put some distance between me and Cassie, just another girl in a blur of girls whose only goal in life was to get me to jump between her thighs. But I didn’t have time for that life. I ran the entire way to the house I’d been living in for the past three months. Rejection heated my face as I ducked and tried to run up the stairs. “Zane!” Mrs. Angel shouted my name with glee. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Great. When wasn’t she waiting for me? “Come have a snack!” “I ate.” Silence and then. “I provide a roof over your head, the least you can do is try my chocolate chip cookies. I made them just for you.” Yeah, I bet she did. I avoided eye contact as I hurriedly jogged into the kitchen and tried to swipe a cookie off the plate only to have my foster mom, the seventh I’d had in the past ten years, place her hand on mine and giggle. “There, there, isn’t that better?” She was high again. I slumped my shoulders and begrudgingly sat on the chair, irritated that I was going to have to stay up until she passed out and make sure the rest of the kids got their homework done. It was a vicious cycle. She tried to touch me. I avoided her like the plague. Until I agreed to go to her bedroom with her, only to tuck her into bed and leave. Bile rose up in my throat as her fingertips danced up my forearm. “You’re growing up so much.” “Almost eighteen.” I muttered snatching my arm away. “You should make these cookies for my birthday.” I took another huge bite. “They’re good!”

“I have lots of good to offer.” Her eyes darkened just as the screen door slammed. “Zane!” Phillip lunged for my lap then with a huge jump landed in my arms and swiped my cookie, it was in his mouth before I could even utter a hello. “I missed you.” Mrs. Angel, as she had us call her, reared back and pretended to be arranging the cookies on the plate, but we both knew what she had been doing, again, since the first day of my arrival. She, like every other female in my life, wanted something from me. Something of the sexual nature. Sometimes I wondered if it was my fault. Was I too nice? Too polite? Grandma had taught me to be all of those things. “Phillip.” Mrs. Angel clapped her hands. “Why don’t you wash your hands while Zane helps me upstairs really quick. I’m tired.” Phillip jumped off my lap and made a beeline for the bathroom while Mrs. Angel narrowed her gaze on me. Sighing, I grabbed her outstretched hand and walked her up the creaky stairs and into her dark bedroom. The blinds were drawn. It smelled like cigarette smoke and sweat. I stuffed one hand in my pocket, grasping the marshmallow I’d stuffed in there after lunchtime. It was the one thing that Mrs. Angel did right. She bought marshmallows, but sometimes I had to save them for days, making them hard, impossible to eat, but at least I could grasp it, know that as long as I had the marshmallows, Grandma was there with me. “Tuck me in, Zane?” Mrs. Angel winked, pulling her ratty blonde hair back into a ponytail. On the outside, she was the perfect foster parent. A nurse by day and a fantastic mother to six foster boys at night, her husband was a cop. They were perfect. The perfect family. In an old ranch house in Texas. The agency called us the lucky ones. And maybe, the other boys were, we had acres and acres of land to roam on, but I wasn’t lucky. I had never been lucky. Because she was a bored housewife with a job that left her too much access to pills. And her husband had been cheating on her for ten years. Which left me. The eye candy. Her ticket to pleasure.

Or so she thought. “Zane,” She pouted, her red lips pressed together in a smirk. “I won’t bite.” I quickly pushed her toward the bed and very crassly shoved her in then pulled covers over her. “Stay.” She grabbed my hand. “No.” I jerked back. “You need an older woman…” “No.” I licked my lips. “I need a mom.” Her face paled. “So if you can’t at least be that to me, then we have nothing more to say.” “Don’t be a little bitch.” She scowled. “It’s just sex.” “Then why are you so upset about it?” I said as gently as possible. “If it was just sex, you should laugh it off, move on. Don’t use me to make you feel better.” With a furious yell, she reached up and slammed her hand against my face. “You piece of shit! How DARE you talk to me that way!” I stumbled back, just as the door slammed downstairs. “Tawny?” Bill was home, her husband, my foster dad. “Tawny you okay?” Her eyes narrowed in on me, and then with venom in her expression she tore at her own shirt revealing cleavage and pulled down her bra then burst into tears. Dumbstruck I stayed on the ground. It happened in slow motion. Bill walking in the room. Seeing the state of his sobbing wife. Me on the floor, looking guilty as hell. Luck shifted. Lucky to be alive after such a beating. Lucky my face didn’t break in half. Lucky. Lucky. Lucky. Lucky to spend the last three months of my seventeen years, at an orphanage. Lucky. That on my eighteenth birthday. I no longer belonged to the state. Lucky. That I spent the very first night of my freedom, sleeping under a bridge with the rats. Lucky.

I was so damn lucky. I kicked the wall with my shoe and fumbled for more marshmallows, cursing my entire existence as my hands shook, fingers trembling as memories continued to replay over and over in my head. I had no idea what brought them on. Just that I hated them. I hated me. I didn’t find out until two years later, at one of my first concerts —Phillip had grown into a good-looking fifteen-year-old. And she’d hurt him too. Only this time, justice was served. Because Phillip turned her in. Stomach recoiling, I ran into the bathroom and puked up marshmallow like I was hung over, then wiped my mouth. My phone buzzed. My agent’s number flashed across the screen. I hit ignore. He called two more times before finally texting. Persistent. Brees: Where are the songs? You’ve sent me two. We need twelve more for a full album. Call me. With a sigh, I texted back. Saint: I’m doing some mind cleansing today and will get the next four songs to you by tonight, I’ll stop at the studio. Brees: Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole, but you need to get your shit together. I’ve given you time. The record company has given you time. The whole damn world has given you time. Now get it done. Saint: Heard you loud and clear. Brees: Good. I was tempted to throw my phone against the wall. Instead, I quickly put on clothes and grabbed a bag of marshmallows before running out the door. There was only one thing that would make me feel even marginally better about my shit night. And unfortunately, she thought I was a complete player, a man whore of the first order, president

of the slut club. Great, just great. I avoided needy women all my life only to find one who doesn’t need me—hell, if anything I needed her more. I needed something. I couldn’t blame my foster mom for wanting love. I was jaded enough to get it—for just one split second, it was tempting, and then I felt the marshmallow in my pocket, it had been hard from being stuffed there all day. Grandma would be horrified. I would be horrified. It wasn’t worth it. My love was worth more than that, I had more to give than that—I had everything. The only problem? I’d never found anyone, who really wanted it, scars, past and all.

Chapter Twenty-One Fallon “SO, CANON BEACH HMM ?” Mom’s eyes penetrated through to my guilty little soul. Because for the past

few days, I’d convinced both parents that Zane’s visits meant nothing. Right. Dinner with my parents five nights in a row. Nothing. Coffee with my mom because he just happened to be hanging out in the neighborhood and noticed she was out of creamer? Nothing. Nothing at all. “Yup.” I blew out an exasperated breath. She was still staring at me, her eyes boring into my body like she was trying to create little holes through my skin. Finally, I turned around. “Just say it.” “What?” She couldn’t lie to save her life. “Whatever it is you have to say.” I checked my phone. “He’s picking me up in five minutes.” “He’s been over a lot.” Her casual tone wasn’t fooling me, not one bit. “Are you sure this is still a friendship?” “Of course.” I rolled my eyes. “Mom, he’s a rockstar.” “That rockstar offered to go hunting with your dad.” “He was cornered!” I threw my hands into the air. “It was either hunt or be hunted!” Mom burst out laughing. “Oh honey, you’re father ’s not that good of a shot, just tell Zane to zigzag.” “Good talk mom.” I tried walking past her, but she reached out and gently grabbed my hand. I paused. “Just be careful,” she whispered. “I like him. So does your dad, it’s just…we don’t want to see you hurt when he leaves.” And there it was. The reminder. That my “friend” would leave me. Honestly, I should be thankful that he was going before I was too attached, but all I could do was stare at the stupid spot he’d sat at our dinner table the night before and wonder what it would feel like when it was empty for longer than twenty-four hours. When he forgot me. When he returned to his fabulous life.

I shivered at the thought just as a horn honked outside. “Bye, mom.” I kissed her on the cheek and went out to meet my friend. Just a friend. A really hot one. Sexy. Oh, who am I kidding. Zane waved and then flashed me a grin. Friend my ass.

SOMETHING WAS WRONG.

He was fidgety, his smiles forced. And when I started talking about his music, he completely shut down, his face a mask of indifference, like he didn’t care about anything, not even the fact that I was complimenting him on the lyrics to his newest love song. Finally, after two hours of shopping in downtown Canon Beach, I snapped. “What’s your problem today?” Zane blinked over at me, his ice cream cone melting all over his right hand. “Huh?” “You have marshmallows.” I pointed. “On your ice cream.” Another blink. “Okay?” “And you let them fall to the ground, like at least four marshmallows lost their lives on your watch, and you just let it happen!” A smile cracked through his indifferent façade. “Fallon, listen to me very carefully. Marshmallows?” His blue eyes twinkled. “They don’t have souls, ergo, if one falls onto the ground, it’s not going to hell.” “Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “Because that was my concern, their salvation.” I handed him a napkin. “It’s wasteful.” “Why do you care?” he snapped, I could tell it surprised him because his eyes widened before he hung his head and mumbled out, “Sorry.” He took the napkin and slowly cleaned off his hand then, the shock of all shocks, tossed his entire cone into the trash and put on his sunglasses. “Wow,” Suddenly sick to my stomach, I threw mine away and wiped my sticky hands, “Is this about yesterday?”

Zane tilted his head. “Yesterday?” “Last night,” I whispered, as heat stormed my cheeks. “Look, I told you I was sorry okay? I’m not wired that way. I can’t just sleep with you then cheer happily when you get your next Grammy. Do you realize how bad it would suck to tell my grandkids, oh look that guy? The one in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? We had one great night together.” He didn’t speak for a really long time, just stared at me with his jaw hanging open, his black RayBans only showing me my own pissed off reflection. “You really think you’d tell your grandkids about me?” “That?” I threw my hands upward. “That’s what you fixate on?” “Well…” He shrugged. “It’s kind of a big deal.” “I don’t see how.” He stood quickly, nearly bumping into me as he crowded my space with his nearness. I refused to back away or run, even though both sounded like stellar options. “It means you’d remember me.” “You would be hard to forget.” “You mean that.” He said it like he was in awe or something. “Of course I mean it. And before you go getting all arrogant, it’s a compliment. Okay? Something people say to other people, so they realize how great they really are. Which brings us back to the main topic of discussion. Right now you get this.” I held out my hand. “You get friendship. Now shake on it, and get out of this weird funk. It’s freaking me out and ruining your happy-go-lucky vibe. Meaning, if you keep acting like someone killed your dog, you aren’t going to be creative enough to even write a chord let alone a few more songs.” His smile grew, his hand wrapped around mine. “I’m sorry, Fallon.” He sounded sincere, my eyes narrowed. “A real apology?” Somehow, he went from shaking my hand to wrapping an arm around my body as we walked back to the car. “I did think about last night.” He stopped walking and faced me. “Up until I fell asleep.” His hand went from warm and strong to clammy as he tried to tug it away, there was a story there, something he wasn’t telling me. “And?” I prodded. “And, none of your damn business,” he said in a cheerful tone that told me it was okay to push, maybe not a lot, but more than I was. We bypassed the car and started walking out toward the beach. It was big enough that he wouldn’t be noticed; at least I hoped not. I knew an area that had a few secluded caves. If the tide was out then we would at least have a bit of privacy, which he needed. Sometimes I needed it too. Life was like that. No matter your age or experiences, everyone needed a breather. Everyone. We walked in silence, occasionally jumping over the small streams of ocean water. Finally, as the

wind howled around us through the rocks, we made it to the first cave, and then around the cove. I sat down first. He followed. Wind whistled in an eerie cadence as sand danced around our bodies, most likely getting into every crevice possible. But he was already more relaxed. Visibly, he had more color. Though he’d gone from pissed to defeated. “I had some bad dreams.” “I used to have night terrors,” I offered. “They sucked, my parents would come running into the room thinking I was getting murdered, only to find me wide-eyed, on the floor, screaming at the top of my lungs.” “That’s terrifying.” “Tell me about it.” “Don’t you grow out of that?” “I did.” I shrugged. “Around eight or nine, which even then, it’s rare to have them that late in life.” He frowned down at the ground. “Did you remember the dreams?” “Never.” “I remember mine.” I held my breath, my chest built with pressure as it swelled inside my body, threatening to shake my careful control, I steeled my expression. “Last night’s? Do you remember it?” He gave a silent nod. “Are we talking nightmare where you’re getting chased by a giant marshmallow—you know, something that won’t ever happen—or something real?” “Real.” He swallowed, his hands started to shake like the day before, only this time, I knew he wanted comfort—not a sugar fix. So I held Zane Andrews’ hand. Like I was important. Like I was enough to keep him grounded. And he squeezed it back—like that was true. I stopped digging. Instead, I focused on our hands, on the warmth of our bodies touching, and wished that we were two different people, that he was just a boy and I was just a girl. Both going to college. Both ready to start their lives. Apart? And maybe together.

It would be nice. Better than nice. It would be everything. “I was in seven foster homes,” Zane whispered. “After my grandma died.” A thousand emotions slammed into me at his disclosure. I gathered them all and pushed them down, refusing to let them show on my face. It was hard, and eventually I looked away, worried something would show. “Well, that completely sucks.” He shrugged. “I was a good student. So as long as I had a bed to sleep in…” Another shrug. “They don’t like splitting up families, but after she died, it didn’t matter anymore.” “What do you mean?” “Girls always liked me, gave me attention, I ignored them, focusing on music to get me through the night, and school to get me through the day.” He squeezed my hand, I looked up. “I think it turned into a game, the more I turned them down, the more they wanted me.” Yeah, I could only imagine. “Is that why you do what you do?” “Pardon?” He pulled off his sunglasses; his eyes worked like laser beams, tracking my every movement. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, I cleared my throat and tried to keep the teasing in my tone. “You know, the sleeping around, is that why you do it? The whole Saint thing, the Confess Your Sins tour —” “Someone really needs to take the power of Google away from you.” I laughed. “Until you, the only thing I think I’d ever typed into the search engine was how to not fail biology.” “Too bad I didn’t know you last year. I could have rocked that course for you.” I warmed all over with awareness. “Yeah, I’m sure.” “And what does the tour name have to do with anything? With me?” My eyebrows shot up. “Zane, the hashtag #zanewatch has been trending for the past year. And the pictures associated, you kissing girls, you touching girls, them touching you, with more hashtags of confessions, even the girls who have been with you say you’re the best they’ve ever had.” He burst out laughing. “What!” I laughed with him. “I mean I’m sure it’s good for your ego.” “You have no idea, how good. Gives a man confidence and all that.” His head fell back as he laughed harder. “Wow, those little liars.” I frowned, my smile fading. “What do you mean?” “I don’t know, Fallon. I mean, who knows, you may tell your grandchildren one day…” I slugged him in the arm.

“Ouch!” He chuckled darkly as I kept pounding him in the arm. “Fine, fine, I’ll confess one sin, but you have to confess one first.” “Ugh, you suck.” He winked. This was why Zane was magnetic, why people were obsessed, because he made you feel like you were his world, not just a part of it. “Okay, my confession is—” “Make it good or it doesn’t count,” he sang in a taunting voice. I shushed him and closed my eyes. “Oh wow, things just got real folks, the eyes are closed.” I burst out laughing and then took a deep breath. “Okay, my confession,” I stole a peek at his expression, he was leaning forward expectantly. “I’m terrified of animals.” I sighed. “I mean that’s not why I don’t eat them, but seriously, they terrify me, birds, bees…” I shuddered. “Antelope.” “Who the hell is scared of an antelope?” I cringed. “They have horns.” I pointed to my head and made a gagging noise. “And I mean, it’s just not normal, the look animals get in their eyes. Like they know things.” His expression sobered and then he burst out laughing so hard a tear fell down his face. “Okay, that’s it.” I tried to stand. “We can’t be friends anymore.” “Sit down.” He tugged my arm, but I wasn’t able to catch myself, so instead I fell against his chest, my legs sliding on either side of his body in a perfect straddle. I shuddered. Ugh, my physical response to him was ever so helpful. His grin grew as I felt his arousal through his skintight jeans. Sorry, Grandma. Sorry that I loved the feel of him. That I loved the fact that it was me! I did that to him. To Zane Andrews. He moved his hips a bit. I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t moan and make a complete fool out of myself, as he braced himself with his elbows and leaned upward. “My turn?” I nodded. He locked eyes with me, a flicker of emotion crossed his face, emotion that looked like doubt— fear. “It’s not real.” “What’s not real?” “I’m Saint, care to confess your sins?” he asked in his dark, sultry voice. Then he shrugged, completely back into character. “The girls. The tweets. The pictures. The photo shoots. If people see that I’m that way, then I control it, they want the sinner with the name of saint. They don’t want the guy

who goes home early after concerts and works or crashes, they don’t want the guy who watches reality TV and eats too many marshmallows. The world demands good guys—yet the good guys never win. The bad guys? The monsters? The alphas? The players? They’re glorified, we glorify them. Therefore, my agent created a persona, and I went with it, because it works for my brand, it works for me, but it’s not really me.” I frowned. “So none of it is real? But there are pictures and—“ “You see what I want you to see. You see what my brand wants you to see, a guy who loves women possibly too much, who relishes in the bad, and looks so damn good doing it, it must be okay. You see Saint Andrews, the popstar.” “Then who are you? Really?” He hesitated, then reached up and brushed a kiss across my cheek. “Zane Andrews, the virgin.”

Chapter Twenty-Two Fallon WAVES CRASHED INTO THE rocky shore. Seagulls screeched in the distance.

I stared. “Are you going to pass out or something?” Zane whispered, “Because my other confession is I don’t know CPR well enough to save you from the birds before they start feeding off your cute little body.” I gasped and then stumbled backwards with a horrified expression. “I’m the most horrible person on this planet.” “Fallon—” “I am.” Tears clogged in my throat. “I just assumed, like everyone else, and you let me, but I mean what were you supposed to do and—” My head pounded, and I struggled for breath. “I’ve been basically accusing you of being a complete slut to your face for the past two weeks.” He winced. “Right, but in your defense, you didn’t know.” “No!” I stood and started pacing. “Don’t take it easy on me. I’ve always taken pride in being one of those people, the kind that don’t judge, that just accept people as they are, but I’m a complete hypocrite!” “Stop pacing, the sand ants might get you.” Zane crossed his arms and yawned, while I started jumping into the air and slamming my feet against the sand in an effort to kill them all. “Or you could just scare them, so they willingly sacrifice their lives via a flip-flop earthquake.” “Are they on me? Are any on me?” I screamed running around in a circle while trying to shake the sand out of my clothes. “Yeah, like five hundred. We may have to burn your clothes. Well, sorry to say this, Fallon, but you need to strip.” I stopped and glared. “You’re not funny.” “I’m hilarious.” He winked. “Now where are we on the whole stripping thing?” I shuddered as I looked down at my arm and of course, one ant, one tiny ant was crawling toward my face, it was enough to make me scream all over again, this time launching myself in Zane’s direction. “Get it off!” “Whoa!” He backed up while I flailed my arm in front of his face. “GET IT OFF!” I yelled louder, my arm sailing into his nose, I heard a crunching noise before he cursed and fell to the ground holding his face. “Oh, no!” I fell to my knees and grabbed his arm. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

He tilted his head back. “I’m pretty sure you just punched me in the face over an ant.” “I think it was…red.” Like my face. Lame excuse. His eyes teared up as he blinked a few times then narrowed his gaze on me. “You do realize I went from confessing one of my biggest secrets in the world to you, to getting punched in the face, all within the span of three minutes, doesn’t really bode well for this friendship, right?” “Sorry.” I cringed. “But you were the one who said something about ants!” “Because the minute I told you I was a virgin you couldn’t get away quick enough!” he shouted back. “Because that makes you too perfect!” I matched his voice, shoving my body against his. “You aren’t allowed to be a virgin too! It’s not fair! Maybe that’s why I punched you! It’s the universe’s way of getting even!” “The hell it is!” he roared and then winced. “I’m being punished for having self-control, is that it?” He spread his arms wide and then lay back against the sand. “May as well let the ants take me.” “That’s suicide,” I joked. “We had some good times.” Zane closed his eyes and smirked. “But I think I’ll take my chances with the ants, at least they want to touch me.” “I think any woman with the ability to breathe and at least chase you down, wants to touch you.” “Ah, the man becomes the antelope, the woman the lion.” “Yes.” I laughed. “Exactly where I was going with that analogy.” “Well, at least I like antelope.” “Have you ever even met one?” I rolled my eyes and lay against his chest. My hand found his, he squeezed. “Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t meet antelope, you discover them in the wild, and I can attest to them being completely friendly. Clearly, it’s the ants you need to worry about. And the local girls with glasses who somehow know how to pack a punch in tiny little bodies.” “Sorry.” I cringed, ducking my head into his chest further. “But look? I’m lying down with you and the ants.” “It’s almost like Romeo and Juliet, both willing to die for one another.” “Yes.” I laughed against his chest. “Exactly like that.” “Come bitter conduct! Come unsavory guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on. The dashing rocks thy seasick, weary bark! Here’s to my love. O true apothecary!” “Thy drugs are quick,” I added in a hoarse whisper as Zane leaned down, tilting my chin toward his lips. “Thus,” he whispered gruffly. “With a kiss…I die.” And Zane Andrews kissed me. Again.



Chapter Twenty-Three Zane I WAS KISSING HER again.

