“What the hell?”
The picture was of a note, with the words:
I have pictures too.
“Pictures of what?” I whispered, then looked into the envelope again . . . but it was empty.
I thought back to the pictures of Maxon and me that ended up online a couple days ago and wondered what else someone could’ve captured. Maxon and I had rarely been out in public together except for the two times that had already been sold to the celebrity news sites.
And who the hell in Wake Forest would do this?
I wanted to stare at the picture a little longer, try to decipher something from nothing. But I knew I couldn’t have much time before someone came in here to see what was really wrong.
I shoved the Polaroid in the envelope and put it in one of my drawers under some clothes, then hurried to strip out of my work clothes.
My earlier shame didn’t compare to now. I’d let some jealous punk scare me.
Me.
“Jesus, Libby.”
I was shrugging into a large, comfortable shirt when Maxon stepped into the room with a knock on the door.
His face was impassive as he shut the door behind him and leaned against it. One of his eyebrows ticked up in bemused frustration when he slid his hands into his jeans pockets.
“So . . .”
I let a coy smile play on my lips and slanted my head. “So.”
“Are you gonna tell me what’s happening?”
I opened my mouth and suddenly found it impossible to speak. My stomach felt heavy as it churned with acid.
I cleared my throat and asked, “What do you mean?” I knew the feigned innocence in my question didn’t fool him. It couldn’t. He knew me too well.
An edgy laugh punched from his chest. “Let’s start with you rushing into the apartment like you were being chased. Or the look on your face like you’d just seen a ghost. Or the way you wouldn’t come near me, when the last two days, I don’t think more than a few minutes passed before we started tearing at each other’s clothes again and fucking on the closest surface.”
I shrugged. “I missed you when you were gone.”
“And now you’re done missing me?” he asked wryly.
“I was trying to be respectful of your friends and Einstein.”
Maxon looked like he didn’t know if he should laugh or check to see if I was actually Libby. “You mean the friends you yelled at and wouldn’t let in here. Today. Right after they got back to town.”
“To be fair, they tried to break down my door at the worst time. It totally killed the mood.”
Until Maxon joined me in the shower . . .
“And don’t you guys sleep?” I asked, exasperated. “I mean, why were you even still up?”
“Wait—what? We’re always awake when you get back. We were messing around with some new songs up until a few minutes ago.” He ran his hands over his face and let out a soft groan. When he was looking at me again, he plead, “Libby, tell me what I’m missing.”
I wanted to.
It would be so easy to.
This was Maxon. My safe place, my best friend, my everything.
It was just a picture from some asshole, letting me know that Einstein would probably have more work to do.
But something about my name printed on the envelope didn’t sit right with me. It made me nauseous and left a knot in my throat whenever I even considered telling him the truth.
Because Elizabeth Borello was a dangerous name.
It was a name associated with blood and enemies.
I wanted nothing to do with it.
Anyone who grew up here—which was pretty much everyone—knew my full name. But to the town, I was just Libby.
And yet, Elizabeth was on that envelope.
Still, it could’ve been left by anyone.
Literally anyone.
I loosed a sigh and let my shoulders sag as I walked to where Maxon leaned against my door.
I pressed close and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Something scared me when I was walking to the door.”
Maxon’s brow furrowed and body went tight beneath me. “What?”
Instantly worried for me. Instantly transformed into my protector when I didn’t need one.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
Because I didn’t.
I didn’t understand the meaning of the picture or who it was from.
“But that’s why I was trying to get in here so fast. And I don’t get scared.”
“Libby, it’s almost three in the morning. Anyone would be scared walking into the apartment alone. You could’ve called me and I would’ve met you outside. You should’ve.”
“No, you don’t understand. I don’t get scared. It pissed me off that I let myself think someone was there. That I let anything scare me at all. And I just needed a second to cool down from that.”
He watched me for a few seconds, then asked carefully, “Is this a mob thing?”
I gave him a deadpan look. “You should’ve seen how shocked Einstein was when I came in. I don’t think she expected to see me like that as long as she lived.”
He shifted me in his arms, pulling me deeper into his embrace. “You’ve never been scared . . . about anything? Thought you said that assassin guy scared you.”
“He’s terrifying to be near, but I’ll still stand next to him without batting an eye. It’s hard to explain unless you’ve seen him. He constantly has this look like he’s thinking of all the ways he wants to kill you—and you know he could do it before you could take your next breath.” I bit back a laugh when Maxon’s eyes widened. “And he’s the good guy.”
“I’m confident enough in myself to say that I don’t ever want to meet him. He would be the person I ran screaming from.”
My next laugh was louder, richer—but ended abruptly.
The panic that had seized my heart from what seemed so long ago consumed me again. That grief swirled in my chest as if I was experiencing it for the first time.
I wondered if I would ever forget it . . . that pain from thinking I’d lost him forever.
Then thinking he’d left again.
I wondered if my heart would ever fully heal.
