“Andrew is crazy about you, you know,” Trent says, light laughter coming out as he looks down at his feet before raising an eyebrow at me. “You in this as much as he is?”

I hold his stare, then nod yes. He begins to nod with me.

“Good,” he says, looking back down. “That’s good.”

I move to the stool by their counter in the kitchen, sliding it out enough to sit on top and rest my head on my hands. As safe as I feel here, I’m still not okay—I’m miles from okay. When Andrew’s gone, all I see are Graham’s lips curl into an evil grin, smoke trailing around his whiskers. I feel my skin burn from everywhere he touched, and I try to replace it with the feel of Andrew.

What holds me hostage, though, is the knowledge that it isn’t over—that Graham isn’t over. Andrew is going to face him, and I want to be there to keep him safe. But I can’t—my body and heart literally wouldn’t survive being in Graham’s presence. I’m afraid one more look at him and my nightmare would never leave.

“Did he tell you about his fight?” I ask, unable to fully look at him. I feel like I’m sharing secrets behind Andrew’s back.

“He did,” Trent says, and I glance up to see his mouth paused open, like he wants to protest the fight too. But he doesn’t, instead biting at his bottom lip and shaking his head.

“Don’t let him,” I beg, my voice breaking when I ask, and my eyes burning from tears. The emotion hits me fast; I pull my sleeves up over my wrists and push them into my eyes, squeezing them shut tightly until I can speak again with composure, without my voice feeling weak and frantic. I clear my throat and look down. “He’ll listen to you, Trent. Please,” I whisper.

It’s quiet between us for several seconds, and I work to regain control of my emotions, knowing Andrew will return home any minute. I focus on every breath, thinking of Andrew’s smile, and forcing out the thoughts of Graham and his devil eyes.

“He doesn’t listen to me, Emma. Andrew Harper listens to Andrew Harper,” Trent says through a faint laugh. “But he’s been a lot more reasonable since you showed up, so maybe…just maybe…he’ll come around before he does something really stupid. I know that’s what I’m hoping for…”

The sound of the key in the door has Trent on his feet, and his face is a full smile as Andrew walks inside—no sign of the worry I saw seconds before.

Andrew slides two six-packs of beer into the fridge, pulling out a bottle for him and me before peeling away the caps and placing a cold one in my hand. Trent finishes his first, then reaches into the fridge to grab a fresh one to catch up to us, tapping Andrew on the shoulder as he moves to stand next to him, holding the top of his beer out to tap into one another.

“To friendship, and finally getting what you deserve,” Trent says, his eyes flitting to me. I smile, knowing that he’s trying to give a subtle hint to Andrew that he has so much going for him right now. Unfortunately, I fear those words ring about revenge in Andrew’s mind.

“To getting what you deserve,” he says, an ominous smirk on his lips. “Soon enough.”

I can feel his body growing hostile at the thought of Graham, and I can tell how much he wants to make him pay. Panicked, I push my beer bottle into his next, just before he can pull it away to take a sip. I’m not satisfied with this toast, and I want to throw out a Hail Mary.

“And to remembering what you have…what’s here to come home to,” I say, causing him to turn to me, his head falling to the side and his eyes meeting mine instantly.

“To you,” he says. “The reason I do anything,” he adds with a whisper. I close my eyes, holding my breath as he pulls my head into him and kisses the top, cradling me in his arm.

“I’m drinking to this, but just so we’re clear here, Em, that last part of the deal is just you two,” Trent says, motioning his beer between Andrew and me. I laugh, but it’s a façade. Andrew’s is genuine, and as he tilts his beer to drink, Trent and I exchange one last glance—and I can tell he’s just as worried as I am.

Chapter 21

Andrew

Saturday was a blur. We won our hockey game, and Emma came with me again. This time, we joined the team at Majerle’s. Emma and I only stayed for an hour, anxious to race home to be alone. The newness of it all is part of it, along with the longing we’ve both endured—at least I know I’ve endured. But it’s more than that, too. This all feels fleeting, like there are hurdles yet to clear. I know that’s partly my fault.