It was becoming a thing, just like casual hand holding, or touching her, my lips had this insane mad desire to taste hers—and I watched myself, the self-control, the insecurity of people using me for their own selfish reasons, slowly slip away with each piece of myself I gave—each piece she took. Because that’s what kissing was. Personal. Intimate. A very real way to share your feelings about someone without actually saying them—I was a wordsmith, it was my job to make people believe with my words that I was in love with them, that I was in love with love. But my lips? They had always been mine. My virginity, mine. They couldn’t take it—because I refused to give it. Nobody should ever feel like they have to give pieces of themselves in order to gain love, security, acceptance, I knew that better than anyone did—because I’d had to grow up without all of the above. Until finally, I was given it right along with fame. But like so many things, it was reserved for when my albums sold, when I made people money. It wasn’t real. Until now. Now it felt real. In her arms, it was beginning to feel too real. “Zane.” Fallon pulled away, her black glasses askew on her face, a few freckles made themselves known, just adding to her cute face. “You probably need to stop quoting Shakespeare and kissing me on the beach if you want to stay friends.” “Wise words,” I said in a gruff voice, kissing her softly one more time before pulling back. “Would you believe me if I said that my self-control was finally waning?” “No.” Her cheeks flushed. “Why?” “Because a guy like you doesn’t wait twenty-three years in order to find someone worthy of every

single piece of him—to suddenly offer it up to some legally blind local girl with a fear of ants.” “Red ants,” I clarified. “Yes.” She puffed up her cheeks and exhaled slowly. “Red ants.” “I disagree.” “About the ants?” She frowned. “About the girl.” “Zane don’t—” “Some might say it’s our fears that make us unique, different, special.” “My fear of ants makes me stand out? Is that what you’re saying?” She stood and offered her hand, I took it and stood along with her, dusting sand off my body while she pulled her hair into a messy bun and crossed her arms. “What if I wanted that?” I asked, a bit afraid of her answer. “What?” “Everything.” I grabbed her hands. “What if I asked you for everything?” She released my hands and swallowed. “I’d have to say no.” “Have to? Or want to?” “Have to.” I reached for her again, just as a loud scream pierced the air and then another and another. “Shit,” I muttered, jerking my hand back, out of fear that someone would snap a picture and create pure hell for her, but I don’t think she saw it that way. Instead, she flinched, as if I was rejecting her when she was the one doing that exact thing to me not more than ten seconds ago. “SAINT! SAINT! SAINT!” Chanting started, and sure enough, about seven or eight girls swarmed around the bend and into our little alcove. I reached into my pocket and crunched some marshmallows between my fingers, struggling to keep a smile frozen on my face, but really, I would rather hold her hand, I’d rather she anchor me than sugar. And that was my first mistake. Relying on a person? Always was. Because once you love them—you risk losing them. At least marshmallows—were always there. As stupid as it sounded, they were always available, and Fallon? She was currently walking away. From me. From anything to do with me. And I had to wonder if she cared that part of my heart cracked in half in a desperate attempt to join her.



“SOMEONE’S IN A SHITTY mood.” Demetri whistled under his breath while strumming a few chords of the song I’d just delivered, on time, might I add, for the soundtrack. I glared, but said nothing, just abandoned my guitar and walked over to the baby grand and started playing the song. Alec whistled. “I like it.” I nodded, still not trusting my voice to speak. I was too angry. A lot defeated. And probably just as confused as she was. We were friends, right? So why abandon me on the beach? I found her an hour later by the car waiting, as if she hadn’t just left me to the fans, by myself. When I asked if she was afraid I would freak out again answered with one word. “No.” Followed by one-word answers for every subsequent question. Did she have fun? Yes. Any ant bites? No. Did she still want to be friends? Yes. Lame. That last one was lame, but her smiles were forced, and she just seemed…sad. I wanted the happy girl on the beach, the one who had punched me in the face and apologized for slut shaming me. I wanted that girl. No one else. And she didn’t want me back. “Easy on the keys man,” Alec whispered gruffly. Her smile had been polite, her thank you hollow, and when I squeezed her hand after dropping her off at her house, she’d pulled away and said good luck with recording. That was it, like break a leg! Kill it, Saint!

“Shit, I think he’s going to break the piano.” Demetri muttered. “Should we get Jay?” She sounded like my freaking manager or agent. I had those. What I needed was someone I could share souls with—someone I could open up to, be insecure with, laugh with, cry with. I pounded the piano harder and harder. Damn it. I needed someone to be angry with! I’d messed up by telling her, I knew I shouldn’t have, but she kept pushing and pushing and all I kept thinking was, if I tell her, then this is it. That’s it. I’ll be moving forward. Because limbo sucks. “Well, at least he’s channeling his emotions.” Came a new voice in the studio. “I was beginning to worry his next song was going to sound like a One Direction reject.” “Blasphemy.” Alec said in a bored tone while Demetri hissed. With a sigh, I looked up from the piano and let out a string of curses that would have made any sinner proud. “Will.” I ignored his look of irritation and glanced back down at the piano and started the song over again. “Has he been like this long?” Will asked. “Right here.” I said over my own loud playing. “You want an album? You want a song? I’ll give you a damn song.” And that’s when I started to sing. Instead of feeling and letting the feeling dictate the sound of the keys as I played, I sang. And it was… “Perfection,” Alec said behind me, and then a guitar joined, and Demetri’s higher voice added the perfect harmony. “Did you know you lost me tonight?” I crooned. “Leave you, like you left me, just walk away, you always walk away. Take my life away, take my bleeding heart, I’ll allow it.” I breathed. “I allow the pain, I allow the pain, Allow it.” The tempo picked up. “Did you know you lost me tonight? I’ll allow it, a thousand times, I’ll allow it.” Alec joined in with both of us on the melody. “Walk away, tonight, walk away, I’ll allow it.” I stopped playing, chest heaving, as I stared down at my hands. The music stopped. The room was silent, and then Demetri added. “Guys, I think someone broke Zane.” “Good.” Will, the son of a bitch, said from the sound booth. “He needed breaking.”

I flipped him off, hating that he was right, hating that he was probably the only agent in the universe that truly understood my pain, my process, my past. “Now,” Will’s voice was commanding. “Do it again.”

Chapter Twenty-Four Fallon “ARE YOU SICK?” MAGS leaned forward and pressed her palm to my forehead. “Hmm, you feel warm.” I shoved her hand away. “You don’t even know what you’re doing.” She held up her hands and then reached for her coffee, chewing on the lid like it was a straw. “You know, you’ve been on edge for the past week.” One week. ONE full week of no Zane. No texts. Nothing. And in my gut, I knew it was partially my fault. I’d walked away, he’d shared a part of himself with me, a part that nobody knew, and I’d walked away. Because he scared me, his intensity scared me, he was a forever guy, now more than ever. I shuddered, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. “You were happy,” Mags pointed out. “Until your little excursion with our fun little popstar on the beach.” I jerked my head up. “How did you even know about that?” She rolled her eyes. “You really need to subscribe to more gossip magazines or at least pay attention when you check out at the grocery store.” She held up her finger and scrolled through her phone then pointed the screen at me. “Zane and his new love interest in Cannon Beach love nest.” “Huh.” I frowned. “Love nest? Clever.” “Right?” Mags shook her head. “The article says you’re going to be having his love child in about six months.” I glanced down. “So I look three months pregnant?” “Maybe stop eating your feelings…” she joked. I rolled my eyes and tried not to pout, but the sick feeling remained, I wanted to puke, because I’d lost a friend, a good friend, and it was my fault. “Ugh…” I leaned over the table and pressed my forehead against the cool metal. “I’m so stupid.” “Ahhh, so he slept with you, you freaked and ran out?” “Hah.” I licked my lips. “No, that would be impossible.” “The freaking out part or the running part?” “The sex part.” “It’s Zane Andrews.” Mags said slowly. “He sleeps with anything that walks and proclaims itself to have a vagina.”

“Gross.” I prickled with irritation. “And that’s not true.” “Oh, no.” Her smile was sad as she reached across the table and patted my hand. “He’s got you in his web of sex, doesn’t he? Let me guess, you get to be his new submissive, all you have to do is sign a really long and inappropriate contract?” I knew she was joking. But it still stung. I was literally offended on his behalf. How did he deal with it every day? The constant jabs at his character. “He’s not like that.” I whispered. “Not at all.” “Oh, honey.” Mags sighed. “Look, I know you see the best in everyone—” “Mags, seriously, he’s not.” I didn’t know how else to say it. She moved from her seat across from me and wrapped an arm around my body in a hug. “The truth doesn’t lie, my poor innocent sex starved friend. He’s a whore.” “No, he’s not!” I jerked away from her. “Trust me when I say, he hasn’t slept with anyone…for…a while.” “A day?” She joked. “An hour? Five minutes?” “Ever!” I blurted. “Okay? So just, can we drop it? He’s a good guy, and it pisses me off to hear people talk about him like he isn’t.” “What?” She blinked wide-eyed at me with a frozen expression on her face. “What do you mean… ever?” “Forget it.” I shook my head. “And if you say anything I’ll hate you forever.” “Whoa.” She slumped down into her seat. “Either he’s lying to you, or…” I leaned against her, the coffee shop was mostly abandoned. It used to be my favorite place to go in Seaside when it was rainy out; something about it felt warm and comforting, but right now? It just felt empty without him. “I like him,” I whispered. “A lot.” “A lot a lot or just a lot?” “A lot a lot.” I groaned. “And I walked away from him.” Mags smacked me on the back of the head. “Why the hell would you do that?” “Because.” I removed my glasses and shakily put them back on, only to have her frown and pull them off my face then drop them onto the ground and literally crunch them to pieces beneath her boot. “Oops.” “MAGS!” I yelled. “THAT WAS MY LAST PAIR!” “Nope.” She stood and grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet. “You know my dad’s your eye doctor, and I happen to know he has a pretty empty schedule this morning. We’re going to get you contacts.”

“But—” “Not for all the time, because I know it’s still hard for you to touch your own eye, but we’re going to do a mini makeover. Who knows? Maybe it will make you brave.” “I need more than new contacts to make me brave.” “I know.” Mags grinned smugly. “What are best friends for?” “You had that same look in your eyes before you pushed me off the boardwalk.” “Exactly.” She nodded. “So trust me.” “I trusted you then, and ended up in a tabloid.” “I don’t see the problem here.” She giggled and shoved me toward the blurry door. “After the contacts, we’re texting him to meet you on the beach. At the bonfire.” “What bonfire?” “Keep up!” She cackled, and I had no choice but to either follow or get hit by oncoming traffic.

I KNEW I SHOULDN’T have listened to her.

But listen I did. All it took was five hours for Mags to lose her mind and mine right along with it because I was actually starting to feel better. And all she did was crunch my glasses, give me a trendier pair and contacts to go with. The hardest part was getting the contacts in, but once my eyes stopped watering, I liked what I saw. And the fact that I could actually see was a huge plus as well. “You have huge eyes.” Mags wrapped an arm around me as we walked out of one of the shops. “I never knew until now, but it’s a totally good thing, they’re really pretty.” “Thanks.” I smiled up at her and then rolled my eyes. “You’re waiting for me to say you were right, aren’t you?” “Eh, I don’t need you to say it, I know in here.” She pounded her chest and then gave me a playful shove. “Now go put on that cute little black sundress and ankle boots.” “It’s forty degrees,” I pointed out. “And raining.” “It’s always forty degrees and raining. That’s our winter.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s why we got the sweater to go with.” I hesitated, the bag still in hand. We were at her beach house right next to the Prom, which just so happened to be next to the bonfire we were apparently having later that night. “Do it.” She clapped her hands. I slipped the dress over my head, it wasn’t like it was out of my comfort zone to wear a dress, I

mean I wore dresses, just not often, so it wasn’t makeover the frumpy girl day. Dresses just seemed inconvenient. But boots, I loved boots. Those were an easy buy for me. And makeup? Eh, I added some lip-gloss and mascara and just went with it. Finally, finishing my outfit with a black and white striped beanie to cover my unruly wavy brown hair. “Chic.” She winked. “Okay, now run along, catch your man.” “You’re not coming?” “The bonfire is already set up, I told my brother I’d do the dishes for a month if he made the fire extra big and got the giant bag of marshmallows.” “A MONTH? You hate doing dishes.” “I crossed my fingers behind my back.” She winked again. “Now go!” I took a deep breath and walked out the front door, ready to apologize, ready to accept anything, even if it was just friendship. With high hopes that the dress would at least be a distraction from the norm so he’d be more likely to say yes. Nerves attacked me when I thought about how I’d lied to my parents about staying the night with Mags. Well, technically it was true. I was going to stay with her after I hung out with Zane—but if he offered—if he wanted to hang out all night and watch the waves, I wasn’t going to say no. Not to him. Not anymore. And I think a part of my mom realized that, when I walked out the door that afternoon and told her my plans, she was quiet for a few minutes before finally nodding and telling me to be safe. Well. Here went nothing!

Chapter Twenty-Five Zane I TOOK A BREAK from her, not because I was still angry or even upset, but because suddenly the music

wouldn’t stop coming. I turned to music, as I always did, only this time, it wasn’t my savior. It was my sanity. The more I sang, the more grounded I felt. The more grounded I felt, the more I thought about things from her perspective. And I felt like a dick. Because what did I expect? To sweep her off her feet and tell her that despite what millions of people around the world said about me—it wasn’t true. I wanted her. Yet, look at any Google search of my name. And I was at the Grammys with supermodels. Supermodels who thought a full meal was an ounce of almonds and a bite of cheese. I was asking a lot for someone who was normal. And after Alec sat me down and basically told me I was inhuman after all the songs I managed to record, I realized, maybe, I wasn’t as normal as I’d like to think I was. And then when Will said the last song I dropped today was the best track he’d heard from me ever —well, it sunk in. Regardless of the role I played, Saint or Zane, I was still a musician, a famous musician. And she was a college student with a fear of ants and glasses that managed to slip off her nose no matter how many times she tried to push them back up. I checked my watch and sat back against the sand. There was a bonfire. A giant ass bag of marshmallows. But no girl. And since the girl was the reason I was out there, by myself, when I could get mauled any minute —I was a bit disappointed. At least I had enough marshmallows to keep some of the anxiety at bay, not all of it, but some. And I was too emotionally exhausted to be anxious about people touching me, or staring, or wanting a picture. “Hey.” A nervous voice that sounded a bit too insecure to be Fallon cut through the stress of my day. I quickly turned and nearly pulled a muscle doing a double then triple take.

“That’s a dress,” I said dumbly. She pulled at the short black dress and shrugged. “These are also legs.” “They are.” Throat dry, I had to wonder, what was it about this girl that set me on fire, that made me want to take her and refuse to let the world have her. Beautiful women had always surrounded me, thrown themselves at me, and now…now I was struggling to speak. I was too busy staring at her sexy legs to register the other change, the one that had me jumping to my feet and kicking up sand in an effort to make it over to her. When I reached Fallon, I cupped her face and grinned. “No retirement home glasses?” “No.” She grinned. “Thanks in part to Mags purposely crunching my glasses under her giant foot.” “I sense a story here.” “You won’t get it,” she fired back with a smirk. “Hmm, that’s new, I typically get whatever I want…but when it comes to you, lots of doors slam in my face, windows.” Her smile faltered. “Do sliding doors slam?” “I’m sorry.” She looked down then up again, and her giant brown eyes locked on mine again. “I feel like that’s me in this friendship. Always apologizing.” “At this point, we’re even.” I offered my hand, mainly to see if she would shake it or get disappointed that I wasn’t kissing her instead. Slowly she reached out and grasped my hand. The minute we touched, I pulled her into my arms and kissed her hard across the mouth. “I’m sorry too.” “I like your sorry better.” She whispered against my lips. “Funny, I was just thinking I’ve really got this apology thing nailed down, yeah?” “You’re super good at it.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, standing up on her tiptoes to angle her head differently. “Amazing.” “I know.” “Humble.” “Very.” “Zane?” We broke apart. “Yeah?” “Why are you sorry?” “For not getting it.” I pulled back more and kissed her hands. “But first, we mallow.” She burst out laughing. “We mallow, huh?” “It’s the only way to stay friends, Fallon. And you do want to be my friend. Don’t you?” I grinned wickedly. “Because I’m a really good friend.” “Stop saying friend.” “Friend, friend, friend.” I chanted and tossed her a marshmallow. “Hey, I have a thought…” She caught the marshmallow in midair and stuffed the whole thing in her mouth. I groaned. “Just kidding,

no thoughts, no thoughts at all, can you do that again?” She frowned, then picked up the marshmallow and slowly licked the outside. My mouth dropped open. She bit into it and then licked again. I quickly looked around, like she was doing something illegal instead of molesting the marshmallow and making it painfully hard to keep my hands off of her. I suddenly cursed the fact that I was wearing tight jeans because I was ready to explode. From her licking a marshmallow. Great, I’d be an awesome sexual partner. Are you there yet? Because it’s been five seconds and I can’t keep myself from combusting. Just fantastic. “This feels dirty.” She chomped the rest of the marshmallow and slowly licked each finger. “Eh, I would just go with it,” I encouraged in a hoarse voice. “Can you lick your fingers slower? I want to memorize this moment.” “No!” She giggled. “You’re being weird, and I’m not taking advantage of a third marshmallow, poor thing.” “Poor me,” I grumbled. “I had to watch.” She tossed one at my head. I popped it in my mouth then held the bag over the fire. “What are you doing!” She jumped to her feet. “Volunteering as tribute, of course.” “Zane!” She reached for the bag, but I pulled it back out of her reach. “You’re being crazy, you need them.” “What if I need you more?” “Don’t harm any mallows.” “Ahh, say it again.” “Don’t harm any—” “The other part.” “Mallows.” She grumbled, crossing her arms. “If I burn them, you have to lick me, that’s how this game works right? I mean, if you have no object to lick, you’ll resort to the closest tasting thing.” I snapped my fingers and then grabbed a marshmallow and rubbed it down my chest. “See? I’m like a mallow, just bigger. Friendlier. Manlier.” I captured her in my gaze. “Harder.” Her eyes heated. “Much harder.” She pressed her hand against her forehead and laughed softly. “You’re impossible to say no to on

even your worse days.” “And yet you do. How do you think that makes me feel?” I grinned wolfishly then slowly made my way around the fire. “Now, lick.” Her breath hitched. “Licking leads to more licking.” “Thank God.” My smile grew. “And…” “What? Are you nervous? Isn’t that my line?” “Zane…” “Rules are rules, Fallon.” I pulled off her beanie and tossed it in the sand. “And since I’m the new volunteer and the marshmallows are out of reach…” I shrugged. “You better get to work.” “It’s not work.” “It better not be.” Eyes wide, she shocked the hell out of me by reaching for the front of my jeans and tugging me toward her with a jerk. “It’s pleasure.” Muscles tense, I stopped breathing the minute her fingers grazed my flexed stomach, her cold knuckles barely connecting with my skin before she pulled back and slowly sunk down to her knees. “Um, Fallon.” Voice uncertain I wasn’t sure if I should be terrified that her hands were swiftly moving to the front of my jeans or relieved. I’d been aching for her for weeks. But we were in public. And it was just starting to get dark. “Hmm?” She blinked up at me with wide innocent, eyes. “I’m just taking orders.” “Oh?” Was that my voice? The insecure thing escaping between my lips as her fingers fumbled across the metal button of my jeans, and then with a grin, she winked. I froze. “Gotcha.” She burst out laughing. “You should have seen your face!” “THE HELL!” I roared lunging for her and pinning her to the sand. “That wasn’t very nice.” “I never told you I was nice.” “What did I do to deserve such teasing?” “Ants.” She shrugged, shoving my hair away from my forehead as I crawled up her body and trapped her arms on the ground. “Struggling just makes me want to keep you here longer. Resistance is futile.” I brushed a kiss against her neck then licked. “Mmm, you taste good.” “Zane!” She squirmed beneath me. I ignored her little yelps of protest as I continued kissing down her neck. “You…” Her breath came out in a little gasp. “Have a gift.” “Oh?” Another hot kiss just below her ear, why did she taste like cotton candy all the damn time? “Kissing.” She blurted. “It’s not fair. Suck at something.”

“Would that make you feel better?” I pulled back. “Me sucking?” Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” With a wicked grin, I danced my fingertips across her chest then pulled some of the fabric of her dress aside, lowering my lips to her breast. “So. Not. Appropriate.” She gasped each word. “I was just following orders,” I said innocently, covering her and trying like hell to ignore the desire screaming through me. Like waves of heat, my blood boiled, surged, demanded I do something about that look on her face, the way that her lips curved into a sensual smile, I wanted it all. All of her. Us together. “Zane?” “What?” Our eyes locked. “Take me home.” It was like having ice water thrown on my body, I didn’t know what to say, was that it? She wanted to go home? After everything? The apologies, the understanding? How much hell could she put me through? “Your home.” She clarified, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Please?” “Kinda homeless at the moment.” I joked. “Then take me where you feel at home.” Our foreheads touched. “I’m looking at it.”

Chapter Twenty-Six Fallon MY EYES FILLED WITH tears.

