“No, no, no,” he said again, hastily. “This is all coming out the wrong way. I recognized your name on the list, and Professor Gayle asked me to double-check, because she recognized your name, too. She’s a friend of your dad’s, and she remembered hearing that you were in a nursing program already. I double-checked your transcripts and called your last professor.”

My chest grew tighter as he spoke.

He called my last professor…

He knew…

He had to know…

I licked my lips. They were chapped. When did that happen? A slight buzzing sound started in my ears, and I shook my head, trying to clear it. When I spoke, my voice was hoarse. “I took an incomplete with that class, the one like this one.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “The professor explained where you went when—”

I tensed, waiting for the blow. He was going to say it.

“—you had to take your incomplete. He told me it was late in the semester, and you had a ninety-eight percent in the class overall. He would’ve passed you, but you didn’t take the final you assured him you’d be back to finish.”

This was like a nightmare.

My hands sank into my bag, holding on to it tight. “I left school altogether.”

He paused, his mouth open, then his eyes darted to my face. “Uh, yeah. He told me that, too. I explained that you were a student here now, and he said he’d waive your last agreement. You got an eighty-three percent in the course. That’s what I meant when I said you don’t have to be here.”

“I don’t?”

“I don’t even have you on the list. I already put you in the next class up. Now…” He cleared his throat, sliding his glasses to the top of his nose. “This means you’ll be in class with actual nursing students. They took this course and got into the program, so in essence, you did, too, but not officially. Does that make sense?”

No.

He knew. He must’ve known.

He paused again, frowning at me. “Taylor?”

I nodded. He was saying something. I’d remember it later and figure it out. Class. The next one. Not this one. I nodded again, which was enough for him. He launched into the next part of his statement.

I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t.

“…tomorrow then?” He sounded so bright and cheery.

I forced a smile, and a weak “Okay.”

“Great. Good. All right then,” he said. “I have another class in here. What do you have next?”

I closed myself off, and my autopilot turned on. I was fine. I was great. I was so thankful to him for doing that.

And I almost convinced myself that was true as he followed me to the hallway and clapped me on the shoulder before turning toward the bathroom. He had to go before his next class, which he didn’t teach, he explained. He was a normal student like me in that one. I nodded as he disappeared.

And my next class? I checked my schedule. I had enough time to grab a coffee. I was heading back with it when I realized that my next class was in the same building. My last class had been in Room 311...and the new one was 309. People were already going in, and I picked a seat in the back.

A bag dropped onto the desk next to me, and I looked up into the narrowed eyes of Logan Kade.

“You.”

I straightened in my seat. “You.”

“I recognize you from last night.”

My chin went up, all my slight-panic fled, and it was on. I heard the challenge in his voice. “I recognize you from last night, too,” I said. Challenge accepted. My body went from being numb to burning up. All the panic, pain, haunting memories—everything that Jeremy Fuller just brought up in me was wiped out by the mere presence of this guy. I should’ve been grateful, but I wasn’t. I was hot. I was angry. And I knew it had nothing to do with Logan Kade, but like last night, I didn’t care.

“You’re friends with Jason Delray. I remember him now.”

“You’re friends—” I started, then caught myself. “Yes…he is my friend.”

His top lip twitched into a smile. The rest of his gorgeous face was stoic. His eyes were alert, focused on me, but it was his mouth I couldn’t pull my gaze away from. Some of my anger was melting into something else, something I didn’t want to think about. For some reason Logan Kade had already wormed his way under my skin.

He stared back at me for a moment, a mask over his face, before he started laughing. “You are feisty.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Do you not know me? Feisty women are my specialty.”

“You’re arrogant.”

He was full-on laughing now. “Have you not met me? Nah.” He waved that off as his smirk grew. He knew full well the effect he had on everyone. “I’m Logan Motherfucking Kade. I have my own hashtags, but,” his eyes warmed, and he leaned closer, “I want to know more about you. I know your friend, but I don’t know you. What’s your name?”

I held my tongue. He’d find out my name during roll call. I wasn’t concerned about that. No, I was holding my tongue because I was having a reaction to this guy that I’d never had before. Eric was a jackass. He proved that the day my mom died, but he’d been my constant before. He was sweet, popular, and always there. I had feelings for him, that was obvious, but nothing like this. I didn’t quite know how to react to someone like Logan Kade.

The second he sat down next to me, others started glancing back at us, but now that he was laughing, more and more they were openly staring. A few girls down the row were almost glaring. Kade saw them too and raised a hand. “Hey.”