Hade: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Hale Brothers)

Anastasija White

author's note

Dear readers,

Thank you so much for your desire to read HADE. It's the second book of my Hale Brothers series, and while it's very different from the first one, the core of the story is still the same—imperfect love story filled with deep emotions, longing and love, but it also carries some heavier topics.

This book was born from grief.

The initial spark came after watching A Mouthful of Air. The movie stayed with me long after I closed my laptop because of the quiet devastation it portrayed. It made me think about what happens after someone is gone. About the people who stay. About the silence, the questions, the guilt that doesn't settle into anything you can easily explain.

At its core, HADE explores the aftermath of suicide. The guilt. The unanswered questions. The relentless “what ifs.” The replaying of memories, searching for something you might have missed.

There is no judgment here. Just the acknowledgment that loss like this changes everyone it touches and that sometimes the pain someone carries is larger than what the people around them can see.

My own grief looked different, but it was grief all the same. I lost my granny. My favorite person in the whole world. She was elderly.

She was sick. I thought I was ready. I wasn't. You can know something is coming and still feel shattered when it arrives.

There are days I'm fine. And there are days when I cry because I want to call her and can't. What I discovered after a few months is that grief doesn't disappear just because it makes sense.

Writing this book became a way for me to sit with my loss instead of running from it. To explore how grief reshapes us. How it lingers.

This book contains death of a friend, discussions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, grief, depression, and emotionally intense situations. There are no graphic depictions of self-harm, but the emotional aftermath of suicide is central to the story. Please take care of yourself while reading.

For a full list, please visit: shor dot by U.R.L

If you are struggling, please remember you are not alone. Reaching out to someone you trust or to a professional resource in your area can make a difference.

Thank you for trusting me with this story.

I'm so grateful you're here.

With love,

Ana.

1

i was jealous

Hayden

Four years ago

Breathing heavily, I stand behind the curtains and peek out at the crowd. Hills Arena is one of the biggest venues in L.A, and it's packed. Tickets to this show, in our hometown, sold out in less than twenty-four hours.

Fuck, this is insane.

An electrifying energy courses through my veins. Cell phone lights flicker like a sea of stars as the audience continues to cheer. We've just played our last song of the night, yet our fans are still as loud as they were when we walked out. I still can't believe this is my life.

The band my closest friends and I started on a whim has somehow earned four Grammy nominations and two wins—Record of the Year this year and Best Group Performance the year prior. Our album Flawless debuted at number two on the Billboard 200, and we've sold eight million copies worldwide. Even in my wildest dreams, I never imagined I'd be where I am now.

“This crowd is something else,” Owen, our bass guitarist, says. He's one of my closest friends, the person I always listen to and never ever get bored with. His energy matches mine like no one else's. He was the last to join the band, just a few months ahead of our big break.

“It is.” I study the fans in the front row. Two songs ago, a blonde caught my attention, though I was so focused on getting the lyrics and notes just right, only the vaguest of details have stuck with me. All I remember is long, blonde hair, full lips, and big eyes.

Where is she?

“How about an encore?” Bo, our drummer, asks.

“Let's give them a few more minutes,” Jimmy—the electric guitarist—suggests.

With a chuckle, I lean forward and search for my mystery girl.

It only takes a minute to find the head of blonde hair flowing over her shoulders in loose waves. She's turned away from me. Head thrown back, she laughs at something a redhead says.

When she turns back to the stage, cold dread washes over me. I know this girl. I've known her for her whole life—how the hell didn't I recognize her?

Fuck, I almost asked my team to bring my best friend's little sister backstage so I could meet her.

Squinting, I study Riley closer. Bright makeup makes her big eyes pop; full, sensual red lips. Her light pink crop top hugs her chest like a second skin. It's been two years since I saw her last, back when she'd just been accepted into the New York School of Performing Arts, but I don't think her hair was this long. Back then, though, she always wore it up.

She's no longer the girl I remember. She's all grown up.

Are you for real? my inner voice all but screams at me. Stop fucking staring. She's Piper's sister.

I clear my throat and tear my attention away from Riley, cheeks burning like a teenager caught with his dad's collection of porno mags. “Ready?” I ask the guys.

As we rush back on stage, I do my best to clear Riley's image from my head.

“Uncle Hayden!” a familiar voice calls in the middle of the madness backstage.