Four weeks. It took four weeks for Zane Andrews to own me. Then again, he’d had me with the first marshmallow, with the first arrogant smirk as he walked around the house completely naked, except for a weird scarf that wrapped around his neck. God help me, I might not even make it to week five without asking if I could carry his firstborn. At nineteen. Was it obsession? Or something more. Something deeper. He stood and held out his hand. I took it. I realized then, I would always take it, wouldn’t I? He kicked sand onto the fire, grabbed the rest of the marshmallows, and kissed me on the forehead as we walked in silence down the boardwalk. My heart thumped against my chest in hammer-like fashion, only to pick up the minute Zane held open the door to The Seaside Resort. Where I worked. He didn’t go to the front desk. Then again, you had to be an actual member to stay at the Resort, so I was more than a little confused as we made our way to the top floor. My breathing went into overdrive. It was night. We were at a hotel. Together. Hands suddenly clammy, I tried to at least wipe the one that wasn’t touching him on my dress, but it did nothing to alleviate the nervousness as we finally rounded the corner and stopped in front of the penthouse suite. It was over sixteen hundred square feet with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the ocean. And it was breath taking. “So either, you paid someone off, or stole a key card?” Zane laughed. “Would you believe me if I told you this is where I’ve been staying the past few

days? We’ve been recording so late into the night that I finally just grabbed a room for me and my agent.” “You’re agent?” This was the first I was hearing about the agent being here. Then again, I’d been ignoring him for a week, or he’d been ignoring me. My stomach clenched. Did that mean he was almost done recording? Going home. I tried to keep my body language from revealing my feelings, but I was wound up too tight to do anything except offer him a curious smile, one he didn’t even acknowledge since he was looking out at the ocean, hands in pockets. It was too much. I needed a moment. The intensity of the situation I was in wasn’t lost on me. I was alone with Zane Andrews in his hotel room, and I’d all but propositioned him on the beach. At least that’s how it felt. Like there was this unspoken understanding between us, the minute I grabbed his hand, I was agreeing to never look back. But would he? Would he look back on this moment and regret it? Would he wish he wouldn’t have taken a chance on a girl like me? The muscular profile of his body used to intimidate me. Slowly, he pulled his shirt over his head. My breath hitched. It didn’t mean anything. He just liked being naked. He’d said as much to be before. “This is the first time in years I’ve been able to stay alone and not be freaked out. Then again, Will’s next door.” He tossed the shirt onto the couch, still not turning around. “Will?” I asked mouth dry. “My agent.” He answered while unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them off his body. Okay. I really needed a time out. Or a chair. To sit in. Pass out across. I tried to suck in more air as his designer jeans made a loud thrash against the slate floor. There was nothing hesitant about him, Zane wasn’t the type to get nervous or insecure. At least when it came to the one thing he was secure about.

Himself. His own body. What he owned. What he kept close. Kept close. I rolled the sentence around in my head, then shakily slid out of my sweater and placed it across the couch, rubbing my arms to create some friction as I slowly made my way toward his towering body. “Are you leaving soon?” He didn’t answer right away, instead, his gorgeous head of dark hair hung forward in defeat. “I’m not sure….yet.” He was waiting. I knew it. He knew I knew it too, his stance changed from confident to determined as every muscle grew rigid across the planes of his stomach, wrapping around his back. Nobody had the right to be that beautiful, man or woman. Or that comfortable in their own skin. Even naked in the shower I had the horrible habit of pointing out every single flaw, feeling my skin to see I was gaining weight, making a face at parts of my body that didn’t flow right. Not Zane. Never Zane. “Zane…” His name was a whisper across my lips. His head turned, eyes locked on mine, he waited. Why was this so hard? Why was he making it so difficult? When you let me keep you in my arms for longer than a few minutes---when I’m yours to keep right back. “Yeah?” His eyes drank me in. “What is it, Fallon?” “I want longer than a few minutes,” I admitted with a large gulp of air. “I want to keep you back.” In two strides he was in front of me, reaching for my face, kissing my mouth, sliding his lips down my neck, his hands fluidly lifting my dress over my head only to have his mouth return. “No take backs,” he murmured across my neck before his eyes once again focused intently on mine. “No take backs,” I agreed, deepening the kiss as my hands danced along his muscular shoulders, my fingers greedy as they dug into his hot skin, nearly combusting as he flexed beneath those same fingertips.

He was super human—confident in every caress, every kiss, like he’d done this hundreds of times before, but when he pulled back, anxiety flashed. “Do I need to get the marshmallows?” I joked between kisses. “No.” He burst out laughing. “No.” Zane sobered. “I’m pretty sure I need to draw the line somewhere, and marshmallows and sex are probably your hard limit, yeah?” “My hard limit was ants,” I said deadpan. “You think you’re funny don’t you?” His eyes twinkled. “Please still keep me.” I begged in a teasing tone. “I’ll think about it.” His kiss was fierce as his gruff voice rolled over me like a slow-building fire. Every kiss fanned the flames, feeding them with his special brand of oxygen, leaving me powerless to do anything but kiss him back, prove to him that I wasn’t going anywhere and that he could trust me. “You’re too good at this,” I whimpered when I looked down and noticed I was naked. I’d literally felt nothing, I’d been thoroughly seduced, as if he’d snapped his fingers and my clothes had just disappeared. With a laugh, he shrugged. “I’m just good at distraction.” “Why would you need me distracted?” Our bodies pressed close together, he held me in his arms and kissed my forehead. “You may have second thoughts about sleeping with a virgin.” “Or I may think it’s the best thought I’ve ever had.” “Ever, hmm?” “Ever, ever.” I nodded, needing to taste him again, almost losing my nerve when I felt his length press against me. It had been a while. And none of them had been like Zane. There would never be anyone like Zane. “I want this, with you…” Zane sounded hesitant. “But, Fallon, you can’t say anything, alright? In my own time I’ll tell people if I even need to, but right now, the focus needs to be on the movie and the album, not my sex life. Can you do that for me?” I nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” “Thank you.” “Why are you thanking me?” “Because I know I can trust you with my secrets, and if I can trust you with those…I can trust you with this.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven Zane PLEASE, GOD, DON’T LET me be wrong about her, about what I felt, what I saw when I looked into her

trusting eyes. I wanted her physically. I craved her emotionally. To be able to stay in a hotel room by myself—had been like defeating a giant. She had no way of knowing that, but what do you say to the person who, inch by inch, holds your hand while you tell them about the invisible monsters, the type that, to anyone else, make no sense at all, but to you, are crippling? I knew there was no going back. From this scene, her gorgeous naked little body. She was at least a foot shorter than me, curvy in all the places that made a guy want to stop and take notice, her ass round. Her color was bright as she visibly swallowed and then licked her lips. “Zane, you can trust me.” “Okay.” My voice shook, and like peeling off layers and layers of clothing as winter turns into summer, I felt myself internally shed every single wall I’d ever put up when it came to sex—to sharing that part of my soul with someone else. I left them on the floor. The death of my grandmother. The abandonment I felt at my sisters refusing to contact me until I got famous. The shame at being accused of raping someone, when I was the near victim. The anxiety of crowds and their demanding screams, and how it always reminded me of my own screams in my bedroom after my grandmother died. When I was locked in my closet. For two days without food. Because the lady at the orphanage couldn’t get me to stop crying, and I was bothering the other students. I had one bag of marshmallows with me. And a coloring book. The head lice that followed. The sickness of wearing clothes that weren’t mine. The itchy feeling of being watched. I let out a little gasp as it all fell, crashing metaphorically to the floor over and over and over again like pieces of ice hitting the ground.

“My God.” Fallon covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. Not how I envisioned my first experience being. Except I think—she was crying for me, for the person I felt like I had to be all the time. And for the scared little boy, I still was. She grabbed my hand and linked her fingers with mine, as tear after tear slid down her face. “Let me love you.” Nobody had ever said that to me before. They all wanted to screw me. They wanted me to screw them. They wanted. They wanted. They wanted. They took. They took. They took. They stole. They stole. They stole. I nodded, hands trembling as I cupped her face and brushed a soft kiss across her lips, my tongue tasting the salt of her tears. Tears shed for me. She tugged me toward the bedroom. Of course she’d know where it was; she cleaned the rooms. The moonlight cast a silver glow through the partially open window as the wind lifted the curtains in an ethereal dance of shadows across her face. She took the lead. I let her. Not because I couldn’t. But because she asked me. She asked permission, to show me something that nobody ever had. How could I deny her that? How? I would like to think, my life truly began, when Fallon grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the bed, then slowly crawled on top of me and kissed me. She kissed my eyes. My ears. My nose. My mouth. My eyes again. As the tears dried across her beautiful face, her eyes lit up with wonder. More kisses slid down my chest, driving me crazy, making me want to take the moment from her and sink into her. That’s what I wanted. But it wasn’t what I deserved. Or her.

So I let her keep kissing. And when I thought I was going to lose my mind, when her mouth found the one part of me that I’d never let any girl touch. I let myself go. I closed my eyes, grit my teeth, and let her love me. And when that same mouth trailed farther down my body, only to come back up as the chill of the wind hit every wet kiss, I shivered and trembled. My hands roamed across her back, and I lifted her up just as I slid down, my mouth pleasing her in ways I knew my hands never could. She moaned, arching back against me, her hair a tangled mess of darkness as it slid against my stomach. We didn’t talk. Words have a way of shattering precious moments in time, moments where talking won’t ever enhance the situation. She cried out, her hands tugging my hair as I slid her back down my body and kissed her open thigh. Her watery eyes met mine and in a hungry kiss I grabbed her body and flipped her onto her back, sinking myself between her thighs. I reached for the nightstand, but she grabbed my hand and winked shaking her head and whispering “pill” just as she hooked her legs behind me and pulled me all the way in. “Damn,” I muttered across her mouth. “So now he talks,” she joked softly as I moved against her. “He’s kind…” I thrust slowly, so many feelings, her warmth, her body clenched around mine, hard verses soft, warmth and searing heat. My brain was firing so fast that I couldn’t focus on one single thing that made the moment amazing, but everything at once, in this huge epic combustible explosion of nerve reactions, not to mention privilege, that she was opening up to me—trusting me. “…of busy…right now.” I finally finished my sentence as she cried out, her breathing heavy as liquid heat surrounded me. I wanted this forever. No. Longer than that. I wanted it longer than that. She kissed me deeply, her tongue sliding against mine, it was too much, the feel of being inside her, the feel of her tongue as it flicked inside my mouth, mimicking my every movement. “You can lose control, you know.” She said pulling back. “It’s us.” “It is us.” I swallowed her scream as I fell over the edge, and felt her come right along with me.

Chapter Twenty-Eight Fallon “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Zane sat up in bed while I held up my hand motioning that he needed to give me a minute. When I returned with a bag of marshmallows his grin was so huge it took over half of his face. “Best sex of my life and you bring me marshmallows in bed? Who are you?” I rolled my eyes, feeling myself blush. “I figured you’d need some sugar after all that yelling, mainly on your part.” I tossed him one. “Cursing, which by the way, still you.” I tossed him another while he rolled his eyes. “And collapsing across the bed… still you, by the way.” “I had a lot of pent-up sexual aggression that was just released.” His naked chest was impossible not to stare at. “You can’t just release the beast from its cage and not expect it to tucker itself out.” I covered my face with my hands. “You did not just say that.” “Why are you blushing?” he asked innocently. “Why do you keep trying to take all of my jobs away from me, damn it! I’m supposed to be the innocent maiden, blushing at the loss of her innocence.” I threw a pillow at his face. “British accenting me while eating mallows in bed is not the way to get laid again, sir.” “My bad.” He opened his mouth. I tossed another marshmallow at him then crawled into bed next to him, placing my hand against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart. “Tell me.” His heartbeat picked up. “Tell you what?” “Everything.” I expected him to hesitate, to make a joke. He didn’t. Instead, Zane stayed Zane, the guy I liked, the one I was head over heels for, and he started sharing. “My first foster parents were nice. I hated the orphanage, my sisters were adopted right away. They were younger and closer in age.” “That’s horrible.” “Yeah well, for some reason the parents didn’t want a troublesome boy.” My heart broke for him. “You were a bad kid?” “I cried.” He shrugged. “Apparently, that was enough. Weakness was enough, you know? When my sisters said goodbye, they didn’t really understand what was happening, and I felt like I was letting them down. It wasn’t abandonment to me. It was more like, I was letting my grandmother down.” “Oh, Zane.” I hugged him tighter.

“I wrote them, they wrote back—for a while at least. I was able to visit them at their perfect house. With its white shutters, blue paint, and ice tea on the porch. They were always laughing and smiling and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t.” He swallowed. “Foster home after foster home, until the end, when I was accused of raping or trying to rape my own foster mother, the jealous bitch.” He sat up a bit, I followed. Please don’t leave, please don’t leave. “I had three more months in the system, three months before I could go to college on a full ride scholarship. But you can’t stay in the dorms until registration. So, I stayed on the street, worked where I could, sometimes slept on friends’ couches, and basically lived the life of a bad ass nomad until school in the fall.” “Thus the education.” “Yeah.” He trembled. “I took music as one of my elective courses, fell in love with basically every instrument I could get my hands on, lucky for me, my professor was…” He smiled. “He was incredible. He wasn’t even my academic advisor and he let me be his TA for a semester so I could have keys to the music building. I basically slept in there.” I frowned. “Probably better than the streets.” “Better than anything.” His voice grew wistful. “Music surrounded me, and music has this way of feeling alive. It didn’t scare me, my anxiety wasn’t as bad because I had life around me, buzzing, comforting me, all I needed to do was hop over to the piano—with my bag of marshmallows, mind you—and everything was good.” “So how did this all start?” I was almost afraid to ask, but for some reason, I felt like I needed to. Maybe for him, for me? For us. “The anxiety? The craziness? The attacks?” “They’ve always been there. I mean as a kid I remember having them all the time. Maybe I was just so busy in college that it didn’t register? I started playing at a local coffee house. That’s where Will found me and signed me immediately to one of his friends’ labels. That was four years ago.” “Four years and you have seven Grammys.” “Eight.” He corrected. “Actually.” I smiled to myself at his nonchalant correction, like it wasn’t a big deal that he had one more Grammy than I assumed. I mean it wasn’t like I had any awards laying around. I won my eighth-grade spelling bee, and I was pretty sure the trophy was no more than a participation one. “And the anxiety?” I prodded. “Music makes you vulnerable.” His voice was distant. “You may as well invite someone into the deepest parts of you—I’ve never been able to write music without putting myself into the words, into the songs. And people, they sing them, they identify with them, they worship you for them, they condemn you for them. Suddenly, I was getting criticized for being afraid, for being hurt, for falling in and out of love. My soul was a punching bag, and nobody taught me how to be anything but that person with music. It’s always me, so I took it personally and eventually it just broke me down.” He

shifted his position and muttered a curse. “The same people who wanted my autograph talked trash about me backstage. Other bands started doing the same, and it got hard, so I pulled back more and more because that’s what you do when you don’t know what else to do, you retreat. You tell yourself that by retreating, you’re really allowing yourself to lick your wounds, to heal. But instead? The mind, it takes control of so many things, plays tricks with you, lies, hell my mind is a damn liar it’s been lying to me since the day I was born. Telling me I wasn’t good enough, that everyone I loved was going to leave me, that I wasn’t worthy of love, I was able to push past that when I had goals, but when I had everything the world told me I needed to achieve to maintain that level of selfactualization. I looked down from my tower and panicked because I thought I was at the top and I was only halfway, how could that be? How does that make sense? It’s because it’s not achievable, but it was already too late for me, my retreat became my hell and it’s where I’ve been ever since.” “And now?” I whispered, reaching for his hand, linking our fingers together, trying not to freak out over the fact that he was still talking to me, opening up, allowing me to see who he truly was and not shoving me out of bed and making me sign some sort of agreement that I wouldn’t talk about him. “What do you feel like now?” Zane’s long eyelashes pressed against his cheekbones as he blinked down at the white duvet then up at me. “I feel everything.” I gulped as his hands moved to cup my face. “I feel your breathing. I feel your heartbeat. I feel the tension in the air, the scent of your body, the rhythm of your pulse—I feel it all.” I exhaled slowly through my mouth, worried that I’d ruin that look of bliss on his face by breathing too loud. “But mostly…” A smile crept across his face. “I feel you and me.” “Us.” “Yeah, us.” His hands trailed down my neck, resting on my shoulders. “I think I’m going to keep you.” I smiled, licking my lips. He sobered. “I’ve never been kept before.” “Well…” I crawled into his lap and wrapped my legs around his waist. “Now you are.” His eyes crinkled at the sides as his smile widened. “I think I like this idea of being kept.” “I’ll be sure to administer the daily marshmallow allotment before and after bed.” I nodded encouragingly. “Oh, baby.” His knuckles grazed my sides, his hands spreading across my skin causing goose bumps to flare everywhere. “I love the sound of that.” “I knew you would.” “What about marshmallow trails to bed? Are those out too? Because I’m really good with positive reinforcement.”

My cheeks heated. “Yeah. I bet.” “Stay.” His forehead touched mine, chest heaving, he kissed me across the mouth. “Stay.” “I will.” He nodded and then I was drowning in his deep kisses, my body already responding to his, ready for whatever he had to give me.

Chapter Twenty-Nine Zane I WAS FLYING.

Every time she gave herself to me—which by the time five a.m. rolled around, had already been twice more, I was flying. Each experience was different. Each kiss evolved. Each touch transformed into something more meaningful. Something that meant a hell of a lot more than a twenty-four-hour booty call. She was breathing deep, her wild hair falling across her face, kissing her barely parted lips. I leaned down and kissed her forehead then walked over to my guitar and picked it up. I processed things differently than most people. Therapy had never worked for me because talking about the anxiety had always made it worse, almost like this weird paranoia that if I talked about it, it made it more real, so I kept it to myself. But talking to Fallon felt freeing. Like I could trust her with the deepest darkest parts of me, and she’d still hold my hand. It was hard to process or even explain the openness with which she treated me, like I wasn’t a freak, like there wasn’t something wrong with me because of my past. Grandma would have loved her. I sighed and strummed a few chords then a few more as the roar of the waves crashed in the distance when a knock sounded at the door. I quickly grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around my body before I cracked it open and peeked out. Will stared at me, then at the sheet, then back at me, his grin widening the more his brain cells added two and two together. “You smell like a girl.” “It’s five in the morning.” “You used to wake up at three.” His eyes narrowed as he crossed his bulky arms across his chest and smirked. “So…” He rocked back on his heels. “How was it?” “Oh, God.” I groaned. “This is hell, isn’t it? Where I have the best night of my life and then get questioned by the only father figure I have!” “Screw you. I’m thirty!” His eyes widened. “Oh sorry, dirty uncle then? How does that work?” He flipped me off. I barricaded my arms against the door and shook my head. “No, not a chance in hell, what do you

need?” His green eyes narrowed behind thick black-rimmed glasses that I still wasn’t sure if he actually needed or just wore, so it made him look more intelligent. “It’s not like I want to see your girl naked, I’m just curious. Is this the one that broke you? And had you walking around like a zombie for the past week mumbling under your breath and refusing to do anything except for glue your ass to the piano bench and go through ten pounds of marshmallows? That girl?” I didn’t answer. He cursed under his breath. “Great, just great. Look, I’m not trying to be a jackass, but you were in a pretty dark place before her and the music, it was good, not great, and now it’s…effortless.” I looked down at the plush carpet. “It’s pure gold. Even when she hurt you, it was pure gold. If you lose her, if something happens… what happens to your music then? Is that when the great Zane Andrews finally cracks? Is she the catalyst that sends you over the age? I mean, do you even realize how fragile you are?” “Goodbye, Will.” I tried to slam the door in his face but his hand wrapped around the edge, and I might be a bastard, but I didn’t want to break every bone in his playing hand. “Zane.” His worried expression wasn’t helping the tightening in my stomach or the anxiety that continued to wrap itself around it. “I’m saying this because I care. Look, you’ve found your muse, awesome, fantastic, but what happens when you start touring again? What happens when she finds out the truth?” My blood ran cold. “The truth.” “When was the last time you even had a checkup? Your doctor called and said you missed your last two appointments. The team’s concerned.” “Concerned.” I repeated, like that was all I could actually do in that moment. “About what? Not getting paid? Look, I’m fine, my last check up was completely normal, no weird tumors, no passing out anymore.” I jumped up and down. “You could have been brain dead from the accident, Zane. As it is, the concussion was so bad your brain was bleeding, you asked if I was a chicken. We monitor you because if we don’t, you could die. You get that right? Death.” “Will.” Anger raged through my veins, anger at him, myself, the situation, the reminder that it wasn’t just about my album but being able to finish it before I went under the knife for the aneurysm doctors were almost ninety-eight percent sure was one of the dangerous ones, the ones that like to pop. “I’ll be fine. The album’s almost done. I feel the best I have in years.” “Because of her,” Will said in a flat tone. “So don’t screw it up just because you omit in order to protect her. If you’re all in, you’re all in, that’s how these things work. I would hate to lose you, Zane, and I’m going to guess, so would she. Either figure your shit out and go all in, set all the cards on the table, or let her go.”

The door shut quietly. I stared at it. Outraged. Afraid. And then outraged all over again. The stupid thing was—doctors would have never discovered the slight tear in my brain had I not fallen off the stage and had my little breakdown. One test turned into twenty. And they all showed the same thing. An area of my brain was compromised, and it was just a matter of time before a tiny little particle smaller than the pin of a needle, released itself and tried to kill me. Technology though—had a way of zapping it, but timing wise, I had to finish the album first—I had to finish it, because if I didn’t wake up, if something happened… I wanted to have the music done, so maybe if I was a vegetable, maybe then I would still remember what it was like. To have music. And now. To have her. Because she was in every single song.

Chapter Thirty Fallon THE SUN BURST THROUGH the window casting a warm light across my bare arms. I slowly stretched my

sore body and rubbed my eyes. Memories of the night before assaulted me over and over again causing a slow burn to start from my toes and spread all the way to my face. The things he said. The things we did. The way he touched me. I suppressed a nervous giggle. “Something funny?” An extremely—thank you, God—naked Zane was standing in the doorway, a cup of coffee in one hand, a marshmallow in the other, and an acoustic guitar hanging off the side of his body. I wasn’t really sure if I should laugh or just cry at the image of perfection standing in front of me, every rippled muscle on display for me to see. That was the thing about Zane. His secrets were his and his alone. But his body? It was as if he knew the mental barriers he put up and didn’t want to do the same with the physical ones, like it was all he had to share at times. And I respected that. Even though I didn’t quite fully understand it. “You,” I finally muttered in a sleepy voice. “Let me guess, marshmallow pancakes for breakfast?” He made a face. “Marshmallow waffles. Actually.” I scrunched up my nose. “Those are better how?” His face broke out into a grin as he took a sip of coffee. “Be a good girl and I’ll tell you.” “It’s too early for you.” His smirk was ridiculous, yet I couldn’t help but laugh and throw a pillow in his direction, hoping it would at least alleviate the giddiness in my chest that I was really there. In his hotel room. In his bed. And I had been the only one. A sense of rightness washed over me as I grabbed one of the blankets in an effort to cover myself. “No,” Zane said in a commanding voice.

