—

I’d planned to stay up, working with Gabriel, until Ricky returned. But while it was barely past ten, I was exhausted, and I think “someone” texted to tell Ricky I was falling asleep on my laptop, because at 10:15 I got a message from Ricky telling me he’d be another hour at least, and I should go to sleep. Rose was leaving the front door unlocked so he could take the sofa without disturbing anyone.

I texted back to say I wanted him to wake me when he got there. His response wasn’t exactly a refusal, but when I woke after midnight, I was alone in Rose’s guest room.

I found Ricky in the parlor, sitting on the sofa, lost in thought. Troubled thoughts, his face pensive and half shadowed. The breeze from the open front window ruffled his hair, a tendril tickling his cheek. Normally he’d brush it back, but he just sat there, his gaze fixed on the window, a haunted look in his eyes.

Gabriel and I weren’t the only ones stuck on this roller coaster. Ricky was just better at hiding it and more comfortable being the guy in charge of cheering everyone else up. As I stepped into the room, the floor creaked, and he was on his feet, ready for trouble. Then he saw me.

“Tonight didn’t go so well?”

He frowned, as if not sure what I meant. Then he shook his head. “Nah, it was fine. Routine shit. How are you holding up?”

“Managing. I’m more worried about you right now. You were a long way away when I came down, and it looked like you’d settled in for a night of that.”

He made a face. “Just thinking about some stuff.”

He came to me and one hand went around my waist, the other to the back of my neck. He pulled me in for a sweet and gentle kiss. When it broke, he stayed there, his hand against the back of my neck, his face an inch from mine. His eyes closed and he gave a shuddering sigh. Then he kissed me again, something else there this time, a caution that spoke as much of uncertainty as tenderness.

“What’s wrong?” I said when the kiss ended.

He hesitated, then took my hand and tugged me over to the sofa. We settled in together, me on his lap, turned to face him.

He cupped my chin, pulling me in for another slow kiss. Then he held me there, so close I could see nothing except his eyes.

“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you,” he said. “Never.”

“Okay . . .”

“I’ve made a mistake, Liv. A huge one. At the time . . . At the time, it seemed like exactly the right thing to do. The only thing to do. I was so worried about you, and all I wanted was for you to be safe.”

“What happened?”

“I was . . .” He inhaled. “It was after—”

A throat clearing cut him short. Gabriel stood in the doorway, still in his dress shirt, tie off, pen in hand.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he said. “I was working in the kitchen hoping to speak to you.”

“We’re going back to my place,” I said. “You two can talk in the morning.”

“It can’t wait,” Gabriel said. “Ricky?”

I started to protest, but Ricky cut me short with a squeeze of my hand.

“He’s right,” he said. “Go on back to bed.”

“But—”

“You’re tired. I’m out of sorts and keeping you up. We’ll talk later.”

“You’ll come get me?”

“I will.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

About twenty minutes later, Ricky slipped into the bedroom. I started to rise. He held out a hand to stop me.

“Gabriel wants us to stay here,” he whispered. “Something about an encounter you had earlier? Is there a problem?”

“No, he’s just being cautious. I’d prefer to go to my place.”

“So would I.” He rolled his eyes toward the door. “But I’d rather not piss him off when he’s sticking close to help.”

Ricky peeled off his shirt. I tried not to watch—I hate window-shopping, and there was no chance of a purchase tonight. When he got to the jean-shucking, though, my resolve buckled.

“Keep looking at me like that . . .” he murmured as he folded his clothing onto a chair.

“I know.” I sighed. “Just too damned tempting.”

He chuckled as he climbed into bed. “While I’m perfectly willing to satisfy that temptation . . .”

“It’s not the time or the place,” I said. “I know.”

He pulled me against him. “About earlier. What I was trying to say is that I feel like shit about . . . well, about . . .”

“James?”

He exhaled, air hissing through his teeth. “Yeah. Definitely not what you want to talk about.”

“I’d rather talk about it than lie awake worrying about what’s bothering you.”

He nodded. “It’s just that I feel bad. I was so pissed off at him. For good reason, considering how he was treating you. But whatever James did, it was hard for you hearing me talk about your ex like he was some dirtbag psycho. That obviously wasn’t the guy you got engaged to. I mishandled the situation, and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t hurt me or mishandle it. Yes, it was tough. I felt like it reflected badly on me, plus it might scare you off. I’m just sorry that it happened. That all of it happened.”

I was about to pull back, a fresh wave of grief rising, but he took my face in his hands and pulled me down into a kiss. When it broke, he held me there.