“I lied.” I met Maxon’s eyes before letting my stare fall to his chest. “I was scared the day you went to talk to Dare. You weren’t there when I woke, and I thought you left . . . for California.”
“Rebel . . .”
“Guess that’s a different kind of fear,” I whispered hesitantly.
He caught my chin between his fingers and forced me to look at him. “It’s gonna be you and me forever. I’m not going anywhere.”
Libby
“GABE,” I CALLED OUT, MY mouth stretching into a wide smile when I saw one of my regulars sliding onto a stool at The Jack. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”
His signature crooked smirk turned amused, his head listing to complete the look. “Been a week, as always.”
I faltered for a second, my smile freezing in place.
The online pictures and the Polaroid . . . all that had happened within a week?
I forced a laugh. “Longest week of my life.” Drumming my hands on the bar, I asked, “What will it be tonight?”
“Haven’t changed on you yet. Not starting now.”
“You keep giving me free rein on drink choices, and one of these times I might just make you a girly cocktail with fruit and an umbrella.”
“Whatever you’re in the mood for, I want.” His dark eyes burned as they searched my face, but just before I could look away from the piercing stare, he turned and glanced around the bar with a look of indifference.
I grabbed for the whiskey, since Maxon’s return had the liquor on my mind constantly, and asked, “How many tonight?”
“Four of us.” That stare returned to me. “How’ve you been?”
I shrugged, talking about work and not much else as I poured whiskey in four glasses. When I echoed his quest
ion, he kept his answer short, vague, and about work.
As always.
Gabe had been coming to The Jack every Friday night for about seven years now. From day one, he’d allowed me to make him whatever sounded good, never once asking for anything specific.
He was tall and built like a brickhouse. His face was permanently etched in a scowl, and I’d made it my mission for years to see that crooked smile cross his face—if even for a second.
Now he gave them to me freely.
But the man was something to look at, with or without the smile.
Dark, messy hair and penetrating stare. Full lips and a tall, hard body cloaked in his ever-present slacks, loosened tie, and button-down . . . forearms peeking out below his rolled-up sleeves.
I’d passed Maxon’s absences with him a few times . . . a year.
But Gabe was just . . . Gabe.
He was attractive, and I could appreciate that, sure. But he had been nothing more than someone to pass a night with whenever I’d tried to pretend I was fine.
Fine that once again, Maxon had left me.
Fine that once again, I had been easy to leave.
We never got too personal with the details of our lives when we spoke. There was no emotional connection so our interactions didn’t change after sleeping with each other.
I chose his drinks, and he alternated between staring at me like he wanted to devour me and looking around like he was both content and frustrated with the world. Business as usual.
But he always left a very generous tip, and underneath, a piece of paper with one, simple word on it.
Hi.
Sometimes it was on bar napkins or receipts . . . others it was on his business card or ripped pieces of paper. But it was underneath the tip every time.
Something about it made the solemn man with the presence of a warrior a little less threatening. A little more endearing. A little more human.
But now as I slid the tumblers toward him, I wondered about that note.
They had always seemed innocent—and were the motivation behind wanting to make him smile—but now I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to accept them.
Hi had lost some of its innocence, because now . . . everything was different.
Maxon was back.
He was mine and I was his.
Most importantly, the deal between us had been destroyed. My deal, as Maxon reminded me over the years.
But I was the one who’d been left.
I was the one who had to choke down the knowledge that he was a famous rock star living across the country.
To expect or ask him to stay true to me for all those years when I couldn’t give him what he wanted—a relationship. A life. A future—it would’ve been foolish. Naïve.
So, yeah, it was my deal. One that allowed needs to be taken care of. But it was the only way I knew how to protect my heart.
And we pretended it didn’t wreck us to think of what the other might be doing.
Because Maxon wasn’t just someone to satisfy physical needs when he was in town.
He was the other half of my soul. My heart.
Just as I was his.
“You okay?”
I blinked quickly and focused on Gabe for a second before realizing I’d stopped pushing the glasses toward him.
“Yeah,” I said hesitantly. “Yeah, sorry.”
Except I wasn’t.
For the first time in years, I was acutely aware that one of my favorite regulars knew what I looked like naked.
The men I slept with were only in town for a night or two—usually coming in to The Jack for a show—because I knew I would likely never see them again. Gabe was the only exception. I’d justified it because he lived in the city.
I was now remembering why Raleigh men were too close for comfort. Why I’d had that rule.
It was also supposed to prevent the scene that was playing out in front of me . . .
Maxon walking toward me. Gabe staring at me like he wanted to devour me again.
Son of a bitch.
I should’ve known it would happen sooner or later. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened before.
The few times Henley had played at the bar since Gabe started showing up, Gabe was always gone by the time the set finished.
Whenever Maxon came to town on his own, I spent those days holed up with him, away from the world.
Now they were side by side.