I looked up. “No, what?” “Morning time is naked time.” He took another slow sip. “No clothes.” “But—” “Nope.” I frowned and slowly stood, naked, on both feet. We’d had sex how many times? And I couldn’t stand in front of him naked? As sunlight streamed in and basically put a beam on every imperfection I had. “Happy?” I huffed. “I’m…” He tilted his head and smirked. “…very pleased, yes. Yourself?” “You have too much energy. What time is it anyway?” “Don’t cross your arms.” “Huh?” I crossed, uncrossed, crossed again, then clenched my fists. “I’m standing in front of you naked.” “My body and mind are both well aware of this awesome fact. Thanks for clarifying though, just in case there was any confusion.” I swallowed and looked down, body shaking a bit. “I’m not like you. I can’t just walk around naked and be okay with it—even with you.” “Yes, you can,” he said simply with a shrug. “Now, do you want waffles or not? I’m a pretty bad ass cook, and I figured since we were keeping each other and all, the least I could do is feed you.” My stomach growled. He tossed me a marshmallow. I caught it mid-air. “I’m going to develop diabetes if I keep eating all this sugar.” He waved me off with his cup. “Eh, you’ll be fine. There are worse things out there, trust me.” His expression sobered for a flicker of a second before the smile was back. “Now, I have some recording to do. And I may have promised Jay I’d meet him on set today for a small cameo.” My eyebrows shot up. “On set? With crowds?” “Come with me.” The words shot out of his mouth like a plea, his eyes darting back and forth between my mouth and my eyes. “Please?” “Can I wear clothes?” He put his coffee down on the nearby nightstand and pulled me into his arms. “If any man sees you naked like this, I’ll have to kill him, and I can’t have blood on my hands, prison isn’t for the likes of me.” “For the likes of you?” “Then again,” he looked thoughtful. “I bet my cousin would bail me out.” “Your cousin?” “Keep up, the really distant one, on my grandmother ’s side, I think we’re like half cousins,

whatever, she used to tease us that he was part of this huge mafia family and said if we didn’t eat all of our spinach she would send us to live with him.” I laughed. “That’s kind of mean.” “Right, but it got me to eat, and sometimes, there wasn’t a lot of food, and I was always worried she wouldn’t get enough.” His voice trailed off as a flicker of sadness dimmed his eyes. “So, have you met this cousin?” I asked, not as much curious as I needed a quick subject change since I knew he’d been doing a lot of sharing about his crappy past. Zane smirked. “Twice.” “And?” “He’s a scary mofo,” he said with a breathy half laugh. Then he released me and moved into the kitchen and started pulling out plates from the cupboard. “When I was little and then the second time was at one of my first worldwide tours, I had a stop in Chicago, and he was backstage afterwards. I thought he was one of my new bodyguards. The guy was pretty big even by my standards.” As if to emphasize his point, Zane chose that moment to flex every muscle in his body and then wink. I wish I was the type of girl not to be affected by all that masculine beauty, but I’d tasted him, he’d been inside me, so I was more than affected, I was ready to sprint back to the bedroom and lock him in it. I twisted my hands in my lap and pretended to listen when all I could think about was where his tongue had been about three hours ago. “Really?” Zane licked his lips. I clenched my thighs and tried to swallow. With another grin, Zane placed a waffle on each plate, with a marshmallow on top and chocolate syrup over both. “Well?” He grabbed some whipped cream and dipped his finger in the top, sucking it off slowly. My legs tightened while my breathing came out a bit heavy. “He introduced himself, well not just him but the rest of the friends or crew he’d brought with them. And shock of all shocks, they each had a sidearm. Just out in public, in Chicago, like it wasn’t a big deal. I mean it wasn’t Texas, you know? And what other reason would they have for carrying weapons? Even one of the girls, when she knelt down to pick up an autographed poster that a little girl had dropped, had a knife freaking strapped to her thigh.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re exaggerating, right?” “Hell, no.” He held his hands up in the air. “They even said if I ever wanted to come to the house and give a private concert…” “And die?” I finished. “Like they’d kill familia!” Zane pounded his chest and winked. “Anyways, he gave me his phone number just in case, and that was that.” I frowned. “Just in case what? You get shanked by the mob?”

“Hmm,” Zane licked more whipped cream off his waffle. “Don’t really think the mob shanks people. They drown people, make them disappear, freeze bodies, but shanking? I think that’s more prison you’re thinking.” I burst out laughing. “This is good post-sex talk, really, fantastic, nice ice breaker you know? Getting shanked.” “I’d shank you.” Zane said in a sultry voice. “But not with a knife.” I struggled not to laugh. “Yeah, not sure that sexual innuendo worked.” “Next time.” He rubbed his hands together and handed me my plate. “You’re breakfast of champions.” “Again, diabetes.” “Just one taste,” He dipped his finger into the whipped cream and held it out to me. I licked around the base of his finger then wrapped my mouth around and sucked hard. He let out a low curse and nearly collapsed against me. “That’s completely unfair.” “And you walking around naked looking like this is fair?” I ran my hands over his tight abs while he let out a little moan. “Ten minutes,” he whispered. “Give me ten more minutes with you and then I promise I’ll work.” “Are you still paying me?” “Oh, and you’re fired. Sorry, our company has a very strict no fraternization policy. Please gather your things and leave them at the door so I can hide them, keeping you from leaving the premises.” I kissed him. I couldn’t help it anymore. The magnetic pull that was Zane Andrews was nearly impossible to resist, and after actually knowing him, talking to him, I’d be crazy not to latch onto him in any way physically possible. “So, this makes us what? No longer employee and employer?” “This makes us.” He rubbed his hands down my face softly as if the pads of his fingers were set on memorizing every inch of skin they could. “An us. Together. It’s what I want…but I’m still allowing you to vote. You know, even though you’re a woman.” I rolled my eyes and smacked him lightly across the chest. “After an invitation like that? How could I say no?” “Waffles later?” He asked picking me up by the ass and slamming me between both plates, the bite of the granite countertop caused me to hiss out but it was nothing compared to the smooth transition of warmth as he assaulted me with kisses then slid me off the counter and onto him, allowing me to ride him as I pushed against the back of the counter with my hands. “Yeah.” I breathed out a moan as I moved against him. “Waffles, some…other time….” “I love it when you’re distracted.” He kissed my neck as he let me take control keeping me elevated just enough to hit every single nerve that it felt like I possessed.

“So…” My mind was a blur of feelings. “Distraction.” “Distracted?” “What?” I shuddered as he deepened the kiss, his hands digging into my skin and lifting me into the air, cold air hit my back and then he was pressing me against the lower dining room table, against more dishes, against more silverware, and I didn’t care, I literally had no idea how long I let the sensation of Zane Andrews consume me, but inch by inch, hurried breath after breath, he continued to push his way into my world. And I realized, between two dinner placemats, as we both found release, there would never be any going back. For either of us. “Zane.” I fought to catch my breath as sweat dripped down the side of his face. “Thanks for telling me everything.” His expression was unreadable. He leaned down and kissed me again and again. It wouldn’t be until later that night. That I’d register the emotion, he’d just tried to hide. Guilt.

Chapter Thirty-One Zane “YOU READY FOR THIS?” Jay asked a few hours later. I’d spent the rest of the morning in bed, skipping

my recording session much to Will’s dismay, and hightailed my ass to set. A cameo. I could do a cameo. The crowds of extras were stifling, it was supposed to be a party scene, and I was playing myself on stage. Like usual. On stage. I could do it. I flinched when the makeup artist added more dark shadow to my eyes, something that Jay was completely adamant about, was that I play myself but like this darker self, my designer jeans were shredded within an inch of their life, and I was barefoot. The scene was supposed to be a Halloween party and apparently, I was a vampire. A half-naked vampire. That looked a hell of a lot like Jack Sparrow. I flinched when I saw my own reflection, freaky blue and white contacts stared back at me as fangs met my bottom lip. “I can’t sving like vis!” I lifted my hands into the air in exasperation. Alec and Demetri were both in makeup chairs next to me, also headed up to the same fake stage, only they were getting zombie makeup put on them. Demetri lifted up his phone. “Keep talking.” I rolled my eyes. “No.” “Say something with an SSSSSS.” He laughed. “Sthuck you!” I yelled “What was that?” He cupped his ear. Alec glanced down at his phone and burst out laughing while Jay approached with his headset around his neck and Lincoln flanked on his right. “Remember.” Jay was so damn young to be directing, but he was kicking ass. You could tell in the way the actors watched him, hung on his every word, even Lincoln, not that Lincoln had ever been a bad guy, he was just…very Hollywood, until he met Dani, now he seemed more normal. Hell, like I even knew the meaning of the word. I told Fallon to wait for me by Dani, who decided upon Fallon’s arrival that they both needed to

grab coffee if they were going to make it through the afternoon. “I need you to look pissed.” Jay grabbed Lincoln by the shirt. “This scene is pivotal, okay? It’s the third book in the series, alright? The one where Alec and Nat are together but he’s been lying about his past.” Suddenly uncomfortable I looked down. I wasn’t necessarily lying. Just not sharing something that could ruin the moment and cause potential hurt, besides, did it really matter? Finish the album. Spend as much time with Fallon as possible. And get a checkup if I start feeling weird. My last check was six months ago, and although the aneurysm was still there, I was told it wasn’t growing and might heal up and disappear on its own, but that if by my next check up the body hadn’t repaired itself, I would need to go in for surgery. Brain surgery. That could leave me a vegetable for the rest of my life. Which, until meeting her, didn’t seem to matter all that much. After all, I didn’t like people—and they sure as hell didn’t like me or wouldn’t like the real me if they ever knew my secret. That I puked my guts out after meet and greets. And hadn’t been to a mall in years. “Hey, you ready for this?” Alec stood and held out his fist for me to bump. “Yeah.” “At least you get to lip sync, you know? Otherwise, you’d sound like a freak.” “Wow, thanks.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll still sound better than you.” I teased. “Okay, eight.” “Eight?” “Grammies. I keep count so I know how many more I need this next awards season to kick your ass.” “Three.” I called, “Just in case you were wondering.” “It will happen, after all, we actually got an album recorded this last year while you sat on your ass and ate marshmallows while watching Real Housewives.” “Bethenny’s a goddess,” I called after him. He was right, though. I needed to finish recording tonight. Even if it killed me, which it very well might. A twinge of guilt snapped in my chest like a small twig, like I was trying to sneak up on something

and my own guilt caused my foot to slip against something loud. That was how I felt with this secret. It wasn’t the public’s business. But it was hers. Wasn’t it? We were going on four weeks of knowing each other—nobody shared everything after only four weeks. It was a lie. I knew it even as I thought it. “Places!” Someone yelled while my vampire self got ushered toward the stage. Fallon waved at me from behind the camera, both she and Dani had a cup of coffee in hand and were pointing and laughing. Yes. Hilarious. Edward Sparrow, Ladies and Gentleman! She looked gorgeous in tight skinny jeans and a loose grey tank top that was tied in a knot at her waist. She must have gone home to change, which for some reason made me anxious. I didn’t want her anywhere but in my arms—in my bed, wherever that bed may be. The lights dimmed. Alec and Demetri started their creepy little acoustic melody and then the music shifted to the one we had written for the actual movie. I moved to center stage. My nerves at an all time high as everything fell silent and then the beat picked up and I did what I did best. “My name’s Saint,” I whispered gravely into the microphone. “Are you ready to confess your sins?” The extras went wild, so wild that I nearly cut and ran, but it was a concert, a fake one, but one I could control, this is what I did. I entertained. “I’ve been bad,” a girl screamed. Not sure if that was scripted or not, but I leaned down with my microphone and tilted her chin toward me. Screams erupted. I whispered above the noise directly into the mic. “I’ll show you bad.” The music blared as I turned around, shoved in my stupid ass vampire teeth and started to lip sync. “Show me dirty, I’ll make you clean.” I ran down center stage and slid across my knees leaning backwards as girls grabbed at my abs and ripped jeans. “I’m your saint, I’m your dream.” Lincoln and Pris, Jay’s wife, who was playing the part of Nat, started dancing with the rest of the extras, while my hips bucked against hands slamming into me and tongues licking my arms.

I shivered and stood. “Confess, confess, confess.” The crowd started shouting with me. “Reckless, dirty girl, confess, I’ll make you wish you weren’t stuck in a prison of your own making, just give me the chance, I’ll be yours for the taking.” I put the mic on a stand and lifted my hands as the lights lit up behind me, Alec and Demetri’s harmony crooned in on the chorus. It was hard to hear above the screaming and the music. And that was saying a lot, since I sold out nearly every concert I performed. The music cut, but we had to still pretend to be dancing on stage and getting the crowd riled up, but Lincoln and Pris had to deliver lines. We waited for our cue then started up again. And before I knew it, the scene was over. “Again,” Jay called out to everyone. “One more time.”

Chapter Thirty-Two Fallon I WATCHED IN WIDE-EYED amazement as girls ran their hands over his rock hard body, I had to remind

myself over and over again that this was his job. But now that he’d had sex, would it translate to something else? His hips pressed into the air and then against a girl’s hand. My jaw nearly came unhinged when one girl started licking his wrist and then took a bite. His eyes fluttered closed as he moved fluidly with the crowd, like they were his drug, his next hit, his voice, or the recording rose above the music as lights flashed across his perfectly sculpted face. The entire set buzzed with electricity. Zane, in his element, was completely and utterly unstoppable. The type of talent you see once in a lifetime and wonder how the heck he does it every day without having a nervous breakdown. And suddenly everything he said, clicked into place. The anxiety. The way he’d grown up. And the constant pressure from the very crowd that adored him, a crowd that in one instant could turn on him. It wasn’t just a lot of pressure, it seemed impossible. And yet, he danced with ease, he sang like he was the male version of Beyonce and owned the world. He made me believe that if I could just touch him one time, my life would be changed. He made me believe it. Whatever it was. The character he was playing? Saint? It would be easy to fall in love with him rather than Zane, the man behind it. Because Zane was normal, Zane had normal fears, normal reactions, but Saint? He was completely untouchable. And yet at the same time, to every woman in that room? Obtainable. Dani’s eyes went wide when Alec and Demetri joined him in this crazy chorus dance sequence thing. “I’m pretty sure I’d kill Linc if I saw him on stage like that.” I tried not to be offended. “Why?” She stared at the guys then back at me then back at the guys. “Actors sell a different person. Singers sell an enhanced version of themselves. He may be Zane to you, but he will still always be

Saint. Alec and Demetri are great guys, but they are still extremely…rough around the edges, in all the best ways. I adore them, I’m just saying. Singers always claim acting and performing are the same. She shook her head. “But I beg to differ, because when Linc acts he doesn’t own the crowds, not like this, this is magic, and I can’t imagine the toll it must take mentally, to do something like this every single day.” I didn’t trust myself to speak, at least not right away. When I did, I could barely squeeze the words out. “A lot.” “What?” She asked. “The toll. It’s a lot. It strips them, makes them inhuman, objects.” She lowered her head then wrapped an arm around me. “Sorry, that was rude of me, I’m not trying to compare evils or anything here, both play pretend, but both come home. That’s the important part.” “Home,” I repeated as memories of Zane’s words hit me in the head like a slap in the face. I don’t have one of those. But he did now, right? With me? The breath backed up in my lungs. What, with me and my parents? Seriously? If my father saw us in bed together, Zane would end up on our wall. And my mom? Right, I can just imagine her leaving marshmallows under his pillow and buying him Lucky Charms because according to her it was the same thing. Zane would scream blasphemy. A fight would break out. Nope, definitely no home there. Was home with me? And if it was, what did that mean? The song ended, scaring the crap out of me as I jolted back to the present and watched in smug satisfaction as Zane hopped off stage, and strode toward me. The crowd of needy extras parted. His muscled body swayed through the bodies of women. And then he was pulling me into his arms, twirling me around and biting my neck with his fake teeth. “How’s that for your vampire fantasies?” “Wow, it’s everything I ever thought it would be.” A girl next to us fainted. A paramedic was called. “Hmm, too much?” he whispered in my ear. “Clearly.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me through the gathering crowd around the paramedics, through long lines of costumes, and finally to the back of the loud, dark room.

In two seconds, my hands were on his jeans ripping them down to his knees while he lifted my skirt above my hips. This was getting ridiculous. We were in public. His blue and white eyes looked crazed, as his hands shook against my skin. “Need you.” His voice was no longer commanding, but a soft whimper. “Where are your marshmallows?” I asked in a trembling voice. His tongue snuck out across my neck as he whispered, “I replaced them with something sweeter.” He placed his hand against the wall above my head just as I reached for him. Our bodies joined. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered. If he’d just traded one addiction to another. But not really dealt with the underlying issue. The need to feel safe.

Chapter Thirty-Three Zane I HAD A HEADACHE.

That was the first thing I thought when I jumped off stage and made my way through the crowd. The second thing? I didn’t want a marshmallow. Stupid that my thoughts came in that order, but my normally twitchy sweaty fingers didn’t shove themselves into my jeans pocket in search of comfort. My eyes searched for her. But the crowd was stifling, nearly impossible to get through, and I knew I needed to kiss her, if I could just kiss her, the headache would go away, the nightmare would stop, and we’d celebrate recording the last two songs of the album. Together. After one kiss. Okay, maybe two. But the minute I touched her, spoke to her, bit her neck, I needed more, wanted more, the screams were making it worse, the heat. In an effort to get her away from everything. I’d pinned her to the wall. And just as I opened my mouth to confess—the headache, the possible meaning behind it—she pulled my jeans down. I should have pushed her away, confessed before I gave her one more piece of myself, before I took another from her, instead I let it happen. Because I told myself that maybe, being with her, would make it go away, the stress, the pounding. But four hours later, while in the studio, it was almost impossible to stare at the piano keys without my vision going blurry. “Everything okay in there?” Will said through the com. “Yup,” I lied. “Just tired.” “I know, let’s just lay this track and you can finish tomorrow.” “Right.” I swallowed the fear in my throat and rushed through the song, putting as much of myself into it as I could before my shaking hands braced the piano bench in an effort to steady myself. “Perfect.” Will walked in and gave a slow clap of approval. “Now, one more track, and you’re done. How’s it feel?”

I saw two of him. It was just a migraine. Never mind that I’d only had two in my life. One after the concussion. And now. “I think,” I whispered as fear snaked around my throat. “That you need to take me to the hospital.” Will’s smile froze. “Zane? What’s wrong?” “My head.” I tried to stand, bracing myself against the piano for balance. “I have a headache.” “Shit.” Will hoisted me to my feet with one arm and then immediately got on the phone. “No.” I shook my head. “No ambulance, it’s fine it’s—” My vision blurred again. “Yes, I need an ambulance sent to C Street Studio one-twenty-eight. Possible migraine, yes he’s at high risk for an aneurysm… No, I’m not sure, he hasn’t seen his specialist in six months. Was supposed to be on watch…no, no, no. Zane, can you remember your birthday?” I glared at both Will and Will. “I’m dizzy, not stupid.” “Yeah, he’s coherent.” Will rolled his eyes. The sound of sirens blared in the distance as we slowly walked outside the studio. And came face to face with about one hundred reporters. All with newspapers being shoved in my face. “Zane Saint Andrews gives up virginity to local girl.” It took a while to read. But once I did. I lost my shit. And tried to charge the crowd, only realizing that my legs wouldn’t cooperate as a cold sweat ran down my arms. “Zane!” Will yelled as the sound of sirens closed in. “Zane! Stay with me man, stay with me.” It was the last thing I heard before a numbing sensation took over and my entire life went black.

Chapter Thirty-Four Fallon I PACED THE FLOOR of the penthouse suite and tried desperately not to clean up. I mean I only worked

five hours that week, but it still felt habitual, to clean up the rooms rather than stay in them. Finally, out of boredom, I started folding the towels and then sat and turned on the TV. Zane still wasn’t back. And I probably needed to go to my own house, the whole I’m staying over with Mags probably wasn’t going to work every night this week, though I was going to at least try to sneak in one more night—the night he finished recording. I looked down at my phone and sighed. Fallon: Hey, how’s the song going? Nothing. I texted again an hour later. Maybe he was just in the zone. He was an artist, I could understand how he would be in a creative process that he didn’t want to jinx. The eleven o’clock news turned on. “Breaking story out of Seaside Oregon, it seems like vesting celebrity Saint, has been rushed to the hospital for exhaustion, this was shortly after being approached by media about reports referencing his virginity and a certain local girl, Fallon Miller. No details have been released yet by his team, but we hope everything is okay.” Stunned. I blinked at the TV screen, tears pooling in my eyes. Had Mags said something? My phone rang. “It wasn’t me! I swear I would never say anything!” Mags sobbed into the phone. “I swear, I love you guys I would never—” “He’s in the hospital,” I whispered hoarsely. “Is he okay? Has the news said anything else?” She paused. “You weren’t with him?” “NO!” I yelled, getting more and more terrified by the minute. “I was at the penthouse waiting for him.” “Then go!” “Go.” I mimicked. “Right. I need to.” This was not the time to hyperventilate. I needed to go to him. To see if he was okay. To explain it wasn’t me, to tell him how I felt about him. I needed to go. “Hospital.” I choked out. “I’m going to the hospital.”