I turn just in time to catch my niece in my arms. Story clings to me as I hug her tightly to my chest. I inhale deeply, smiling when her marshmallow scent hits me. I love this little girl to the moon and back.

“You were incredible!” she yells.

I laugh. “You think so?”

She nods, her dark green eyes sparkling, the same color as mine.

“I'll take your word for it.” I kiss her cheek.

My best friend Piper is here too, though half their family is missing. Her husband, my brother, is in Miami with his team, and Hudson, their one-year-old son, is with Piper's mom for the night.

“Hey, Hade.” Piper smiles as I haul her to me for a hug. Her blonde hair is in a high ponytail, her dark chocolate eyes warm. “Sabotage was phenomenal. I got chills during every song.”

“Especially 'Flawless', I bet,” Owen chimes in, pushing his curly chestnut hair out of his eyes.

“That's my song.” Piper winks at him then leans in to give him a quick hug. “You were all incredible. I don't think I've ever seen a more enthusiastic audience. They love you guys.”

“Of course they do,” calls a voice I haven't heard in years.

My body tenses. After noticing Riley in the crowd, I have no idea how to act.

She grins at me. “Some of these people have been following your career since the very beginning, from club performances to this sold-out arena show. I, for one, am so damn proud of you guys.”

Bo slips an arm around her shoulders. “She has a point.”

Riley pushes him away, scrunching her nose. “You stink.”

Bo bursts into laughter. “Thanks a lot. Didn't you know? This is called 'rock star aroma,' the natural scent that comes with performing for ninety minutes and then returning to the stage for a fifteen-minute encore.”

She nudges him with her shoulder. “Keep telling yourself that.”

We talk some more. Riley introduces the redhead I saw her with during the show: Anastasia, who greets us with a slight Russian accent, goes to school with Riley.

Glenn, our manager, wanders over. He's in his fifties, and though he looks cunning, he's a softie when it comes to those he cares about.

Some of our most loyal fans find their way backstage too, along with label representatives and a few of our regular groupies.

The mood is fun and light, prolonging the natural high I'm riding after the show.

After most shows, we end up partying, the atmosphere just pumping more energy through my veins. Tonight, Bo and Jimmy insist we go to the club, but I turn them down quickly. I have zero intention of abandoning Piper and Story for a drunken night out and a chance for a hook up. I can do that tomorrow—or any other day, to be honest.

“So we're going home tonight?” Owen asks as we head to the dressing room.

“I am,” I tell him. “But if you want to join the guys, you should.”

“Nah. Won't be the same without you.” He grins. “Besides, my parents are in town. It's been a while since I saw them, and I want to tell them about Ines.”

“Aw, preparing your folks for the day they'll meet your future wife?”

He blows out a breath, his cheeks puffing. “I haven't proposed⁠—”

“Yet.” I chuckle, though when I register his flushed face, I decide to take it easy on him. “Why didn't your parents join us backstage?”

“Mom said she didn't want to 'disturb the youth.'”

I bark out a laugh. “Your mom is awesome.”

He shakes his head, the corner of his lips tipping up.

As we pass a few guys who always hang around the band, one of them says, “Have you seen those legs? They'd look great over my shoulders.”

Frowning, I follow his gaze. When I spot who he's looking at, my blood boils. Piper sits on the couch with Story, talking and laughing. This fucker has the audacity to disrespect my best friend, my brother's wife.

Huffing, I stalk over to the group and grab the shit-talking one by his collar. “Mind repeating what you just said?”

His mouth falls open. “Hade, man, what are you talking about?”

Anger has me tightening my hold on his shirt. “You see that blonde on the couch? With the little girl?”

He nods frantically.

“That is my best friend. Not only that, but she's my brother's wife,” I grind out. “I heard what you said about her, and it's not fucking okay. Show some respect.” I drag him a foot or two and push him against the wall. The back of his head hits it with a thud.

“Sorry. I'm sorry,” he whines. “I wasn't talking about her.”

I frown, loosening my hold a little. “Who were you talking about then? Surely not my eleven-year-old niece?”

“No, no, no, man. The other blonde.”

Eyebrows pulled together, I glance over my shoulder. When I see her, everything in me stills. Riley. She and her friend stand near the couch, backs pressed to the wall, lost in conversation.

Fury floods my veins, and the beast in my chest comes to life. I'm so fucking out of my element after seeing her tonight, but one thing's for sure—he has no right to look at her.

