As Brand swings into the truck, I turn to him.

“It’s not my fault that I’m still at Saffron,” I snap defensively. “I tried to get a normal waitressing job. But I can’t make enough money to pay my bills doing that while I’m in school. Working at Saffron is no different than working at Hooters or someplace. All I have to do is flirt and serve champagne to rich people at private parties.”

“You mean, rich men at private parties.” Brand scowls as he jams his keys into the ignition. “You’re only one step above a stripper, Jacey, and you know it.”

“I’ve only got one class left,” I tell him quietly. “And I’m taking it online. I’ll have my business degree in just a few weeks. I’m working on it, Brand. I’m working on everything. I’m doing the best I can.” As I turn to face Brand even more squarely, the smell of his aftershave floods over me. That familiar scent, symbolizing something warm and safe, someone warm and safe, makes me realize that I’m okay. I’m no longer in a Chicago jail.

I’m safe.

I’m safe with Brand.

He’s rather die than let anything hurt me.

Then why can’t I stop the waterworks that suddenly overwhelm me?

There’s no reason to cry now, but no matter how much I try to stop the tears, I can’t. My sobs well up into a wail that erupts into a shoulder-shaking crying jag.

As I cry inconsolably, I know that with every sob and every quaking breath I take, I’m Brand’s worst nightmare.

Chapter Four

Jacey

Brand stares at me in horror.

“Jesus Christ, Jace. Calm down. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.” He tries to soothe me as he awkwardly pats my back, his large hands thumping too hard on my shoulders. “It’s okay. I know you’re trying. And you’ve been doing a good job. Everything’s fine.”

He keeps repeating himself, because he doesn’t know what to say. A woman crying is his kryptonite. He has no idea how to handle it.

I launch myself into his arms, burying my face into his shirt. I know I’m getting snot on him, but I don’t care. I’m just so happy to be here right now, in this truck with Brand. But more importantly, I’m so happy to be out of jail. I hadn’t realized until this very minute how scared I’d been.

“Thank you for bailing me out.” I sniff. “I didn’t really assault a police officer. It was a reflex… he went to grab me and I pushed his hand away. I didn’t mean to. And the drugs weren’t mine. They were in Dominic’s car.”

Brand looks at me with sympathy as he steers us through the parking lot and out onto the dark street.

“Tell me what happened,” he instructs. “Everything.”

So I do. I tell him all of it. How Kaylie almost got forced into a blow job, how Dominic Kinkaide, the fucking actor, had stopped it, but then he’d turned right around and gotten into a fight which ended in both of us being arrested.

“He fucking flipped out on this guy,” I tell Brand. “And the other guy clocked him hard in the temple, so I don’t know how he stayed standing up, but he still managed to kick the shit out of the dude. I jumped in to try and break it up and one of them accidentally smacked me.”

One of them. It was Dominic. But I don’t want to tell Brand that.

“And then the cops came and they found pot in his car. He said it wasn’t his and I know it wasn’t mine, so they decided to arrest us both. The other guy, Cris, told the cops that he didn’t want to press assault charges, so all Dominic had to do was admit the pot was his and they’d probably have let us go. But he was an asshole about it. God.”

My head drops into my hands and Brand glances at me. “How do you know for sure it was his? Just because it wasn’t yours doesn’t mean it was his, you know.”

I think about that for a second. I guess I hadn’t actually seen Dominic with drugs. The cops had just found it on his back floorboard. But still.

“It was his car,” I finally insist. “It had to be his. But whatever. All I know for sure is that it wasn’t mine.”

“Well, you’ll have a chance to speak up about that when you appear for court,” Brand tells me with a sigh. “You’ll need to find a lawyer.”

I nod and lean my head against the window.

We’re quiet for a while before Brand speaks again.

“So you were actually in Sin Kinkaide’s house?”

Even in the midst of all my drama, I can’t help but smile at the reverence in Brand’s voice. I happen to know that Devil’s Own is one of his favorite bands. He plays them all the time when he’s working out.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “And Sin Kinkaide is pretty fucking awesome. He was so nice in person… way nicer than you’d expect him to be.”

Brand raises an eyebrow. “Unlike Dominic?”

I shrug, picturing Dominic’s brooding stare and the way he flipped out on his old friend. “I don’t know. Celebrities aren’t the same as us… they play by different rules. But he did save Kaylie’s ass, so he can’t be all bad.”

Mentioning Kaylie reminds Brand of the matter at hand and he gets stern again.

“Neither of you should be working there. I don’t care if it’s good money. Maybe you could come work for Gabe and me as our assistant. We need another one since our last one quit. Working at Saffron puts you into bad situations. Look at you tonight! Jumping into a fight, Jacey? I can’t even kick the shit out of someone for hurting you… because you did this to yourself. You know better than to get in the middle of a fight.”