“I’ll meet you there.” The phone went dead. How would I even get past security? For all I knew, he hated me right now. His whole team probably hated me. I jerked open the door to the penthouse and came face to face with Jaymeson. “I warned you.” He took a menacing step inside, his normal happy demeanor completely void of any sort of positive energy. “I told you what I would do if you hurt him.” “Jaymeson!” Wet tears streamed down my face. “I swear, I didn’t say anything! I would never go to the media, he’s more than just my friend I-l—” “Don’t.” He yelled his British accent suddenly more terrifying than endearing. “Don’t say you love him, you don’t even know him!” “He told me!” I swallowed back thick tears. “Everything! I know him, okay? I KNOW HIM!” “No.” Jaymeson’s voice softened. “You know what he allows you to know.” My heart twisted in my chest as Alec and Demetri wandered into the room, both of their expressions sad. “Whatever.” I tried shoving past Jaymeson. “I’m going to the hospital.” “The hell you are!” Jaymeson was back to yelling, this time reaching for my arm just before Demetri stepped between us. His cool blue eyes met mine. “I’ll take her.” “She did this to him!” Jaymeson lunged for me again. “Did what!” I sobbed. “I don’t even know what’s going on, just that he’s being treated for exhaustion.” “He could be dead.” The fight left Jaymeson, the anger. I wanted it back, all of it, because at least then I knew everything would be okay, but hearing those words, from him, in such a defeated way, chilled me, only to break me into tiny little unrecognizable pieces as my stomach dropped with fear. “You’re lying.” “He’s not.” Demetri wrapped an arm around me. “Come on, I’ll take you, none of us know anything yet, but Will wanted you out of the penthouse since people have been camped out at your house all day.” And suddenly I was just like Zane. Homeless. Lost. Afraid. I needed to talk to him, to explain to him that I cared for him, that I would never betray him—but it seemed it was more about my own guilt at what happened because apparently the only boy I ever wanted to sleep with ever again—was fighting for his life. And had failed to tell me why.



Chapter Thirty-Five Zane I WAS NUMB.

I felt numb. Maybe it was emotional numbness, like when news hits you so hard you have no choice but to deny the fact that you have feelings—I wish. “Here,” Will tossed me a bag of marshmallows. “No thanks.” I grumbled shoving them off the bed and onto the floor, they reminded me of her, of the pain I felt at finding out that she wasn’t who I thought she was. I’d given her everything. Except for one thing—the one thing that could potentially hurt her, hurt us. I refused to feel guilty for keeping one secret. The pounding in my head had died down the minute they gave me an IV of fluids, but it was still there. As was the fear that this was something bigger. Something I couldn’t control. “We’ll get news soon,” Will said in a hollow voice. “It’s going to be fine, Zane. You can afford the best doctors in the world, it’s not like this is the end, it’s probably just exhaustion.” “Great. I’m one of those. My relationship is getting splashed all over the world, #virginwatch is a trending topic along with #saintorsinner and we’re sitting in a freaking hospital room talking about a possible aneurysm that could literally tear and kill me at any given second, and exhaustion is what we tell people.” “Would you rather tell them the truth?” “The truth,” I whispered, “Sucks.” “This is the part where I tell you, you should have come clean.” I burst out laughing. It was ugly, not my usual laugh. It felt wrong. I didn’t laugh like that, not me. “So, open up my soul to the one girl capable of stealing it? Hand over my heart to the only one who can both keep and break it?” Will’s eyes widened. I frowned when he stood, grabbed my guitar, handed it to me, and walked out of the room. My hands shook as I slowly started strumming a few different chords and paired them with the words I’d just said to my agent. It wasn’t a ballad.

It wasn’t a love song. It was ugly. It was truth. Some of the prettiest songs are lies—the real ones, never get Grammys, never hit the Billboard number one spot, because they cause too much self-reflection. And nobody wants to admit to the ugly. Nobody. But I did. I’d admit it. I’d confess how dark my past was, I’d confess how she brought me into a light I didn’t see possible, how the pleasure with her went beyond anything I’d ever experienced—surpassing my wildest imaginations. The first verse would be the pain. The second verse would be the cure. The third would be the repercussions of trusting in imperfection to make you feel whole. Because that’s what life was about. Trusting the wrong things—in order to lead you down the path to the right things. My head still throbbed, but as my hands plucked the strings, as I wrote down different lyrics. I felt a bit freer. A bit happier. Even if my heart was still breaking. Because I’d given her everything—right? “Hey,” Jay’s voice interrupted the last chorus as he knocked on the already open door then let himself in. “Any reason the nurses outside are all sobbing like you just had a puppy sacrifice in this room? Because I can come back if this is a bad time.” “Puppy sacrifice.” I grinned. “There’s a thought. Think we can roast mallows?” “Too far.” Jay grimaced. “Says the one with a wild enough imagination to come up with heathen sacrifices of small dogs.” He grinned and took a seat. “So, not dead yet?” “Not yet.” “I yelled at her,” he confessed. “I told her she couldn’t visit you.” My heart didn’t know how to take that. I think in that moment it was so confused and upset that it simply just went to sleep for a bit, its slow rhythm reminding me that blood was still pumping, but that a part of it, wasn’t so sure it wanted to keep up the charade. “What did she say?” I whispered. “She tried to hit me, sobbed her eyes out, kept saying it wasn’t her, nearly collapsed against

Demetri, then charged me again. Then he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her into his waiting Mercedes where she’s been ever since.” “In his car?” I asked confused. “Why?” “She refused to get out until she could see you.” I smiled at that. “Sobbing either means she’s not guilty or a good actress,” Jaymeson said in a soft voice. “I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know her well enough, but this isn’t the time for broken hearts, not when your brain needs all the help it can get.” “I didn’t tell her.” “No,” he said in a dry tone. “Really? Shocked.” “It would have freaked her out.” “It freaks me out.” He scooted his chair closer. “Do you even realize how hard it’s been? Keeping this secret? Like you’re here for vacation when I know my house is the last house you may live in before surgery? That each moment you and I hang out, you could drop dead, do you think I enjoyed watching you hole up in the darkness every single day letting the anxiety get worse and worse? Shit, man, seriously?” “I’m sorry.” I put my guitar down on the bed and cursed for a few minutes before regaining my composure. “When I called, I just needed to escape, the album wasn’t coming along like I needed. I didn’t sleep because I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up. The anxiety was hell, probably because it was getting snowballed by the whole impending death thing….” Jaymeson sighed and reached down for the bag of marshmallows. “What are you doing?” I frowned. “Trying to de-stress…Zane style.” Jay popped two in his mouth and chewed. “It’s not working.” “Let her in.” “What?” A piece of half-eaten marshmallow tumbled out of his mouth. “She could be a lying treacherous bitch, and you want to let her in? On potentially the last night before brain surgery? Are you insane?” I sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just…I need to hear it from her. I need to see her say it wasn’t her, see her face you know? If it was her, I’ll know.” “You sure about that?” “Yes.” No. I just…I’d come to rely on my friend, on my other person, the one who promised to keep me no matter what the circumstances. But more than that, her arms were my security, her words a blanket. Which meant I needed to end things. What was done was done. It wasn’t fair to her—to kiss her today—to fail her tomorrow.

To take everything. To give all. And have an unhappy ending. It wasn’t fair. And I would be damned before I let her suffer with guilt and anxiety the way I had for most of my life—over something she had no control over. Yes, she might have betrayed me. But I was the guilty party. Because when she said thank you for telling me everything. I had remained silent. Silence was the devil.

Chapter Thirty-Six Fallon “HE DOESN’T MEAN IT.” “He’s harmless.” “He’s British.” All the things Demetri kept repeating over and over and over again, until finally, I glared at him and shakily grabbed my phone sending Zane another text. I had no idea if he even had his phone. But I had to try. Mags was in the back of the car probably having a minor breakdown that she was with one of the members of AD2 while I was just so worried about Zane, I felt sick to my stomach. Fallon: Are you okay? Zane, I swear, I would never, ever do anything like this to you. Fallon: Zane! Please. I know I’m acting crazy, but I need to know you’re okay, that you’re breathing. Just, send me something. I don’t care if it’s mean. Fallon: I would never betray you. While sending the last text, a knock sounded on our window. It was Jaymeson, and his expression was angry. At least angry is better than sad. I could deal with angry. “He’s okay.” I said it as a statement, hoping he’d confirm. Jay jabbed his finger at me. “Hurt him, and I’ll use his cell phone, find that stupid cousin he claims has connections to the mafia, and pay them to make you disappear.” Demetri let out a low whistle. “Demetri, watch Mags while I take her in.” Mags nodded encouragingly while Demetri tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “At least our boy is still alive.” My stomach dropped to my feet when Jaymeson whispered. “Maybe not for long.” Our walk was tense, silent, chilly. I hated every minute of it. When we got to the hospital room, Jaymeson stopped and opened the door. “I meant what I said.” “I did too.”

It was a stare down. Finally, Jay sighed and hung his head, “Be good to him, Fallon.” With jerky yet numb steps, I went farther into the room as the door clicked behind me, and gasped as Zane looked up at me through pain-filled eyes. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. “Zane…” Tears welled. “I’m so so so—“ I choked on the last word and then reached out my hands, not really sure what to do. He held up his phone. “I know.” “No, I didn’t do it, I swear. I have no idea, I mean, I kind of have an idea, I was talking to Mags, defending you. We were in a coffee shop, and all I said was that you hadn’t slept with anyone, that she shouldn’t talk about you that way. I never came out and said anything, but I was so mad, and I should have told you the moment I happened—” “Coming to the damsel’s defense.” His smile was weak. “About damn time, Fallon.” “I wanted to try being the prince for once.” “How’d that work out for you?” “Bad.” I sniffled. “Really, horribly bad.” “I’ll say.” I sat on his bed and held my hands, twisting them together. “She would never say anything, I don’t know how anyone could possibly have found out, and Jay’s pissed, blaming me.” “Cameras with sound.” Zane sighed. “What?” His smile still looked pained. “The story was leaked by the store owner. He asked for a hundred grand for it.” “WHAT!” I yelled. “Who does that?” His eyes locked on mine with a desperation I’d never seen before in another person. “Sick people. Ones who see a quick way to make money.” I hung my head, guilt making my shoulders heavy. “Still, I shouldn’t have been talking about it.” “You mean, defending my honor?” I nodded. “It’s okay.” His voice was hoarse. “It’s fine.” He was too dismissive of the entire thing. “It’s not okay, but I’m glad you know it wasn’t me, that I would never do that to you.” I reached for his hand. He jerked back. His expression the same, sad, desolate thing, it had been when I walked in. “It’s not exhaustion is it?” My voice was wobbly, uneven, like I wasn’t sure of the words, like I

didn’t know my own language. He swallowed and shook his head. “Are you going to be okay?” He shrugged. “Zane…” I went from being unsure to pleading. “Please, just…tell me, tell me you’re going to be okay, and that it’s just a freak accident, like being dehydrated or going without marshmallows for too long.” He cracked a smile. “Remember the nervous breakdown everyone thought I had? When I got my concussion?” I didn’t like where this was going. “Yeah.” “I had a CT scan, typical when you have a concussion. They found something, they sent for another test, then another, then another.” My skin went cold. “I have an aneurysm, one that the doctors aren’t sure will heal on its own or need to be removed. It’s in a place where they are about eighty percent confident they can clip the thing without killing me, if need be.” I reached for his hand again, this time, he held it, too scared to be upset that he hadn’t told me. “Did it dissolve?” His voice was a whisper. “No.” “Is it…leaking?” “Not yet.” “So…you have to have surgery?” “I’m waiting to find out.” “What’s there to find out?” I jumped to my feet. “If they can fix it, they need to fix it!” “Let me see…” Zane sighed. “Ticking time bomb or Russian Roulette?” “Stop smiling!” My voice caught in my throat. “This isn’t funny! This can’t be solved by marshmallows or being naked.” His eyebrows shot up. “No?” “No!” I yelled. “It’s…this is bad.” I paced the room. “Did we call all the best doctors? Do you have them flying in? Are you going somewhere for the surgery? Can you even fly?” “We?” “Stop fixating on the stupid things!” I clenched my hands together. “Of course we’re a we. I’m keeping you, you promised.” Tears welled in my eyes threatening to spill over onto my cheeks. “You”—my chest felt heavy—“promised.” Zane held open his arms. I crawled into them, ducking my head against his chest while he ran his hands along my bare skin. “I want you to go,” he whispered, and I tensed. “You’ve kept me. I’ve kept you. Now it’s time for you to move on, Fallon. Not because I don’t want to live in a world where an us exists, but because I

can’t stand the idea of that world being shattered by a freak accident like my death. I refuse to go into surgery if you stay because I know you. I know you, Fallon. You’ll make me promises, you’ll refuse to leave my bedside. If I’m not okay, if I wake up, and I’m not the same, you’ll be stuck with this worship of the man I was, and that’s not fair to you.” He subjected me to an intense stare. “Or to me. So I want you to kiss me, I want you to kiss me so hard you can’t breathe, and then I want you to walk out of this room and go to college. I want you to outsmart every guy you meet, I want you to experience life to the fullest. I want that future for you, especially now that mine is so uncertain. Can you do that for me?” I sobbed against his chest. “No.” He let out a curse. “Why the hell not?” “Because…” Tears continued to stream, I couldn’t stop them, I couldn’t. “Because she left you, even though she had to go, she left you, and you needed her. And now you’re going to leave me, don’t you see? I need you. I need you!” I slammed my hand against my chest with little effect. “It’s unfair to tell me you’re going to keep me, only to toss me away when we need each other the most. It was unfair of your sisters to abandon you, unfair that you had to fend for yourself. And the minute you gave yourself to me, I swore I would never be that person. I swore you would never see my back. Ever.” “You have a sexy back.” “Be serious.” My lower lip quivered. “I am.” He ran his hands down my spine. “It’s gorgeous.” “Distraction won’t work. If you want me to leave, you’re going to have to physically remove me and note I’m not above using sex as a way to stay by your side.” “Damn it, stop being so stubborn.” His face twisted with anger. “Just go! What if I don’t want you? What if I’m tired of you?” I kissed him. As hard as I could. As hard as he asked me to. Until I couldn’t breathe. Until I couldn’t think. When our mouths broke apart, he let out a rough curse. “That wasn’t playing fair.” “Keep me,” I begged. “Please.” “That’s my line.” His eyes locked on mine. “That’s been my line all my life.” “And now it’s mine.” I kissed his hands. “Let me stay.” “And if something happens?” “You’ll know you were kept.” “Yeah.” He sighed resting his forehead against mine. “And so will you.”



Chapter Thirty-Seven Zane I SHOULD LET HER go.

It was my new mantra, the damned sentence kept going on repeat over and over in my head until finally I just tuned it out and watched as she made a little marshmallow tower on my hospital tray. “It’s going to fall.” “Shhh!” She placed a marshmallow on the top of the pyramid and pulled back just as it took a tumble sending the thing crashing down. “Ugh.” “My turn.” I rubbed my hands together. “You forget,” I licked one side of the marshmallow. “It’s about the lick.” Her face turned bright red. “I’d love to know where that little mind of yours went right now.” She turned redder. “That good huh?” I whispered, wishing like hell we weren’t waiting for the stupid results from the surgeon to see if we were moving forward or just waiting for my little bomb to go off. I would have loved nothing more than to lock the door, pull the curtain, and devour those red lips. “I can be quiet.” “Hell…” I wiped down my face with my hand. “Are you seriously trying to kill me?” She maneuvered her little body next to me, tossing a thigh over mine as her knee slowly raised up and rubbed against me. “Really. Quiet.” “How…” I cursed as she ran a hand down my chest and cupped me. “Quiet are we talking? Like church quiet? Library quiet? Parents are downstairs quiet—holy shit—” Her hand moved beneath the blanket and under my hospital gown, finger gripped around me and slowly began something I knew I wouldn’t ever want to end. “This quiet.” She kissed my mouth and pulled back. “See? No screaming.” A pitiful moan escaped my lips followed by another dirty curse as she moved faster. “No yelling.” She gripped harder. “Just. Silence.” The buzz of the hospital was the only sound. That and my heavy breathing. Just as a knock sounded at the door. She jerked her hand away and covered my lap with a blanket and pretended to be stacking marshmallows again while I was left wondering what horrible existence I must have led to deserve the type of pain I was experiencing. Not just pain, lust, blinding lust.

Shit. “Doc.” My voice came out hoarse, great. “How’s it going? How are the kids?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you hot?” “So hot,” Fallon said under her breath. I was going to strangle her. “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I’ll open a window later.” “They don’t open.” Still deadpan. Why couldn’t they have given me the funny surgeon? The one who works on kids and hands out lollipops with stickers that say I have an ouchie. “Right. A walk then.” I tried to tell my dick to stop straining against the blankets in blind search of Fallon. “Walks are. Awesome.” Fallon giggled. I elbowed her. The doctor ’s raised brows showed boredom and a bit of irritation as he crossed his arms and sighed. “With your permission, we’ve elected to do surgery.” “Surgery.” I repeated. The word tasted funny as it crossed my lips. “Do you think it’s completely necessary?” “Dr. Thomas has consulted on your case, and she feels if you were to leave today, it could stop growing, maybe heal itself, but if it doesn’t, it will eventually kill you. Perhaps now? Perhaps years from now. The point is, you need to get to Portland as soon as possible.” Fallon gripped my hand in hers. “Portland.” I sighed. “Okay, so are you guys discharging me now or—” “We have an ambulance waiting to take you. Dr. Thomas and her team are already prepping for surgery this evening. No eating anything until after surgery, you can have clear liquids and ice chips.” He nodded. “Any questions?” “Yes.” He turned, paused. “What are my chances in surgery?” He frowned. “Dr. Thomas is one of the top brain surgeons in the United States, you’re very lucky she chose to stay in Portland for—” I waved him off. “I don’t need to see her degree. I’m sure she’s great. What I want to know is, what are the chances that surgery will go well? That I won’t wake up needing to be spoon-fed oatmeal every morning while someone changes my diaper?” His eyes darted to Fallon and then back to me. “Attitude is everything, Mr. Andrews. If you believe it will go well, it will. If I tell you your chances are ten percent, you may give up.” “Ten percent?” He cracked the first smile I’d seen grace his grumpy face. “See? Already you look defeated. And

ten percent is a made up number. You’ll be happy to know Doctor Thomas has a ninety percent success rate with cases like yours. You’re in very good hands.” I exhaled. “Okay.” “She’s not family.” He directed this at Fallon. “She can’t ride in the ambulance.” “I’m the only family he has,” Fallon said in a stern voice. “If you need me to go marry him right now so I can jump in that ambulance that’s fine by me. But sometimes you don’t need blood to be family. Family is a word that means life or death, and this is one of those situations, which means I’m family.” His shoulders tensed. “But the fact still remains, you aren’t family.” “I’ll ride with her.” Yeah, he was going to murder us before I even made it to surgery. “You can’t just drive to the hospital!” “Who said anything about driving?” I shrugged. “It’s less than two hours away.” I squeezed Fallon’s hand. “We’ll get there just as fast.” “But we can’t monitor you.” “I probably need those discharge papers now,” I said in a cold voice. “Since my family…will be taking me to Portland.” With a scowl, he looked heavenward. “You’ll have to sign off that you left AMA—against medical advice.” “I won’t sue you.” “You still need to sign.” “Done.” He muttered a curse under his breath and started toward the door. “I’ll have someone check you out and give you the address along with your papers, remember no solid foods, only clear liquids.” The doctor ’s soft-soled shoes slapped heavily against the shiny tile floor as he stomped from the room. A sense of relief settled over me. Ninety percent. That was better than ten. “Sorry,” Fallon interrupted my thoughts. “I was just…angry he wouldn’t let me go, I mean clearly he doesn’t realize that I’m your assistant.” She was teasing, trying to make light of our relationship, trying to make me feel better about her place in my life, just in case, but I already knew, I was done. She owned me. “Well, I could have just told him you were my prostitute, that would have gone over better.” “Every man needs sex before surgery.” She nodded seriously.

“Yes! You get me!” I raised my hand for a high five. She rolled her eyes then hit it. “I need to stop encouraging you.” With a laugh, I brushed a kiss across her lips, “We should probably call Jay.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight Zane AN HOUR LATER, WE had a rented stretch limo.

With two SUV’s following. Alec, Demetri, and their wives plus the baby in one, and Jay’s crew in the other. Dani and Lincoln decided to ride with Jay, but I knew they were probably regretting it by now. Jay drove like a maniac and still managed to forget to drive on the right side of the road. Often. It was his thing, well that and threatening Lincoln, who was still sleeping with his wife Pricilla’s sister, Dani. Fallon read all of the instructions out loud while I tried to get her to underage drink so she wouldn’t stress out. She said no to wine, champagne, beer—everything. If you can’t have it—I don’t want it. That was Fallon though. She even handed me her chapstick for safekeeping. Ugh, I was so far gone if chapstick did it for me like a freaking promise ring or something. Her parents weren’t thrilled that she was traveling with me to Portland. Then again, all she did was explain the situation. They were completely silent, both of their expressions blank, purposefully blank. Like they were both afraid to stare at me with pity but at the same time, what could they do when their daughter left town with one of the biggest celebrities in the world, only to know, deep down, that she might not be the same person when she got back. Because that would all depend on the celebrity. And his ability to not turn into a vegetable. Something I couldn’t really control, no matter how much I wanted to. Her father ’s stern expression wasn’t at all helpful when Fallon ran around the house and started packing a weekend bag. “Son,” His lips thinned into a tight line. “These doctors, you trust them?” What an odd question. “Sir, I don’t know them.” His frown deepened. “Do you need me to come with you? Talk some sense into them? Maybe give them the run down on how important you are?” His grip tightened on the gun he was cleaning. I swallowed a laugh. “Because, I’d be more than happy to put my foot down.” “And if it just so happens to land on the doctor ’s foot?” I asked, smiling. “Then at least the doc will know I mean business.” His face paled. “I don’t trust doctors.”