“She's a stunner. I didn't mean any disrespect.”

Owen steps to my side and puts a hand on my shoulder. At the simple gesture, I let go of the jerk. Breath uneven, I try to collect my thoughts. My emotions are all over the place.

“You were disrespectful,” Owen tells him, keeping a calm tone. “Objectifying a girl is bad, no matter how you look at it. Making sexually suggestive comments is worse.”

A short laugh escapes his mouth. “It's just harmless talk.”

Without a second of hesitation, I draw my hand back and punch him in the face.

Blood gushes from his nose, and he slaps a hand over it, his eyes full of tears.

“She's my best friend's sister. I've known her for her whole life,” I hiss, twisting his collar tighter. “Think before you say something like that again. About anyone.”

With a sharp exhale, I turn on my heel and stride away. Just outside the dressing room, I stop by Reed's side.

“Hey, man,” I say. “See that dude over there?” I jab my thumb over my shoulder. “With red hair?”

Our head of security lifts his chin. “Is he causing trouble?”

“Yeah. I don't want to see him backstage again, at any show.”

“Consider it done.” With a simple nod, he strides toward the asshole.

Head lowered, I step into the dressing room. I drag myself across the space and plop onto the couch like a deflated balloon. Why do I feel so possessive of Riley suddenly? Not letting some dude disrespect her is one thing, but being jealous he noticed her is a line I shouldn't fucking cross.

And I was jealous.

“Hade?” Owen joins me, dropping his head back against the cushion.

“What?”

“I'm not trying to be rude or anything, because what that guy said wasn't okay.”

I glare at him. “Then what are you trying to do?”

“Riley is a beautiful girl. If she's going to be hanging out with us, that shit is bound to happen again. So you better make sure the guys know she's off-limits without beating them up.”

Have I been teleported into my personal hell tonight? How the fuck did I go from only ever seeing Riley as Piper's sister to being overcome with jealousy when another man notices her?

I clear my throat. “I didn't expect it. That's why I reacted like that.”

“Okay,” he says easily. “Should we go?”

Determined to move on from what happened, I stand and head for the closet. “Yeah, let's get the fuck out of here. I'm tired.”

“Whatever you want, man.”

The cool night air soothes me as I head toward the black Range Rover with tinted windows the label arranged for me. Piper is already in the back seat with Story. Riley, on the other hand, stands beside the vehicle with her friend.

Just for a moment, I allow myself to look at Riley again, really look at her.

Her body is lean and toned. That's no surprise after years of discipline and dancing. Her arms are slender and graceful, her legs toned and elegant, honed by ballet. Her posture is flawless, her spine perfectly straight.

She's petite but not fragile, feminine and soft. Just looking at her sends my heart racing so fast, I worry it'll beat right out of my chest.

As if she feels my gaze, she diverts her attention to me. Her blue eyes remind me of the field of forget-me-nots I once marveled over while we were on tour in Europe, enchanting and inviting.

Warmth spreads through me as she takes me in. Something is happening, and I don't understand what.

It's just Riley, I tell myself.

But it's not just Riley, my inner voice argues.

Her full lips part, and her eyebrows pinch together. She's probably confused by my scrutiny, and I don't blame her. What I'm doing right now will send me to hell, no doubt about it.

Riley is not simply beautiful. She's absolutely divine.

I shake my head, trying to wake up from the trance her beauty has put me in. Fuck. I can't allow this state to linger. The image of her needs to be fucking bleached from my mind.

I blink, willing all the thoughts I've had of her tonight to flee. Then, I mentally put up a wall between us. It's a line I'll never cross in real life, which means I can't let it happen in my thoughts either.

I can't betray Piper's trust. Not again.

2

i am cursed

Riley

Now

Leaning against the wall, I whisper, “One, two, three. One, two, three.”

Some of my five-year-old students are putting their all into following the counts to “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” from The Nutcracker. Others are fully immersed in their own world. As they chassé across the floor in pairs, tiny arms flailing, heads held high, I swear, they think they're dancing at the Lincoln Center.

When Amari tries a piqué turn and nearly crashes into the mirror, I fight back a giggle. When Rina and Elma do grand jetés that are mostly enthusiastic leaps of faith, affection floods me. Honestly, it's pure glittery chaos with this bunch, but that's what makes it perfect.