Maxon popped up on the bar, the muscles in his tattooed arms flexing as he leaned over to kiss me long and slow.
My unease at Maxon being near a man I’d slept with fled the moment his lips met mine, and I was smiling by the time he pulled away.
“Missed you.”
“Always.” He placed another quick kiss to my lips, then lowered himself to the floor. “We’re headed to Raleigh to have dinner with Nate and some people he knows. Wanted you to know in case you beat me back to the apartment.”
“And you had to come in here to tell me?” The tease in my tone offset the roll of my eyes.
“We had to pass by here on our way out and I wanted to taste you.”
“Maxon,” I hissed and grabbed a lemon wedge to throw at him.
“If you’d rather I didn’t . . .” He shrugged slowly, his mouth twitching into a smirk. “I’ll remember that when you get home.”
My stomach turned into a flurry of butterfly wings the instant those last words slipped from his tongue.
Home. With Maxon.
Nothing had ever sounded so perfect.
“I’ll change your mind when I do,” I promised, my blood heating when he winked before turning away.
In a daze, I watched Maxon leave. My eyes slowly shifted to the side and my body jolted when I found Gabe’s penetrating stare on me.
“Hi,” I said awkwardly.
A ghost of a smirk flashed across his face. “Boyfriend?”
“That’s my—he’s . . .”
I’m going to marry him, but we’re not engaged. “Boyfriend” doesn’t begin to encompass what we are—what we’ve been through to make it to this point.
“He’s my Maxon,” I finally answered.
“He was here a couple weeks ago. He played,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “And I think I’ve seen them play here a couple times before.”
“Right. He’s from here. Actually. They all are. Henley. They grew up . . . yeah. But he’s back. Now. For good.”
Awkward . . . it was all so awkward and I couldn’t figure out how to form full sentences, because Gabe was still staring at me in that way he did, and we’d just talked about something other than work.
We’d gone into personal territory for the first time ever.
He nodded, just a slight dip of his head. “Understood.” A breath of a laugh left him as he stood and reached into his pocket. “So I shouldn’t give you these anymore?”
Relief pounded through my veins when he folded up a little scrap of paper, and I offered him a grateful smile.
“I’ve been with him my entire life,” I explained when he placed the ball of paper on the bar.
Gabe’s eyes flashed up to meet mine.
“When the band left for LA, Maxon and I were only on when he was home. It was . . . well, it’s confusing and it’s weird. It’s just how we got through the time. We had a deal.”
“Did you?” he asked, something like a challenge filling his tone.
“I’m sorry, this is weird. I’m shutting up.” I waved off the awkward tension slowly creeping between us again. “We don’t talk about our personal lives. I hope you and the guys enjoy your night. I’ll see you later if you want another round—or next week.”
Another dip of his head.
Another ghost of a smirk.
He placed a too-large tip on the bar top and palmed the four glasses in his large hands, his eyes locked on mine as he backed away. “See you around, Libby.”
My breath caught, and I stood there watching him go, unable to move.
It
was his voice—the deep tenor of his parting words.
They were the same words he said every time he turned away from the bar . . . but this time had been different.
They were no longer cloaked in seduction and mystery and intrigue.
This time those simple, innocent words had frozen fingers gripping my spine, and left me cold the rest of the night.
Because they sounded like a dark promise.
Maxon
JARED ROLLED HIS EYES AND tossed his pic down when Libby walked in from work that night. “Jesus, she’s already back.”
The hell?
Before I could say anything, Libby walked past the living room where we were all lounging, a forced smile on her face. “Looks like practice is going well.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I kicked him when I stood and turned for the hall. Looking back over my shoulder, I called out, “You’re welcome to find somewhere else to sleep in your favorite town.”
When I reached Libby’s room, I shut the door behind me and took my time drinking her in. “God, Rebel, look at you.”
Short black shorts and a black lace, see-through top.
And I was frustratingly aware she went to work dressed like that.
“So, I guess Jared still blames me for moving here,” she said offhandedly as she started pulling at her shorts.
“He’ll get over it. He doesn’t have a legitimate reason for blaming you.” I walked closer when I realized how still she’d gotten.
“I know he doesn’t. Doesn’t make it any easier when he’s been staying here—in my apartment—and his anger toward me is so thick and obvious I practically choke on it,” she murmured.
“Again, not a legitimate reason for being mad. But I’ll talk to him.” I grabbed her arm and turned her to face me, my eyes raking over her. “Are you trying to drive me insane? Or just the guys that come into the bar?”
Her lips twisted mischievously. “What do you think?” She turned for her dresser and asked over her shoulder, “How was the meeting with Nate?”
Libby was standing in front of me in next to nothing . . . and she wanted to talk about the guys.
Right. Sure.
I roughed a hand through my hair and fought to gather my thoughts. “Good, I guess. Same as always. He wants to make sure you’re not becoming too much of a distraction for me and that I’ll keep doing what I’m supposed to.”
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