“She’s one of the best in the country, but I appreciate the gesture.” I held out my hand to shake his, it seemed like the right thing to do. He stared at my hand then pulled me in for a gruff hug, slapping me three times on the back so hard that had I been choking he would have just saved my life—with every slap. “You’re going to be just fine.” His voice was gruff. “A father knows these things.” “I wouldn’t know.” It slipped out before I could stop it. He pulled back and nodded. “Well, now you do.” Quietly, he went back to cleaning his gun, stabbing something into the front of it. “Yeah.” I said in a low voice. “Now I do.” “Sit down.” He pulled out a chair. “Pacing makes a man nervous. Now, hand me the grease.” We sat in silence. No more words were exchanged on my end, but he felt the need to talk to me about gun safety for the next ten minutes. I think it was his way of getting me to relax. Oddly enough, it worked, and by the time Fallon and I got into the waiting limo, I was a different person from the scared boy who had walked into that house. All because another man had told me it was going to be okay. I couldn’t wrap my head around it or even logically explain why his words calmed me down—but they did. Maybe because he was logical, thoughtful, didn’t just throw meaningless words into the air because he wanted to be heard. People like Fallon’s dad spoke with purpose; they made you want to listen because it was rare that they spoke in the first place. He was a real man, her father. I liked him. Maybe in another life, I could have gotten to know him better. But that choice was getting ripped from me, just like my grandmother, just like the family I’d always wanted but never had. “Hey, it looks like they’re going to have to shave part of your head.” Fallon scrunched up her nose as she kept reading the discharge papers, “Just the right side though.” “That’s going to look hot.” I laughed as the limo pulled onto the highway. “Watch it become a trend.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s going to be a hashtag in a few hours.” “Yeah.” I had to focus on the teasing, because if I thought about someone cutting into my skull it kind of made me want to puke. The car fell silent. I wanted to be that guy, the one that cheered her up, that made her laugh, that walked around naked and belted out shit about marshmallows, but my happy was gone, it was currently circling the drain and wondering if it was going to disappear altogether or suddenly get a life raft thrown at it.

We were ninety minutes away from Portland. In ninety minutes, my life would change. I’d called Will, and he was already in Portland picking up one of his clients for filming, so it worked out. Yeah, let’s focus on that, how easy it was for everyone’s schedules. I groaned. At least my headache was gone. That had been caused by dehydration—the migraine was just what I needed to get my ass to the hospital though—both migraines I’d had in my life had shown symptoms of stroke. Lucky me. “Tell me the craziest thing a fan has ever done.” “Well, that came out of nowhere.” I chuckled, grateful for the distraction. As I turned to pull her into my lap, she straddled me, her dark hair kissing her chin and shoulders, taunting the living hell out of me. “Let’s see, the craziest thing was when a fan broke into my trailer and stole just my jeans and black boxers, nothing else.” Fallon squinted behind her black-rimmed glasses, I was thankful she’d decided against contacts in favor of her trendy new frames. I liked her this way. The way I met her, the way she blinked up at me with thick black eyelashes, blind as a bat and cute as hell. “That’s not very crazy.” “Story’s not over.” I tapped her chin with my fingers. “So, a week or so later pictures surface of this chick on Instagram, modeling my clothes, singing my songs, and writing in her own words about her undying love. At the end of each song, she would strip.” I laughed at the memory. “And light the clothes on fire then dance around it naked.” “No!” Fallon gasped with a smile, covering her face with her hands. “Was there a reason for the dancing?” “Well, after they arrested her for petty theft, the police questioned her and she said she was convinced that our spirits were one, and that all she needed to do was conjure my animal spirit through her own little spell and I’d find my way to her house and apparently to my burning clothes.” Fallon nodded a few times, pressing her lips together. “Wow, that’s…very special.” “Yes. That’s what I thought, how special that this strange girl is chanting and setting my clothes on fire. Special. Totally special. My heart might just burst with all of the specialness of it.” Fallon smacked me on the chest. “Don’t piss off your spirit animal.” “Or hers.” I shuddered. “Anyway, she apologized and deleted her account, and I didn’t press charges. Had she stolen my marshmallows though—” “—life sentence.” Fallon nodded seriously. “Death row.” “Absolutely.” “I mean who would do that?” “A madman.”

“You get me.” I dug my hands into her ass pulling her closer to my body as I stole a kiss. “I love that you get me.” “I get your weird obsession.” “It makes sense if you know me.” “You use them as a comfort.” I frowned. “Well, yeah, but also, they’re marshmallows.” “I’m not following.” “A basic food group.” “They are not!” “Aw, did you even pass your senior year?” I patted her head. “Humans need sugar to survive, don’t judge me for wanting to live.” “Now who’s crazy?” “Still the dancing chick.” “Hey, Zane?” “What?” “Can you take off your pants so I can set them on fire?” She asked in a deadpan voice. “Do you want my boxers too? Maybe my shirt?” “All of them.” She pushed away from me and held out her hand while bracing herself against the floor of the limo. With a jerk, I grabbed my shirt and tossed it at her face followed by my jeans and finally my boxers. I’d already taken off my shoes earlier. With a naughty grin, she hit the privacy button while the window slowly went up, blanketing us in so much sexual tension my body felt heavy. “Sex before surgery,” she whispered. “The only way to go.” “Agreed.” Breathless. I tugged her into my arms. She met me halfway, her mouth colliding with mine in a hungry kiss while my hands peeled away her thin white shirt and tossed it to the floor. Desperation filled every touch, every heartbeat as I deepened the kiss, losing myself in her, forgetting everything but the warmth of her skin and the way she moaned when our tongues slid against one another. I rolled down her leggings as her arms snaked around my neck, lifting her ass off me so I could tug the remaining part of the leggings and kick them to the tan carpeting at our feet. We were at our best when we were together. My mind couldn’t comprehend what would happen—if we were apart. “This is exactly the type of behavior I thought you engaged in before meeting you.” Fallon laughed against my chest, her fingers making little circles across my abs. “Trust me, you’re the first girl I’ve ever gotten naked in a limo.”

Her eyes brightened, “Let’s keep it that way.” “Agreed.” I kissed her mouth softly, then harder as reality crashed down around us. We weren’t on our way to a concert. We weren’t going on some crazy trip, jet-setting around the globe. We were going to a hospital. Where I’d get my skull cut into by a very sharp knife. We were marching toward what could easily be the end of us together. “Stop,” I whispered. “What?” She pulled back, her eyes hazy, her glasses somewhat askew. “I’m telling myself to stop thinking about it, to stop focusing on all of the bad. Before my grandma died, I would grab all the marshmallows I could, go into my closet, close the door, and listen to music.” Fallon was silent, her eyes filled with tears. “I made up stories about a life I never had, a life where I wasn’t starving, a life where my grandmother wasn’t sick, a life where I didn’t have to pretend to like being naked so grandma wouldn’t feel guilty about the holes in my shoes or the threadbare shirts I wore.” A tear slid down Fallon’s cheek. “Sometimes my anxiety got so bad, the anxiety that I was letting my family down, that it was like I couldn’t focus. So I’d say stop over and over again out loud to myself as I ate marshmallows and envisioned a better life.” “And look at you now,” Fallon whispered. “It’s not the money.” I kissed her forehead, “It’s not the new clothes, the houses I can afford to buy, the adoring fans, the Grammy’s—” My breath hitched. “Right now, in this moment, it’s you.” “Me.” Her lower lip quivered. “You hardly know me.” “And I was paying you,” I pointed out. Her gentle laughter washed over me like a healing balm. “I’m nothing special, Zane. I wish I could sit here and tell you I have something more to offer than any other girl, but the truth is, I’m just the first one to both reject and fascinate you.” “Wrong.” She really didn’t see it. “You defended me without knowing you could trust my word, you may be blind as a bat, Fallon, but I love that about you, because that’s how you walk through life, with this blind faith that people really are good, that life has something to offer us if we only try hard enough. You have more to offer than you could possibly imagine—because you’re one of the few people that still have hope that this life is good, that we can make something good out of the time we have. You’re good and I kind of love you for it.” “You love me for my goodness.” “Or maybe I just love you for seeing me.” “You deserve to be seen.”

“And kept,” I finished. “Yes.” She wiped at some tears. “Mine.” She swallowed the words from my tongue and all talking stopped. The music of our bodies joining, our breaths mingling, was more powerful than words, and when the moment was gone. When we slowly put our clothes back on. When the limo pulled up to the hospital. When it felt like my heart was going to stop beating out of fear. She reached for my hand and didn’t let go. When I stepped out of the limo, I wasn’t alone. Demetri, Alec, their wives, Lincoln, Dani, Jay, Pris, all joined us and just when I thought I couldn’t be more surprised. An old blue station wagon parked next to us. And out stepped Fallon’s parents. Her dad looked unsure, and then he shrugged. “Had to see for myself.” I didn’t cry. I was not a crier. It was a waste. Most emotion always had been for me. But something broke inside me, or maybe, for the first time since I lost my grandma, something started working again. Tears welled in my eyes as he gave me a stern nod and then folded his arms and addressed the rest of the crew. “I brought my guns just in case.” Lincoln burst out laughing while Jay looked one phone call away from making sure the police met us in the parking lot. “He’s harmless.” Fallon smiled. And together. We all walked into the hospital. A hodgepodge family of rock stars, actors, college students, new moms, newlyweds, a hunter, and a blind girl who used to stutter.

Chapter Thirty-Nine Fallon “I REFUSE TO BE the one who ruins his hair. Isn’t it insured for like ten million dollars?” Alec wondered

aloud while Demetri silenced everyone with a loud hush. After arguing for a few minutes, Demetri decided he was the most qualified to shave part of Zane’s head; he referenced one time when he’d cut Alec’s hair in his sleep and said it was practically the same thing, only without scissors. Every time he got close to Zane, he backed up and tried a different angle. “Just do it!” Zane clenched his teeth while Demetri paled. “I’ll do it!” My dad offered. “No!” Everyone said in unison while he shrugged, his only experience was skinning animals, I highly doubted that Zane wanted my dad’s hands anywhere near his person. Demetri took a deep breath and then muttered a curse. “I can’t. His hair ’s too silky.” “Come again?” Lyss, Demetri’s wife, rolled her eyes. “Did you just call his hair silky?” “Oh please, like you haven’t been thinking that this whole damn time!” Demetri fired back while Lyss shrugged. “Well.” Zane nodded toward me. “You’re up slugger.” “Yes, because shaving the side of your head is just like baseball.” “She was the team manager!” My mom said cheerfully, as if that was going to make him have more faith in my ability. “Thanks, Mom.” I grumbled. “I bet you served a mean Gatorade.” Demetri winked. My face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, she did!” Mom crossed her arms as if she was proud that I knew how to put liquid into a cup. “And she always brought the best snacks.” “I want snacks,” Zane said under his breath in a voice that made me want to slam my mouth against his. “I bet if you get past third base she’ll give you a snack.” Demetri said in a completely bored tone, his wink toward Zane was the only indication he meant a different type of snack than my mom was referencing, more of the sexual snack not the carrots and peanut butter variety she was currently sharing with the group. “First base is always the hardest,” Jay piped up out of nowhere. “Really?” Alec joined in. “I always thought it was more rounding second.”

“Hell, no.” Lincoln rolled his eyes. “It’s trying to slide into home.” Jay growled in his direction while Dani blew her brother-in-law a kiss. “What’s so hard about slamming a ball into the field and making it home?” My dad wondered aloud. “Son, if you need help with your bat, just ask, I used to be quite the slugger, right Stella?” My mom blushed. Demetri’s grin widened. “I would love to hear tales of your glory days.” “Okay!” I clapped my hands gaining everyone’s attention before my dad started drawing diagrams about baseball and the guys started deciphering it as sex advice. “So it looks like I’m going to shave Zane’s head.” “Not the whole head.” Zane jerked away from me. “Half the head, like a quarter of the hair.” “Here.” I shoved a bag of marshmallows against his chest and laughed while he bit down hard on one of the mallows like I was about to perform a surgical procedure. “Remember, you can’t swallow.” Demetri choked on a laugh. I ignored him. The razor buzzed loudly as I quickly ran it above his left ear. Zane kept his eyes closed. Demetri had his phone out, documenting the entire thing. Wavy black hair fell against Zane’s shoulder, and some of it floated to the floor. My heart sank a little. But it wasn’t about the hair. It was about the man. “Very brave,” Demetri teased. “You do realize she’s legally blind.” “Hey, I’m wearing my glasses. At least I think they’re mine.” I squinted around the room, enjoying the looks of abject horror on some of the faces. I settled my gaze on Zane and smiled. “And I think I did a good job!” Alec whistled. “I’m trying to figure out how he looks better with half his hair gone, asshole.” Zane smirked while Linc and Alec shared confused looks, it was true though. Somehow, he’d gone from looking just sexy to dangerous sexy all because I cut off a bit of his hair. “Now trending on Zane watch,” Demetri said in a low voice. “Saint cuts off his hair like Samson. The question is, has he lost his strength or gained it? Details to follow.” “You clearly missed your calling as a newscaster.” Lincoln laughed. “If you ever lose the ability to sing you could work for TMZ!” “I have many callings. Many talents.” Demetri high fived Lincoln while my mom knelt down by Zane’s feet and picked up the hair stuffing it in a napkin. “Uh, mom?” I frowned. “What are you doing?” “Please tell me you’re selling it on eBay.” Demetri pleaded.

“Oh.” She shrugged and patted Zane on the shoulder. “I just thought, you could keep it as a memento. You’ll look at this hair, well I mean not all of it, but the part you keep, and you’ll remember the day you and your friends courageously faced scary circumstances together, as a family, and came out on top.” Mom was simple like that, she didn’t think before speaking, she wasn’t passive aggressive or meticulous in her thoughts, she said what was on her mind which roughly translated into her being proud of Zane. I wasn’t sure if I needed to tell him that or if he gathered it from the way she beamed at him as though he was about to save the world. “Knock-knock.” A feminine voice interrupted the moment. A tall woman in her mid-forties walked into the room. She had a beautiful smile, and long, dark hair that was pulled back into a tight braid. And pink fingernail polish. I don’t know why that was important, but it brought me an odd sense of comfort when she introduced herself. “I’m Dr. Thomas, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Zane.” She was looking at him, not through him, I liked her already. He held out his hand. When she took it, she flipped it over and frowned at his calluses. “Guitar player, and here I thought you favored the piano.” He grinned. “I like both.” “Well.” She pulled her hand back. “Then we’d better remove that pesky aneurysm so you can get back to it.” She went over the protocol for surgery. All in all, it wasn’t a very long procedure. I mean, it wasn’t the safest surgery, but she made it seem like she could do it in her sleep. Small incision, insert metal clip across the bulge where it rose from the blood vessel, sew him up, and ride off into the sunset. “Alright.” She rubbed her hands together. “My staff will be by in ten minutes to prep you for surgery. Let me know if you have any more questions.” She breezed out of the room. Ten minutes. That’s all I had with him. It took two more minutes for him to hug everyone else in the room and an added three minutes where he and my dad talked in low, hushed voices. My dad pulled him in for a hug slapped him so hard on the back that I winced, and then walked out with my mom. Leaving us alone. By my calculations, we would have maybe five minutes before nurses came back in and took him from me. “So.” I forced a grin. “You and my dad are best friends now?” “We both like meat.” Zane nodded seriously. “So basically we’re soul mates. Don’t even get me

started on his love of s’mores. From what I can tell, it borders on indecent, and I can’t have you picturing your father in that way, Fallon.” I burst out laughing. “Noted.” “Come here.” “Here.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m right here.” “You will never be close enough.” I frowned. “I always want you closer, I always crave more closeness than what’s physically possible without merging our bodies together in some sort of weird twin way—that frankly, sounds a bit extreme if you ask me.” Laughing I touched my forehead to his. “Don’t be weird.” “You do know me, right? Anxiety, a bit anti-social, runs when girls chase him, has this weird obsession with marshmallows, likes to be naked, hates crowds, thinks that cheese is stupid.” I gasped. “You hate cheese?” “All cheese.” “Zane!” “Oh shit, is that a deal breaker?” I loved his smile, the way it made his eyes crinkle at the sides, the way his lips curved over a perfect row of straight white teeth. “How can you think cheese is stupid?” “I figured our first fight would be over something more serious like my need to constantly be naked or the weird habit I have of watching you while you sleep.” My jaw dropped open. “You watch me sleep?” “No.” His headshake morphed into a nod. “I mean, watch is such a creepy word. I like to stare adoringly down at your cute little nose and sexy-as-hell mouth.” “You think cheese is stupid, and you watch me while I snore.” “You snore like half the time, and are we still stuck on this whole cheese thing? Shit, I’d hate to see your expression once I tell you I used to be afraid of Giraffes.” “WHAT?” I yelled. “They’re God’s most gentle creatures and one of the few animals that doesn’t terrify me!” “Nothing should have a neck that long. Also, I don’t buy this whole belief that they only eat plants.” Zane shuddered. “Have you seen the size of their tongues?” “Hmm.” “What?” He tugged me closer to him. “Nothing, you’re just a lot weirder than I thought.” “Says the girl who’s afraid of antelope.” His chuckle was warm against my neck, and then he sighed. “Tell me that despite all my weird quirks you’ll still be waiting for me after surgery.”

“Always.” I forced myself to paste a smile on my face, to be the strong one when I wanted to sob against his chest and beg him not to go in. But then again, what was the alternative? Death? Nurses shuffled into the room. And it started. That numb, cold feeling went from my head all the way down to my toes, my chest felt heavy with dread as I kissed him on the mouth. “I’m keeping you, Zane.” “Good.” He cupped my face, his fingers grazing my lips. “I’ve always wanted to be kept.” It was turning into our thing. And I loved every minute of it. “Fallon?” “What?” “Keep the marshmallows safe.” He handed me an entire bag of marshmallows, it wasn’t open which was rare if you knew him at all, but I figured he just hadn’t jumped into his stash yet. “I’ll guard them with my life.” I smiled through my tears. “I knew I could count on you the minute you tripped over your own feet and nearly humped a trash can.” He winked while one of the nurses frowned over at me. “Very funny.” With a heavy sigh, I backed out of the room and numbly allowed my legs to carry me down the hall to the waiting room. Surgery was fast. He would be in surgery within minutes. And then the clock would start. “Please let him be okay,” I whispered to myself as my mom and dad flanked me on both sides and held my hands. “He’s lucky to have you,” Jaymeson said quietly from his spot across the room. “We all are.” “Are you being nice to me?” He smiled. “I’m the nicest out of all the guys, I thought you knew?” “Bullshit,” Lincoln coughed out loudly. Jay sighed. “Okay well not to you, but you’re banging my sister-in-law, so forgive me for forgetting to be decent when I hear your shenanigans in the middle of the night!” “SHENANIGANS!” Demetri shouted so loud I nearly fell out of my chair. Everyone stared at him like he’d just lost his mind. “Sorry, I get excited when Jay uses big words. He isn’t the best speller.” “You’re”—Jay pointed at Demetri—“a jackass.” “I think we need to invest in a swear jar,” My dad muttered under his breath to my mom. “I need a new gun.” “Shenanigans.” Demetri smirked and then nodded to Jaymeson. “Hey, Jay, can you spell it?”

“F-U-C—“ “Okay!” I stood, wincing as I realized how close my outburst sounded to actually finishing his spelling. “Who wants coffee?” Lyss, Nat, Dani, and Pris raised their hands, of course all the girls were ready for an escape. We quickly made our exit while Jay continued to spell every naughty word he could think of in front of my parents. I think the low point came when my dad asked what a certain sex toy was and then asked my mom if it was physically possible—after all, she was the gymnast. Maybe I should have taken Zane up on the offer for alcohol in the limo. “Two hours max,” Lyss said in a confident voice. “And then you’ll get Zane back—just make sure he has some marshmallows.” I laughed as most of the girls walked ahead of me, leaving Dani behind. “I love him,” Dani said in a low whisper. “Not the way I love Linc, but I do love Zane. He’s special. Do me a favor.” She placed her hand on my arm. “Don’t stay if you don’t plan on sticking around— because he doesn’t deserve that, someone who will only be here during the good times and run when things get hard. I’m done watching Zane run.” “Good.” I pulled her in for a hug. “Me too.” She slumped against me as a sob broke out. “I’m terrified he’s not going to be the same, and his differentness is what makes me love him.” It was weird, comforting her when I was technically the girlfriend, the one who was attached to him in ways she couldn’t possibly imagine, but it helped me deal with my own fear and grief, knowing that I wasn’t the only one barely holding it together. “His uniqueness is what makes him amazing,” I agreed. “And if we’re lucky he’ll just get weirder after the surgery.” She laughed. “Did you know he thinks cheese is stupid?” She gaped, her mouth moving as though she wanted to speak but nothing came out. “He’s scared of giraffes too, something about long necks?” I conveniently omitted the miniscule detail of my antelope anxiety. And that’s how I spent the next two hours: swapping Zane stories and making plans to make him a marshmallow castle—he just had to wake up from surgery. He just had to wake up.