The last notes fade, and I clap. These little ladies deserve praise for all their hard work. It's fascinating to watch them as they learn to pirouette, plié, and passé, probably because it brings back childhood memories and memories of watching Story dance.

A mental note to myself: I need to call my niece. It's been ages since we actually talked.

A little body launches itself at me, and the movement tears me out of my thoughts. Sofia, a little blonde-haired devil, wraps her tiny arms around my legs.

With a pat on her back, I scan the class. “You were incredible. I'm so proud of every one of you.” I brush Sofia's curls from her face with my fingertips, and with a big smile, she releases me. “That's it for today, sugarplums. Shoes off, stickers up front, and don't forget to thank your parents!”

The group breaks into a collective squeal, and then they stampede toward the sticker bin.

I can't help but laugh. This right here is why I became a teacher. Sometimes, I miss being on stage, sure, but the satisfaction and fulfillment I get doing this outweigh that sadness. I may not perform anymore, but that doesn't mean I don't dance.

I'm only twenty-four. When I dance these days, it's without the weight of expectations or jealousy.

“No wonder it's so loud in here,” Nastya says from the doorway. Kids usually call her Miss Ana or Anastasia, but when we met shortly after she moved to the U.S from Belarus, I asked her what name she prefers, and I've stuck with it. It's the one her parents and friends use.

She's dressed in black leggings and a loose tee, her red hair in soft waves over her shoulders.

“I'm being attacked by glitter and giggles.”

“Aww, death by cuteness. Could be worse.” She gives me a quick hug and plants a kiss on my cheek. Then, she settles beside me, her back pressed to the wall and her arms crossed. “So?”

I arch a brow, pretending I don't know what she wants.

“I need the details. Spill. Finance Guy. Third-date guy. Whatever we're calling him now.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. “He has a name, you know.”

“This early on, I don't care about his name. I'd rather not overload my poor brain with useless information if you give him the boot.”

Snorting, I brush sparkles off my leggings.

“Did he talk about crypto again, or has he moved on to N.F.T's?” She presses her hand to her chest. “Or wait—did he give you investment tips?”

“Goodness, why are you always so negative?”

“It's easier this way. Less disappointment, since I never expect anything good in the first place.” She winks at me. “You've known me for six years. Why are you still surprised?”

“I love you.” I blow her a kiss. “Actually, Will was nice. We talked for a few hours, and he spent most of that time asking about me. What I do for a living, what my interests are. He even had opinions on Broadway musicals, and they were valid.

Pretty sure there will be a fourth date once he comes back from his business trip. I'm into him, and it's real this time.”

“Wow. Love the progress.” She gently pats my shoulder. “Did you have a chance to ask about his past relationships? He's ten years older, right? I can imagine he's got a good amount of baggage.”

“You're gonna love this. I think I finally found a guy who isn't allergic to honesty when I ask the tough questions.” I grin. “He's divorced and has a daughter. When he talked about his little girl, his eyes lit up. The man loves his kid. In my book, that's a green flag.”

Nastya stares at me, her expression giving away how unimpressed she is.

I roll my eyes. “You don't even have to speak. Your face says it all.”

“My face?” She feigns offense. “Ry, I'm from Eastern Europe. Rumor is, we never smile. We're always grumpy because we're never happy.”

“Ha,” I say. “That couldn't be farther from the truth. You're just selective about who you give your smiles to. And your face has its own subtitles, even when your mouth is shut.”

“And now, Piper thinks I'm rubbing off on you.” She winks at me.

The ruckus in the room grows louder as parents file in and the girls take turns telling me goodbye. It's utter chaos, but I'll miss this energy during summer break. I love my job, and I love these girls more than anything.

So, I kneel and say my goodbyes. I revel in the warm hugs the girls give me and remind them of how wonderful they are, making sure they know I can't wait to see them again.

Nastya observes silently, like she often does. The friendship we created our freshman year at the New York School of Performing Arts means more to me than I ever could've expected.

Just as the last of the families have gone, the door swings open again, and I see him: Finance Guy, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, his dark brown hair slicked back. He stands in the doorway with Rosie, a student who joined my class about a month ago.

He rests a hand on her shoulder, and the movement draws my attention to the gold band he must have forgotten to wear on any of our dates. He freezes, his light-blue eyes widening in shock.

“Erm, hi,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Rosie wanted to introduce me to her favorite teacher.”

