He stops in front of me and my feet scuff against the grass as I wait for him to answer. "You're a runner, Rook. You've learned that if you've got problems you can make them go away by walking out. Or getting on a bus and just disappearing. So you walking out of our conversation was the perfect example of you being set off."

I laugh. "Sorry, my mistake. I didn't realize marketing degrees required psychology classes as well."

He walks over to me and takes my hand. "OK, just answer me one question then. What part of me asking you to stay away from Ford bothers you? Why do you care?"

"You didn't give me a good reason. If you want me to ignore him then tell me why."

"I—" His phone buzzes and he reaches into his pocket to check the text, saying nothing for several seconds. Then he texts back and turns to me. "Fuck. I have to go back up to Steamboat."

"What? Why?"

"Clare escaped."

Fucking Clare. It's like she's doing this shit on purpose.

"They found her in the nearby woods, so she's OK. But Elise says she's asking for me and the doctors are so pissed off right now, they might kick her out. I'll just stay one night, I'll be back tomorrow, OK?"

"Just like that? Clare's in trouble so you drop everything, drop me, to go save her?"

He steps forward, takes my hand, and pulls me up off the swing. "Rook, if you were the one who needed help I'd drop everything for you, too."

"But I'm good now, right? I don't need help. Now Clare needs you."

He shrugs. "That sounds like a loaded question, but I'm not sure what you're getting at, so yeah. That's about it. You know where the keys are, Gidge. Help yourself to the cars, or whatever else you need, OK?" He drops my hand and turns to leave.

"Wait! Why can't I come with you?"

He turns and gives me a weird look. "It's not a vacation. She's addicted to heroin. She doesn't even know you. She's sick and she doesn't want to see anyone but us. "

"You, you mean, right? Because Antoine and Elise are already there. So she just wants to see you."

He leans down and kisses me on the cheek. The f**king cheek. "I'll be back tomorrow morning and we'll drive up to Fort Collins together, OK?"

And he turns and walks away.

I swear, I'm so stunned I can't even move. I don't even know how long I sit there out on the swing before I go lie down under the tree. And after that, I have no idea how long I lie there alone, staring up into the canopy of leaves and branches, before Ford is suddenly standing next to me.

"What?" I ask.

"There's a camera in the trees."

"So you heard all that."

"Just agree with him, Rook. I don't care if you ignore me. Don't fight over something so stupid."

I sit up and shield my eyes from the sun so I can see his face. "He thinks you're some creeper, Ford. And you're OK with that assumption?"

He shrugs. "Yes."

And then he turns and walks off. His steps even and emotionless as he crosses the terrace and makes his way inside.

I laugh a little under my breath. This contract was a mistake, but f**k it. I'm making bank right now. When this is over I'll have enough to go to California if I want. Just move to LA and fight for my dream. Maybe I am a runner, but all I see are the flashing red lights and they scare me. Because in the last twenty-four hours I've thought about breaking up with Ronin twice and that's not a good sign as far as potential long-term relationships go.

Chapter Twenty-Three - ROOK

Ford is sitting outside promptly at five minutes to five the next morning.

For half a second I consider not going. But I'm already dressed in the stupid athletic shorts and tight-ass top. As soon as I go out he stands and walks to the studio door and holds it open for me. "You surprise me, Rook," he says matter-of-factly as I walk through, mumbling out a thank you.

"Why? Because I keep my promises?"

"No, because even though you're smart and capable of a whole lot more than posing naked and accepting your fate as Ronin's project, you choose this life and let people walk all over you."

I snort but I do not even dignify that with a response. Fuck him. He says nothing else the entire walk over and when we get inside he waits for me to choose top or bottom stairs.

I head through the door that leads to the bottom seats because I prefer to start at the top and go down. As soon as we get inside the stadium he takes off and leaves me there. I watch him as I shuffle down my section of stairs. He starts off at a faster pace than usual, like he's turning it up a notch. I shake myself out of this fog Ford has draped over me and concentrate on my own workout. It's not as difficult as it was the first day and when I get to the bottom and start to climb the next section I make a little bit of effort.

Just a little.

I decide to see how fast I can go and for how long, so I take off booking it up the stairs. At first it feels good to exert myself like this because I've been angry since yesterday morning and I need to burn it off. I run hard all the way up to the top, then dash down the aisle to the next set of stairs and go down as fast as I can and repeat the mad dash over to the next set. I climb again, fully exerting myself, but soon my thighs are burning and about three-quarters of the way up I have to slow down because they are on fire. I stop and look behind me and let off a little smile. Maybe I'm a total stadium-running loser compared to Ford, but this is a challenging exercise and I didn't do too bad.