Chapter Forty Zane A HEADACHE THAT FELT a hell of a lot like someone had run me over with a semi-truck set up camp near

my temple just above my ear. The pounding was so intense I wanted to take a hammer to my head just so it would end. “Hey there, sleepy head!” The woman hovering above me winked as my blurry vision focused in on her. “The surgery went fantastic, no hiccups, though we aren’t sure of any side effects until we keep you for the next week, alright?” “Alright.” I answered. “Good!” She blinked or winked. “Your speech sounds good, why don’t you tell me your name and what you do?” “Zane Andrews,” I frowned. “And I’m…” My brain tugged at the information like I was in a fog. “Amazing?” She burst out laughing. “Try again.” “I sing.” My lips moved ahead before the memory could pull. “Saint.” Memories of concerts assaulted me, arriving in Seaside. “Girls throw their bras in my face, and I sign boobs for a living— I’m recording my album.” Details were still fuzzy, but they were there, I just needed to relax a bit, but something, something felt wrong. I just wasn’t sure what. Maybe it was the headache? They rolled me back into an ICU recovery room and tilted the bed up so I could at least see in front of me, it was more comfortable than being on my back. “He’s alive!” Jay made his way into the room followed by an impressive crowd of familiar faces, or at least semi-familiar. “Glad you made it, man.” “Me too.” My voice sounded scratchy, which was probably normal since they put me under. I still felt off. Like something was wrong, but maybe it was because I’d evaded death? Maybe that was it? The trip to the hospital had been emotional and… The smile on my face fell. How did I get to the hospital? A car? No, I didn’t drive. An ambulance?

No, I’d said no to the ambulance, but why? I couldn’t remember, and every time something familiar came forward, I couldn’t grasp the memory, it floated out of reach. Suddenly a girl burst through the crowd of people, marshmallows hanging from her hands. Tears streamed down her face. “You’re okay! Tell me you feel okay?” “I’m okay.” I answered dumbly. “Have we met?” The room fell silent. Shit. Her voice was familiar, her face was even familiar, but there was no attachment. I knew I should recognize her, I could tell it was important, she was really pretty, with big thick black-rimmed glasses and large eyes. Her full lips pressed into a fake smile. “Um, I was guarding the marshmallows.” It was a huge effort on her part, I could tell, not to burst into tears or maybe even slap me. Her lips pressed together into a thin line, her lower one trembling with ferocity while she clung to the marshmallow bag as though it was a lifeline. She was important. I knew she was important, I just didn’t know why. Hands trembling, she handed over the bag of marshmallows to me and then excused herself from the room. Linc ran after her. And the rest of the group stared at me like I was a complete stranger. “How far back do you remember?” Demetri asked in a sober voice. I frowned. “I don’t remember getting here, I mean I remember parts, but everything’s spotty. I recorded with you guys, a few weeks back and have been holed up in the house ever since.” My body rejected that falsity. “Or wait, that’s not right. I recorded a few kick ass songs, I remember nearly killing a piano in the process.” Demetri’s face was tight. “What’s the date man?” I shrugged. “March twentieth.” Alec mumbled a curse and responded. “That was over four weeks ago.” Most of the faces that stared at me were familiar, one of them in particular, an older gentleman held a woman’s hand, they seemed so nice, I wanted to talk to them, I wanted to hug the guy for some reason. I hated that I didn’t know why. “I should know you, too.” I directed it at them. “Shouldn’t I?” “Pretty sure all he needs to do is clean a gun in front of you and synapses will start firing,” Demetri said in a teasing tone. “And the girl?” My voice shook, “The one who ran out of here?” Jay’s eyes locked on mine. “You love her.” “What?” My heart swelled, and my next breath stalled. “What do you mean?”

“She’s your girlfriend, son.” The man spoke with an easy smile. “But this here is a lot to take in after surgery, why don’t you rest a bit? We’ll all get some food and come back.” “Okay,” I whispered, hating myself for letting them down, for having nothing but fuzzy gray areas where the last four weeks should have been. “It’s going to be fine.” Jay slapped me on the shoulder. “Eat a marshmallow.” Hah, my stupid answer to everything, at least that was still the same. When they left, the headache worsened, I gripped the bag of marshmallows like a lifeline, then opened them, in desperate need to calm the hell down. When I poured them out, a note fluttered onto my lap. To Zane: From Zane I knew you’d go here first. We are so freaking predictable. Look, the doc and I had a long talk while Fallon was in the bathroom. She was worried that I’d have some memory loss after the surgery. The good news, it’s probably short term, it should heal itself, it’s mainly just from the trauma, which is great. But it’s going to hurt her. You’re going to hurt her without realizing it. Unless I’m an ass, and you’re totally fine right now, so if I’m an ass go screw your girlfriend and slap yourself on the back for being a modern day superhero, but if not, I kind of made a little fail safe. I stored as many pictures as I could of us with Fallon. I want you to know how great she is, because here’s the thing—even if she’s a stranger to you now—she won’t be for long. Girls like Fallon are impossible not to fall in love with, and you’re a lucky bastard if you get to do it twice. Because that’s the thing, Zane, man, we love her, we love her so much. She knows about the foster care. About grandma. The marshmallows. Hell, I confessed I hated cake and look she stuck around! The point is this, I figured you may need a story. Listen to the songs on your album, they’re here, every damn one. Look at the pictures. Embrace life, because you’ve been given a second chance with a very special person, one who wants to keep you. Forever. But you have to want her back—and right now, she’s probably hurting, so your job, your mission if you choose to accept it: be the Zane women fall in love with while singing on

stage, be the guy that chases after the girl. Be the guy that Fallon deserves. Kiss her. Love her. Let her help you remember. Because the love she has for you? There’s no chance in hell it’s so weak that a simple cut into your brain would remove it. Go. Try not to be a jackass. Oh and by the way? That girl stole your virginity—you offered it to her, the same night, she gave you her heart. Tread lightly—hearts are breakable. From, Zane (pre-surgery)

Chapter Forty-One Zane WITH SHAKING FINGERS, I folded the note up and greedily searched around for my phone. My stuff was

in the corner, neatly folded, my phone had to be there. “Come on Zane, you can do this, just a few steps.” My legs slid over the side of the bed while nausea tossed my stomach in circles. Five feet. I could go five feet. Right? I pushed up onto two very wobbly legs. My body felt so weak it was ridiculous. Two steps felt like a freaking marathon, and I wasn’t even all the way there yet. Three steps and sweat was pooling in the palms of my hands. Almost there. Two more steps and I leaned against the chair ruffling through my clothes until my hand came into contact with a cold object. Another note was attached to the phone. Good job you bad ass, you took your first steps! No, but seriously, I’m glad you made it. The other side effect is learning how to walk again. Your headphones are in the back left pocket of your jeans. The tracks from the last few recording sessions are under the usual session folder in your music. Just a suggestion, but maybe look through the pictures named Fallon while you listen, it could help. Every little bit helps. I had to give myself credit. I’d been prepared. And if memory served right, I’d only been given a few hours. I froze. Two hours? The headache. My head started to pound all over again. I was recording at the studio. The news had upset me—why was I upset about the news? “Baby steps,” I muttered to myself as I slowly shuffled back to the bed, pulled on the blankets and shoved my headphones into my ears.

I clicked on the first track and scrolled over to my photos. The minute the first song started playing, chills erupted up and down my arms. “I need you to tell me I’m worth it. I need you to tell me that when you walk away, it’s because you want me to beg you to stay. Be my addiction—it’s always my aim—to make them fall at my feet—to make them beg. Until you, I wanted it all—but had no idea of what it meant—until you. Say it now. Say it once. Say it twice. When you say it, you better mean it. Hearts can’t break twice. Hearts can’t break twice.” The music swelled, calming my headache down as the pictures of Fallon and me flooded the screen. A lot of the pictures were at the house or on the beach and every single time I had my guitar with me or a pen and paper. A few of the pictures had been taken at sunset. She was looking out at the waves. Playing with the sand, her hair whipping wildly around her face. Another one she didn’t have glasses on. No glasses. And a really short dress. It was dusk. “Take me home,” she’d whispered. “You’re my home.” My own voice floated around in my head as the song ended. The very next song was about home. The third one was an angry ballad about fighting. The fourth—the fourth was about sex. Damn. I’d slept with a girl—the only girl—and I somehow couldn’t conjure up the memory? Seriously? Maybe if I just propositioned her again. Right, I’m sure that would go over well. “Hey, I don’t remember you but will you take off your shirt? I think staring at you naked may jolt my memories.” I groaned and then nearly dropped my phone as the pictures shifted into something much more private. Fallon sleeping.

In nothing but a sheet. A selfie of both of us in bed drinking coffee. My guitar lying next to her naked thigh as the blanket curved around her hips just barely covering her nakedness. I gaped like a teenager. She was gorgeous. The next photo was a video. I turned off the music and pressed play. “Fallon, Fallon, wake up.” I plucked a few chords from my guitar and chuckled while she moaned in her sleep. “Fallon, don’t you want to play?” “Go away,” she grumbled, throwing a hand in my general direction. I set the guitar down and held the phone closer to her face. “You’re beautiful.” “You’re just after more sex.” She yawned and refused to open her eyes. I backed away and whispered into the phone. “I think I could love this girl.” The video ended. Another picture of Fallon and me kissing in a hotel room that looked familiar. I went back to the pictures of us in bed. Just as a hand waved in front of my face. “Shit!” I fumbled to turn the phone over and jerked off my headphones. “The hell! You scared me!” Jay’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you looking at tits? Be honest, man, I won’t judge.” “No!” My face heated like I really had been looking at porn or something, and I rubbed my eyes. “Just…pictures, trying to jolt my memory.” “She wants to see you.” My head nearly came off my body as I jerked to attention. “Fallon?” “No. The queen.” Jay said in a dry tone. “Yes, Fallon, the girlfriend and marshmallow hater.” “She hates marshmallows?” “Holy shit, you should have seen your face. It’s not like she drowns puppies, man, and no, she doesn’t hate marshmallows.” I let out a loud exhale. “Why isn’t she familiar?” “She will be. The doctor said this is normal, and in a few days we’ll all laugh about this.” “I hope you’re right.” “Good news!” His smile was bright. “You should make a full recovery, right?” “Yeah.” “Chin up, mate.” Jay winked. “There are worse things than having a pretty girl waiting to take

away your virginity again.” I closed my eyes. “I can’t deal with you right now.” “You’ve never been able to deal with me. Why should now be any different?” “Go.” “Have fun.” Jay waltzed out of the room. Meanwhile, my palms were sweaty, my body was itchy, and I was suddenly very aware that I probably smelled like surgery and sweat and hospital. The hell? We were already together, right? So she had to love me the way I was. But I would do anything for a shower and cologne. I’d probably murder Jay just so I could brush my teeth. “Hey.” Fallon breezed in the door, her face bright and happy like she wasn’t depressed that the first words out of my mouth had been. “Do I know you?” Auburn hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her glasses were perched on her nose, they made her look adorable, pretty and smart. She looked like all of those things, things I knew that I would be attracted to. But how? “How did we meet?” I blurted. She stopped walking, her gaze dropping to the ground before meeting mine again. I thought I’d upset her until I noticed it wasn’t anger but embarrassment. With a chuckle, I patted my bedside. “I have a feeling I’m going to love this story.” “Why!” Fallon looked up and threw her hands in the air. “Once was enough. Being embarrassed in front of you is kind of my thing.” “Is it?” “I’m really good at it, might make it my new profession.” Her red face was cute as hell, I wanted to touch her, cup her chin, taste her lips. She sat on my bed, careful not to touch any part of my body, and hugged herself. “My best friend is a lunatic, not fit for normal society. The first time I met you was her fault. The second time, she pushed me off the boardwalk, so you had no choice but to rescue me.” “I sound like a hero,” I teased. A light laugh escaped her lips. “Not exactly. More like, you saw a chance to get out of the house.” “Huh?” “Writers block. Anxiety. Screaming girls. You were all holed up in the house and used me as a tour guide.” “I did?” That surprised me a bit; I must have been really interested to go that far. “Yeah you totally paid me a million dollars and promised a new Ferrari if your first single hits number one.” Her face was stone cold, “But I declined out of the goodness of my heart.” My eyes narrowed. “I think you’re full of shit.”

“Maybe.” She lifted a shoulder in a half hazard shrug. “But it was worth a shot.” Her smile widened. “You did pay me for a while—” “What happened?” “Uh, how are you feeling?” She stood abruptly and paced in front of the bed. “Do you need the doctors? More marshmallows?” “Fallon.” It felt right. Saying her name. Her eyes flashed with hope, like maybe I recognized her because I knew her name. My heart sank. I wanted to be deserving of that look. I wasn’t. “Why did I stop paying you?” She pulled her hair out of the ponytail and then readjusted it. “I um, well, it—” She sighed. “Things got complicated. Lines were crossed. It didn’t feel right anymore for either of us.” “I like lines.” I grinned. She went bright as a tomato. “Tell me about these lines, Fallon.” “No.” “Yes.” I coughed. “I think I’m getting sicker—” “That’s not fair!” She burst out laughing. “And if you must know, we kissed.” “I would never stop paying you over a single kiss. I know myself better than that.” She shuffled her feet and looked up at me, her gaze traveling just above my head, so she wasn’t making eye contact. “We kissed a lot.” “How much is a lot? Like one kiss? Two kisses? Three kisses? How long were the kisses, were they timed? Was there tongue? And were we in bed? On the beach? Cut me some slack, Fallon, my brain isn’t working. Give me something to live for.” “You’re so….” She giggled. “You.” A frown marred her face. “But not. I mean this is you, this exchange is typical for us, but this piece is missing, an important piece, like the history of us, is suddenly gone.” “Fallon, come here.” She stayed rooted to the floor. “Please.” Slowly, she made her way around the bed. I held out my hand, when she took it, a spark of electricity filled my body like a slow burning fire as it roars to life. “Some of the history may be gone,” I whispered. “But the great thing about me not dying…is you can create more memories, more history, more conversations, more moments. Moments are forever, right? Look at it this way…” I cupped the back of her head. “I’m sure my old self, the part of my

memory that’s not quite firing on all cylinders hates me right now, that I get to do this as if it’s the first time—all over again.” She frowned. And I kissed her. I kissed her slowly, testing the waters, making sure she didn’t push me away. And something clicked. Not my memory. No, my memory was still fuzzy. But my body was on fire. Like physically, I knew it was right, being with her was right. My thoughts might be scattered—but my heart—was owned. By this girl. I knew that just as I knew that when I took my next breath against her lips, she’d sigh into my body and clutch the front of my shirt like she always did. I knew that when I kissed her neck, she’d squirm while simultaneously arching for more. I knew that when my hands dug into her hips, she’d try to drive her body into mine so hard that it would feel like I was getting marked. I knew her. I knew her. “I remember your taste,” I whispered against her lips. “I remember the velvet feel of your skin.” I frowned. “And you’re ticklish just above your hip bone.” Tears welled in her eyes. “How do you remember that but nothing else?” “I remember what’s important.” Our foreheads touched as her eyes searched mine. “And what’s that?” “That regardless if my memory ever comes back—being in your arms, is like finally coming home. I’m home. And I’ve never had a home—until you.” She gasped. “I’ve said that before haven’t I?” She nodded as tears streamed down her face. I kissed her again, licked away her tears, memorized her cheeks and the way they curved into a gorgeous neck that was made for my hands, my touch. I kissed her until my mouth hurt. Until I was afraid I was going to fall asleep still attached to her, and when I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, she tucked her body into mine and whispered. “Sleep.”

Chapter Forty-Two Fallon I SPENT A WEEK by his side in the hospital. We played poker with marshmallows as our cash, and he

wrote music—beautiful music about second chances and falling in love twice. His album was finished. Complete. Will stopped by a few times but seemed stressed every single time he was in the room. His phone never stopped ringing, and his eyes had dark circles beneath them. The last time I saw him, Lincoln was huddled with him in the corner apologizing about his sister, I wasn’t sure what that meant, but when I brought it up later to Demetri, he cursed for a good five minutes before briefly explaining that Lincoln’s sister Angelica was Satan in female form. Lincoln didn’t agree, but he didn’t deny it either. Slowly, Zane started gaining more and more of his memory back, but only pieces and most of them were only tiny pieces of me. I think the low point was when he remembered my dad’s name was Bill and my mom was Stella and then proceeded to ask my dad about hunting. He remembered my dad of all people. But not me? He kissed me every day, in fact, I’ve never made out so much in my life, but it never went beyond that, probably because it would be weird in the hospital bed, but it would also be like sleeping with a stranger—for him, not me. Will had given a statement to the media, but I knew it was still going to be really intense when we left the hospital, though I would be happy to leave it behind. Everyone had returned to Seaside except for my parents and me. “Kiddo.” My dad casually walked down the hall and held out a cup of coffee. “Your mom and I are gonna hit the road. We’ll see you tonight?” “Yeah.” For some reason, the fact that my dad was leaving had me more emotional than normal. I gripped the cup with shaking fingers and tried to keep my smile normal—friendly. “Fallon…” His pained expression made it so much worse because I knew he was upset that I was upset. “He’ll get there. He cares for you so much.” “I know he does,” I said in a hollow voice. “It’s just hard.” “I could always chase him with a gun, see if it jolts his memory” Dad winked. “Works for the foxes.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s a nice gesture, I’ll keep it in mind.”

He gripped my hand and walked with me into the hospital room. My mom was fussing over Zane like he was her son. I loved it. I loved it because I knew he’d never been fussed over. He’d been too young when his grandmother had died—it made me feel guilty for hating my bedtime routine in high school. Both parents made sure my homework was done, my teeth were brushed, both always tucked me in. Even last year I was still getting tucked in. I smiled at the memory. Zane would have committed murder to get tucked in at night. If anything, I couldn’t bring myself to regret the way things had happened for us because regardless of the relationship I had with him—I knew that my parents were slowly becoming something consistent in his life—and that made me happy. I would be happy that he had them. Even if it meant he would never have me—even if it meant I would never have him, the him I’d had before. He smiled at me, but it wasn’t the same teasing smile. He joked around with me—but he used kid gloves. He kissed me—but it was a kiss of exploration—not love, his kiss searched for answers—while mine simply begged to be enough. “Be safe.” My mom squeezed his hand and then in a fit full of completely unnecessary tears, she kissed his cheek. When they left, the room fell into silence. Zane was dressed in a band T-shirt and ripped jeans. He picked up his Ray-Ban sunglasses, shoved the rest of his stuff into his bag, and then held out his hand. “Ready to go?” I nodded. Body numb. Because at least in the hospital, I still had him. I still had Zane Andrews. But I wasn’t stupid—there was nothing keeping him tied to me—nothing except for guilt on his part and love on mine. How could a relationship last on that? It couldn’t. Thankfully, Demetri had leaked information to the media that Zane was flying home the day before we left, so no crazed fans were waiting for us outside. Though I would have welcomed the distraction, because then at least, I wouldn’t feel as awkward as I did every time he tried.

Tried and failed to be the man I loved. He tried to engage me in conversation the entire limo ride back to Seaside. We joked, we hung out —we were friends. No longer anything else. I tucked the memories of our nights together in my heart and swore I’d be thankful—after all, what were the odds it would have worked with a nearly blind girl and a rock star anyway? It was goodbye. It felt like goodbye more so now than when he’d gone into surgery. The closer we got to Seaside, the heavier my chest became, until it was hard to breathe, until I thought I was going to pass out. “Are you okay?” Zane gripped my hand. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” I nodded, afraid that if I used words, I’d puke or maybe just sob all over him—that wouldn’t be fair, none of this was his fault. And yet, none of it was mine. It would be so much easier to blame someone. But we had nobody to blame, just an unfortunate situation that miraculously ended up being okay. Except for us. We didn’t make it through surgery that day. I choked back a sob as the limo turned down my street. What was I supposed to say? How could I say anything? Zane wrapped an arm around me—I couldn’t take it anymore and politely scooted away, giving him a lame smile. “Thanks,” I whispered. “For taking me home.” “That’s it?” His voice was low, quiet. “Thanks for taking me home?” He looked hurt. “Zane, don’t do this.” I pressed a palm over my mouth to keep from sobbing. Once I regained control, I tried again. “It’s—it’s fine, okay? I get it. I swear I do! And it’s not fair to you to have to pretend with me. I want it to be real. We both deserve real.” “It is real.” His eyes pleaded. “I just need more time.” “Your album is done.” The elephant just dropped. “You have nothing keeping you here anymore.” “I have you.” “You don’t know me!” I yelled. “And it’s not fair to beg you to stay! It’s not fair to either of us. I’ll resent you if you don’t feel the same way, and you’ll feel guilty if you never love me. We can’t live like that.” He cursed and punched the seat with his hand. “I care about you. I like you.” “I know.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The truth hung in the air between us, the words he couldn’t say, the words I needed to hear. “Zane.” I put on a brave face. “You’re album kicks ass, you’ve been given a second chance at life, and you’ve completely shocked your friends by going down to only one bag of marshmallows a day. Your grandma would be proud of you. I’m proud of you. But it’s time to go.” His eyes filled with tears as he placed his hands over mine. “I don’t know what to do.” “Live your life.” I smiled sadly. “And if you ever remember me…” Words tumbled out of my mouth right along with my beating heart. “I’ll be home. Waiting.” “Home.” I placed his hand over my heart and repeated. “Home.” Too soon, I backed away. Too soon, the car door slammed. Too soon, my legs were taking me into my house. Too soon. Zane Andrews was gone. He’d entered my life like a bolt of lightning and left it like a hurricane, leaving me to pick up pieces I never knew had shattered in the first place, until it was too late. Zane Andrews had destroyed me—and he didn’t even remember doing it.