I stare at the floor, trying not to cry again. He’s probably right. I’m too gullible. I’ve fallen for the wrong guys a hundred times and I’m surprised by it every time. I’m a horrible judge of character. I get myself into the worst situations because of my bad judgment. But all of these things are issues that I’m working on. Because I think I’m already doing the best I can, I don’t even know what to say. Brand just doesn’t understand.

“Are you listening to me?” Brand demands grumpily.

I nod wearily. Being up all night, getting arrested, and listening to this endless lecture is taking its toll, and I can feel my shoulders droop more and more by the minute.

“I don’t want to work for you and Gabe,” I tell him limply. “I need to stand on my own. That’s part of what I learned in therapy. Thank you for the offer, but I’ve got to make my own way.”

I steel myself for another lecture, but thankfully, the end is in sight. Brand pulls up to the curb in front of my house and sits there for a second, staring first at his big hands, then at me.

“It scared the fuck out of me, Jacey,” he admits quietly. “When you called and said you needed help, I mean. A hundred things went through my mind before you were able to tell me what was going on. Don’t do that shit. When Gabe moved to Hartford, I promised him I would watch out for you, but you’re making it difficult.”

He sighs and I swallow hard, hating that I caused him worry. He levels another gaze at me, his blond eyebrows knitted together in consternation.

“I don’t know what to say,” he continues. “I know you’re trying, but try harder. You’ve got to make smarter decisions. Please. Your brother, me, Madison… we’ve all had enough drama to last us for a couple of lifetimes, okay?”

The look on his face, serious and tired, makes my throat close up.

He has had enough drama to last for two lifetimes. He and Gabe both, back when they were still in the Rangers. They’re fucking heroes and they don’t deserve to worry even a minute about me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I scoot over and kiss him on the cheek. “I’m sorry for not being good enough. I don’t know why I can’t seem to pull things together. Thank you for coming to get me, Brand. And thank you for always being someone I can count on.”

I get choked up now, because honestly, there are very few people I can actually count on. My dad’s worthless, and my mom’s a flake. Brand is a pillar of strength and he always has been.

I slip from the seat before I cry on his broad shoulder again as I remember how he’s always been there for me. When I turn to close the door, Brand is looking at me, his blue eyes soft.

There’s something there, something gentle, something different from the way he usually looks at me. It suddenly seems not-so-brotherly, and my stomach wavers. But then he covers it up.

“Jacey, you are good enough. That wasn’t what I meant. All I meant was that you’ve got to try harder to make better decisions. And you can always count on me. You know that. Call me when you get your court date. I’ll go with you.”

I nod and slam the door closed, watching his taillights until they disappear.

The look I’d just seen in Brand’s eyes bothers me. A lot. It’s the same look I see in the eyes of every other man on the planet, but it’s something I’ve never seen in his before. Until now.

My heart sinks a little. I can’t have Brand thinking about me in any other way other than sisterly.

I need him.

I need him to be the person that he is to me, the person he’s always been, a brotherly figure. Someone I can count on. Because so few people in life have ever been that to me. And if anything changes with Brand and me, everything will change, and I can’t deal with that on top of the rest of this mess.

With a sigh, I head up to my little bungalow, kicking off my shoes along the way.

I unlock the door to my tiny one-bedroom place and jump into the shower to wash away the feeling of the jail. I can’t help but feel gross, like the feeling of the jail cell has burned into my skin and there’s only one way to get it off. To scrub until my skin is bright pink and almost raw.

When I finally feel clean enough to towel off, I pull some underwear and a T-shirt on and collapse into bed to get a few hours of sleep.

The problem is, sleep doesn’t come.

I was arrested tonight, for god’s sake. Not only that, but I was arrested with one of the most famous actors on the planet. Dominic’s smoldering green eyes refuse to stay out of my head, his expression taunting me.

It’s like he saw me. He saw that someone died because of me. He saw that there’s something so fundamentally wrong with me that my own parents don’t want anything to do with me. That I’m flawed.

He saw all of that. He looked into my eyes and saw it. And then he turned away and left me to rot in the jail cell alone.

He’s a fucking asshole.

I might be a horrible judge of character, but even I can see that.

I toss and turn in my Egyptian cotton sheets. I’m horrible with money, and I always seem to spend it on things I shouldn’t. One of my splurges is always good sheets. But even they don’t help me sleep tonight. Or this morning, I mean. I glance at the clock. Five thirty A.M.

I know Gabe’s up. He usually gets up and goes for a run at five. Because he’s just that into self-torture. I sigh and grab my phone, punching in his number. I might as well tell him and get it over with. It’ll be better if he hears it from me instead of Brand.