Chapter Forty-Three Fallon MY MOM AND DAD weren’t really sure what to do, and since I’d always been a relatively happy kid as

long as I didn’t have a ton of homework and didn’t have to eat my mom’s burned food—we were all in foreign territory. They ordered Chinese takeout. We ate at the table as we always did. Only this time, Zane wasn’t in his spot. The spot he’d occupied for the past few weeks, teasing me that even muses need to eat, but not my mom’s food. My parents showed him love because they knew I loved him. But I think they would have fallen in love with him if they would have had a chance to spend more than a handful of dinners with him. He and dad would have talked about guns and actually taken that hunting trip that Zane swore up and down he was still going to do even if he came back with holes through his skin. I wiped at a few fallen tears. He made my family feel like his friends too. He engaged in conversation because he was genuinely interested in others lives. And he genuinely wanted people to feel like they mattered. Tears welled in my eyes as I pushed around the sesame chicken with my fork going over all of the what-ifs. “Hey!” My mom clapped her hands together in excitement, and a fork clattered to the floor. “Why don’t we go get ice cream?” “Okay.” I swallowed my tears. She was trying. And I loved that she was trying. By the time we made it back to the house, it was dark and I was exhausted, I had to work for the next few days. I purposefully picked up extra shifts so I wouldn’t sulk at home or, God forbid, turn on Zane Andrews’ music and sob into my pillow wishing for something that was never going to happen. Like just another one of his fans.



“YOU LOOK REALLY BAD.” Mags elbowed me as we walked to the Seaside resort. “Like bad, bad. I mean, good call on wearing the contacts and at least trying to put on mascara, but maybe you should take a few days off?” I snorted. “He’s so famous he’s everywhere, his story is everywhere, Mags. The last thing I need is a day off. I need an escape plan.” She placed her hand on my arm. “But is that what you really want? An escape plan?” “What I want doesn’t matter,” I whispered. “At least not anymore.” “What if you just…” She threw her hands up in the air nearly taking out someone on their bike. “Tried?” “We did try.” “You kissed and played cards for a week straight, that’s not trying.” “It wasn’t the same, I’d catch him looking at me, like he was trying to figure me out. Do you even realize how that feels? Being a stranger to someone who used to be…” I shuddered. “Closer than anyone else you’ve ever been with? I mean, for all I know he’s wondering what his previous self ever saw in me.” “Stop that.” Mags pinched me. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, and if he doesn’t see how amazing your soul is right along with those giant brown eyes, then he’s an idiot.” I smiled. At least I had Mags. “So.” She popped her gum and stared up at the large resort building. “Five hours of hell, and then I say we binge watch something on Netflix.” “Bring popcorn.” I pulled off my sunglasses and numbly walked into the lobby. I refused to think about the last time I was there, but memories, the real ones, the ones that were tied to things like smell. They stayed. So when the smell of the hallway hit me. I thought of his hands on my body. When the elevator dinged, and I went to grab the cart and punch in, I thought of his nervous laughter. When I finally managed to wheel my cart down the hall, thunder sounded outside reminding me of that night. Reminding me that we’d made love all night. I was in his arms. Goose bumps erupted across my body. I hugged myself and forced tears back—it seemed like that was all I was doing lately, pretending to be fine, pasting fake smiles on my face and rewarding myself when I didn’t cry. As luck would have it, about an hour into my shift, I was moved to the penthouse floor. I rode the same elevator to the top.

And closed my eyes as the memory of his kiss burned into my brain. My cart got caught on the elevator door, with a curse I pushed it through and started the slow painful walk down the hallway. Luckily, I didn’t need to clean his room. Just five of them on the same floor. Room one took me an hour. Room two took me another hour. It was starting to get dark by the time I made it to a relatively clean room three. Room four was next door to his room. I think I stared at both doors for at least ten minutes before finally gaining enough courage to open the door nearest his. I knew he wasn’t there because the staff had been given strict instructions not to go inside until he was back. A door slamming caught my attention, around ten girls all dressed in short skirts laughed and made their way down the hall. One had a bachelorette crown on her head. “Hey!” One of them stumbled toward me. “Is it true that Zane Andrews lost his virginity on this floor?” “Yes.” I fired back defensively. “At least that’s a rumor, but you never know.” Why was I still talking? She frowned. “You look familiar.” “I’m one of the maids.” I ducked my head and grabbed a roll of toilet paper. “Hmm,” She tapped her chin. “I wish I was the one he gave it up to, lucky bitch.” “Yeah.” I sighed. “Lucky bitch.” She grinned and turned back to the group of girls just as the elevator doors opened. Strength zapped, I leaned against the cart and closed my eyes. Why did everything have to be so perfect? Only to fall apart. I promised I wouldn’t leave him if something happened, what we never factored in, was if he would ever leave me. And he did. He left. Oh, he’d texted. He’d tried calling. But it hurt too much. Everything hurt. And talking to him made it worse, it made me hope—hope was too cruel to play with. Better forget everything than hope that one day he’d look at me like he

used to. I checked my watch. I needed to at least get to another room. I took a sip of water from my water bottle and screwed the top back on just as the elevator doors opened again. And Zane Andrews. My Zane was walking toward me. With the same unfamiliar look in his eyes. And lipstick on his face. His stupid song had it all wrong—hearts can break more than once—mine just had.

Chapter Forty-Four Zane I WAS LEAVING IN two days.

I had two days left at Seaside. I didn’t want to leave—but what choice did I have? Everyone here had a life, and now that I was no longer running away from mine, it was stupid to stay. Right? The guys understood. But they weren’t happy about it. I’d completely forgotten that I had a hotel room in the Seaside Resort until Will called to remind me to go grab all of my shit before they sold it on eBay. I sent another text to Fallon as I made my way over to the resort. Still nothing. I missed her. It hurt. But the connection I knew I should have with her—wasn’t there, unless I was kissing her, talking to her. And she’d shut down. The person she was before surgery no longer existed because the person I’d been to her…was gone. I didn’t know how to get us back. I wanted to try, but I was afraid she was right, afraid she’d resent me if we never got back to the place we needed to be. Was that what I was doing? Leaving because I was afraid? The hotel loomed in the distance as waves crashed across the beach. A chill filled the air as rain started to pour from the sky. Great. Just fantastic. It was gloomy—it completely matched my mood. On the outside, life was perfect, I was going to start touring again, the album was my best yet. I’d semi-conquered death. And the anxiety was slowly dissipating along with the need to have a pocket full of marshmallows all hours of the day. But she was missing. The balance was off. And I hated it. I stomped into the resort and nearly bolted when a group of girls turned and started screaming all

at once. “Shit,” I muttered pasting a smile on my face as they charged toward me cell phones raised. The all-familiar sense of panic washed over me. But I had no rescuer. No Fallon. No bodyguard. With shaking hands, I signed autographs, took selfies until my smile started to twitch, and finally, stumbled down the hall, palms sweaty, ever present headache still pounding. Another awesome side effect. Headaches, though the doctor said it should only last a few weeks. Focus, Zane. I went to the penthouse floor and slowly made my way down the hall, nearly colliding with one of the maid carts. Fallon let out a little squeak. And I froze, like time had suddenly stopped in that moment, leaving only the two of us in the universe. Damn, she was so pretty. Even in her black pants and black Seaside resort shirt. A piece of hair stuck to her face. She swallowed, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” “Yeah well.” I licked my lips. “I was in stealth mode.” She smirked and pointed to my lipstick stained cheek. “I take it the bachelorette party downstairs discovered you?” “Warn a man next time.” I rubbed off the offensive pink lipstick and stared at her mouth. “Eh, I think I like that you suffered at the hands of the screamers.” She blushed and looked away. “Screamers, hmm?” “So…” She sighed and took a step back. “Do you need me to let you into your room?” “Holy shit, do you have a master key? Like Lord of the Rings?” “Just call me Gollum.” She offered a weak laugh and walked with me down the hall. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed a key card and tapped it against the sensor. She was trying to be normal. It wasn’t working. The door opened. “Are you okay?” I whispered, reaching for her hand. “No.” She looked up at me. “You’re not wearing glasses.” “Contacts from now on.” She cleared her throat. “I haven’t cleaned the room yet. The resort was under strict instructions not to disturb your creative process, so nobody has been in here for over ten days.” “Hmm,” I stepped into the penthouse and was hit with a burst of cold air as the curtains framing the

floor-to-ceiling windows whipped wildly in the air. When I turned around, Fallon’s eyes were fixed on the other side of the room. The door was open, light illuminated from the moon casting a glow across the sheets. Her breath caught. All of them hanging from the bed, draped across the floor. And a girl’s dress. A short dress. A pretty dress. Slowly, I took a few steps toward the bedroom, my brain buzzing like the universe was trying to tell me something. The lights above flickered and then everything went completely black. Everything but the white sheets. The white sheets and the windblown curtains. “I’m going to keep you.” Fallon had whispered as I rocked into her. “I’ve always wanted to be kept.” I fired back as our bodies joined over and over again. I stumbled backwards. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered. “Tell me everything.” She grabbed my hand. “Let me love you.” Broken. I broke. She broke me. And didn’t run away. She saw me at my worst. And held my hand. When I showed her my demons. She didn’t scream. She cried on my behalf. And when I needed someone the most—when I was searching for a home—she offered me her heart. I collapsed to my knees. “Zane!” Fallon screamed my name, footsteps sounded and then her arms were wrapped around me. “Is it your head? Do I need to call an ambulance?” Breath whooshed out of my tightened chest as I glanced up at her in wonder. “I love you.” “Wh-what?” Her eyes pleaded. “What did you say?” “I. Love. You.” I tugged her against my body and kissed her with every pent-up memory, every emotion, pouring into her not just my heart and soul, but the history of us, of what we shared, I gave

her everything in that kiss. My apology. My life. My world. Her arms wrapped around me. “No time,” I growled tearing at her maid uniform, greedy to touch her. She’d been lost to me. Not anymore. Already I’d wasted ten days. Never again. “I love you.” I said it again and again as I jerked her shirt over her head. Her shoes went flying, I pulled away every inch of clothing. I didn’t ask to love her. I just did. I slammed into her, filling her, completing me, and stopped as time around us seemed to freeze right along with us. “I remember everything,” I whispered, and with each stroke, I confessed. “Your heart.” I kissed her neck. “Your willingness to help me.” I pulled out then slowly inched myself back in as she cried out, tears running down her face. “Your laugh. The way you live life with everything you have.” I wasn’t going to last long. I was already on sensory overload. More tears filled her eyes and flowed over her cheeks as I picked up my pace, my hands digging into her hair, her mouth clawing at my shoulder as she screamed my name. “I love you,” I said one last time. “I missed you.” She tasted like salty tears. She tasted like Fallon, my Fallon. “Don’t ever let me go,” I begged. “Never again.” “I never did,” she whispered. “You’ve always been here.” She placed her hand on her own chest. “Home.” “Home,” I repeated. “Thank God for home.”

Chapter Forty-Five Zane MY WORLD OF GRAYS and fuzzy black turned into full color the minute I walked into that room. I had no

idea why. Maybe because that room signified a moment in my life when I finally let go and allowed someone else to help. My moment wasn’t just giving up my virginity to Fallon—it was about allowing her in. That room was the room I had bled all over. I’d cut my soul into pieces in that room, and she had managed not to step on the ones that were still hurting. Fallon helped heal me without even realizing that was what she was doing. That room represented everything I’d always wanted to have with another human being—but been too afraid to hope for. I collapsed against her and then rolled off. Her chest rose and fell with effort, and then her hand reached out for mine, fingers locked together, I closed my eyes as tears threatened to pour down my face. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You were just lost…for a while.” “It was a horrible feeling,” I admitted, leaning up on my elbow so I could look down at her the way she deserved to be looked at, with love, adoration, appreciation, “Staring at you and knowing something was missing but not knowing how to get it back.” She nodded and then her face crumbled into a mass of tears as she pulled me into her arms and pressed her face against my chest. It broke my heart, it killed me, those tears weren’t my fault, but they sure as hell weren’t hers either. “Fallon, look at me.” She pulled back and wiped her eyes. “I love you.” She nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.” “But you have concerts to do, and—” I slammed my mouth against hers. “Come with me.” Her eyes widened. “What did you say?” “So I’m leaving.” I shrugged. “Come with me. That is, unless you want to clean rooms here at the resort and honestly, if that’s what you want, if this is the dream.” I smiled. “Then I’m in…we’ll figure

out a way to make it work.” “Okay.” “Okay, you want to clean hotel rooms with me or okay you want to go on tour?” “Okay to everything.” She smiled, it was a real smile, one that reached her eyes, one that wrapped itself around my body and squeezed until it was suddenly hard to breathe. “Since I’m home, it only makes sense that you take me with you, right?” “Like a turtle.” I nodded. “You’re my turtle.” “Are you sure your head is fine?” She pressed a hand to my forehead and pulled back with a laugh. “No, actually, oh wow.” I winked. “I may need more sex. The doctor suggested as much sex as possible in order to…heal.” “Oh?” Her eyebrows shot up. “I don’t remember seeing any of that in your discharge papers.” “I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the parents. Plus, your dad carries a concealed weapon, enough said.” “True.” She kissed my mouth softly and lingered there. “Is this real?” I linked our hands together and kissed her open palm. “It’s real.” “When do we leave?” Happiness surged out of me in uncontrollable laughter. “When do you want to leave?” “As soon as we can.” “We can stay the night in Portland…” I said aloud. “Or go hang out with our friends on the beach one last time.” She sighed loudly. “Beach tonight. Portland tomorrow night.” “Deal.” “Zane?” He met my gaze. “I love you too.” “Of course you do, I’m Zane Andrews.” “And he’s back, folks.” I wrapped my arms tighter around him, needing my body to catch up with my brain—that he was with me, my Zane was with me, body and soul. “Remember, I was just lost for a minute,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine. “And then you found your way home.” “I never lost faith I would, even if you did.”

Chapter Forty-Six Fallon EVENTUALLY, I WOULD GET over the fear that it wasn’t real—I was probably driving Zane completely

insane. I kept staring at him. Wanting to pinch myself. I felt so giddy I almost skipped into the resort office. Instead, I ran, tossed my keys onto the table, and left. My boss yelled. I didn’t care. Zane was waiting for me outside the resort. The moon shone over the clear water; the storm had passed through. I grabbed his hand and stared up at the stars. “It was a good night.” “The best,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around me. While I’d been busy quitting my job, he had been busy texting everyone about a late night bonfire in celebration of getting most of his short-term memory back. He even invited my parents. I was already bracing myself for the crying from my mom and the celebratory slaps on the back from dad. “Wait!” Zane stopped and then winked. “As much as I’d love to go down to that beach with you, we have a problem.” I frowned while my stomach dropped. “Problem?” “Fallon…” He tsked. “I’m so disappointed in your lack of attention to detail. If you’re going to work for me, you need to be on top of these things.” “Work for you?” “Yeah, like a work study, you work for my corporation or me, I pay you. What could go wrong?” I burst out laughing. “Haven’t we already tried this?” “Hmm, doesn’t seem familiar.” “Zane!” I slapped him across the chest. “You can’t pay me to sleep with you!” “It’s completely legal, Fallon. I checked.” “You’re such a liar.” “I never lie. I’m like George Washington and his cherry trees.” “Apple.”

“Cherry!” “APPLE!” “Look, Fallon, I know you’re used to being the smartest person in the room, but I have two degrees to your one, I win.” I rolled my eyes. “So?” “Oh, right.” He kissed my mouth. “We need mallows, woman.” “You and your marshmallows.” His answer was a blinding smile. “You love it.” “I do.” “You love me.” “More than marshmallows.” “Blasphemy.” “Only you would think so.” I wrapped my arms around him. “Now, let’s go get the makings for s’mores so we can meet everyone, we’ll be late if we don’t hurry.” He kissed the top of my head. “Deal.”

Epilogue Will HE WAS BACK. Thank God.

His memory. His snarky weird-ass attitude and love for all things sugary and sticky. At least that problem had solved itself. I twirled the stick between my hands over the fire. I was exhausted. I love my job. I love my job. I love my job. I freaking hated my job. I was thirty, and I wanted to retire. I was an agent, partially because I was good at it, partially because when my boy band broke up, I didn’t really have a choice. I needed a purpose, and it was easy to go into the business side of things. I had an ear for talent. I loved managing musicians. I loathed actors. I wanted to strangle them with my bare hands, give them a little shake, then take them for a long drowning swim in the ocean. “You look like hell.” Lincoln sat down next to me and sighed. “And you’re burning your marshmallow.” Zane shot me an evil stare from across the fire, I held up my hands in surrender. “I wasn’t paying attention.” “She coming?” Linc whispered. “Hell if I know.” I let the sound of laughter float around me. It was nice, the laughter, seeing Zane dance around the fire with his girlfriend. Out of all of my clients—I loved him the most. I wasn’t supposed to pick favorites. Our clients were our children—God knew they acted like them most of the time, but Zane had always been different. More of a brother than a client. And watching him grow up in the industry had been a pleasure, a privilege. But as if the universe needed to remind me of the current hell I was residing in, the sound of a car door slamming jolted me out of my happy place.

And Angelica Greene marched toward me, her tiny hands clenched into fists, her face one of beautiful fury. Yeah. We weren’t supposed to pick favorites. And we sure as hell weren’t supposed to sleep with them. Granted, our history was just that—history. And I was her last hope. The only guy willing to work with her. Her final shot at stardom. “Sis,” Linc coughed into his hand while the gang around the fire grew quiet. Zane shared a horrified look with me. Yeah, I might have forgotten to mention that she was the new client. Jay held out his hand. “Glad you could make it, Angelica. Guys,” he grabbed her by the shoulders. “Most of you know Linc’s sister. She’s graciously agreed to star in the final movie—as you know, Jessica had to pull out due to her pregnancy.” Alec made a cross motion over his chest while Demetri looked like he was about five seconds away from throwing her in the fire. I wasn’t the only one who had history with her. She was known for burning bridges almost as much as she was known for her drug problem and inability to get over Alec Daniels. Hell, I was in over my head. “Hi.” Angelica found her voice and addressed everyone with a haughty expression that had me groaning out loud. Lincoln winced and then patted the sand. “Angelica, why don’t you sit, I know it was a long drive back from Portland.” Her eyes penetrated mine with ferocity. “Well…” Her voice always did remind me of sex, damn it. It was low, controlled, raspy. “I would have gotten here a lot sooner if my jackass of an agent wouldn’t have dropped me off on the side of the road with nothing but a twenty dollar bill and a cell phone.” Jay glared at me. I crossed my arms. “Well, maybe your agent wanted you to remember who’s in charge of your career. The same career hanging on by a thread. I’ve heard walks are good for dogs, you know, clean air and all that.” She gasped in outrage. Zane shot me a “really man?” look across the fire. But I was over it. So over it.

I was over it the day Angelica Greene walked out of my life and into my band mate’s arms. I was over it then. And I was over it now. The only reason I was even involved in it was because she had about just as much shit on me as I did on her—and most days I loved my job. She kicked sand onto my marshmallow. I loved my job. I loved my job. I loved my job. I hated Angelica Greene. Want more Seaside Pictures? Be on the lookout for the third book in the series, Steal: A Seaside Pictures Novel, Will and Angelica’s story.

About The Author RACHEL VAN DYKEN is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of

regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers! Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866! You can connect with her on Facebook or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. And make sure to check out her website.

Acknowledgments I hate writing these. There are always too many people to thank, because basically, I can't function as a human being on my own. There’s God, you know, who is just my everything. My husband and son who change my life on a daily basis. Jill. My amazing friend/sister/best friend/PA I mean really she does it all. Danielle: who doesn't freak out when I send her messages that say MAYDAY MAYDAY SINKING SHIP SINKING SHIP. There’s my rocking reader group. My amazing editor Katherine Tate. My readers in GENERAL who seriously make the world go round and allow me to do what I do. It doesn't take a village it takes a freaking country and that’s what it feels like for every release. Thank you to Skyscape my ridiculously awesome publisher for letting me do this self pub a bit early and offering EVERYTHING I need via Amazon to make sure it gets done right. To Erica, my agent, who really is the best agent and friend a person could ask for. I know that seems typical but for real. I love her. She's family. And she's amazing at her job, and she ALWAYS talks me from the cliff which his really helpful since it happens on a weekly basis. Readers out there, this story came from a special place in my heart. I've struggled with anxiety for years, and no matter what type of anxiety you have it can be absolutely crippling. But there is help out there, for me that help came in the form of writing, it became my escape, my own little outlet that I know God gave me in order to be able to function in society—whatever that outlet is find it and use it and know that there are tons of us out there that are struggling right with you ;) LOVE YOU ALL HUGS RVD As always you can follow me on Instagram @RachVD I ALWAYS post pics of Thor b/c COME ONE his name is Thor and he has no hair. Follow me on facebook or you can hang out with me on my website. To be kept up to date on my releases just text MAFIA to 66866 to gain access to my newsletter!

Also by Rachel Van Dyken Eagle Elite Elite Elect Entice Elicit Bang Bang Enchant Enforce Ember Elude Empire The Bet Series The Bet The Wager The Dare Seaside Series Tear Pull Shatter Forever Fall Strung Eternal Seaside Pictures Capture Keep Waltzing With The Wallflower Waltzing with the Wallflower Beguiling Bridget Taming Wilde London Fairy Tales Upon a Midnight Dream Whispered Music The Wolf's Pursuit When Ash Falls Renwick House The Ugly Duckling Debutante

The Seduction of Sebastian St. James The Redemption of Lord Rawlings An Unlikely Alliance The Devil Duke Takes a Bride Ruin Series Ruin Toxic Fearless Shame The Consequence Series The Consequence of Loving Colton The Consequence of Revenge The Consequence of Seduction The Dark Ones Series The Dark Ones Untouchable Darkness Wingmen Inc. The Matchmaker’s Playbook The Matchmaker’s Replacement Other Titles The Parting Gift Compromising Kessen Savage Winter Divine Uprising Every Girl Does It RIP



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