Rosie's mom, who must be this asshole's wife, appears at his side and wraps an arm around his torso. Her curly blonde hair spills over his shoulder as she sets her head on it. “I'm so sorry, Ms. Evans. Rosie's super busy dad finally found time to come pick her up, and she was so excited for him to meet you.”

I force a smile, keeping my attention on her. “That's absolutely okay. Rosie is wonderful, and she learns so quickly. I'm sure she'll catch up to the girls who started at the beginning of the year in no time.” I meet the fucker's eyes. “And it's so great to meet Rosie's dad. Thank you for finding time in your super busy schedule.”

His mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” I say, keeping my tone so sweet, it makes my teeth hurt.

With a steadying breath, I crouch and hold my arms out for the little girl. “You were amazing today, Rosie. Your turns are getting so good.”

She rushes to me and squeezes me tight. Her mom can't stop smiling while her father looks downright uncomfortable. Once they finally leave and the door closes, I let out a deep sigh. My shoulders droop, the heaviness in my chest growing tenfold.

Another disappointment. Am I really surprised, though?

“You look like you've seen a ghost.”

I shudder involuntarily and snap my head up. I've been so caught in the moment, I totally forgot my best friend is still here.

“What's wrong?” Nastya struts over to me, her brows pinched in concern.

“I guess there won't be a fourth date.”

Her mouth forms a little O. “No way. That was him? Finance Guy?”

Lips pressed together, I nod.

“The 'divorced' one? With the little daughter he loves so much?”

“Mm-hmm.”

She mutters in Russian. “Ya v ahue.”⁠

I'm one hundred percent sure she's cursing. She never slips into her native language otherwise.

She throws her hands in the air. “Dammit, Ry. What are you, a magnet for liars with commitment issues?”

“I think I'm cursed.” I sink to the floor and slump against the wall. “At this point, I'm one heartbreak away from adopting ten cats and starting a podcast about my nonexistent dating life.”

“Oh, please.” She huffs. “You know you'd get a Pomeranian. You can't handle cats. You'd never survive the hairballs. I'm talking from experience, and you know I love my cat.” She sits beside me. “I'm so sorry, babe. I'm so fucking mad this shit keeps happening to you.”

“I haven't been in a relationship since…junior year. And even that wasn't anything more than a three-month stint of hooking up and going out for pizza and drinks.” I will myself not to cry. “What's wrong with me?”

“Hey.” Nastya shifts and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Look at me.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from falling apart in front of her.

“There is nothing wrong with you. You are brilliant. Smart. Beautiful. Talented.” She rubs her hands up and down my arms. “You're kind and compassionate.

The person who sees all of you, who appreciates you the way they should, will be the luckiest in the world. Don't waste your time or energy thinking about the finance idiot. He doesn't deserve it. Thank God you've only been out with him three times.

Imagine if you'd been together for three months? Or three years?” She pulls me in for a hug. “Because some people, my girl, hide their true nature way too well.”

Despite the way my chest aches, I can't help but smile as I bury my face in her hair.

“You're my best friend in the world,” I whisper.

“And you're mine.” When she leans away, her green eyes sparkle with mischief.

Knowing that look all too well, I ask, “What do you have in mind?”

“We're going out Friday.” She stands and holds out a hand to me. “You. Me. Tequila. And someplace we can dance the night away.”

“Grant won't mind?”

“My husband knows how important you are to me, and he loves you too.” She helps me to my feet. “And since when do I need his permission? We're partners; forbidding each other is not our style.”

“I admire your marriage so much. Yours and Piper's.” I sigh. “You make me hopeful that maybe one day, I'll meet my person too.”

Head tilted, she gives me a sympathetic smile. “You will. I wholeheartedly believe it.”

My phone buzzes on the desk, snagging my attention, so I shuffle across the room and pick it up.

Piper:

Hey. Can you do me a favor?

I talked to my sister this morning on my way to the studio, and she didn't mention needing a favor. This can't be good.

Buzz.

Piper:

Could you go check on Hade? We're worried. He's not picking up again.

I stare at the screen.

Usually, I wouldn't mind. Hade is not only my sister's best friend, but he's also her husband's brother. Plus, I've known him since I was a little girl. Finding his friend, his bandmate, Owen, dead after he committed suicide four months ago has taken a toll on him.

But Hayden is the last person I want to see tonight. I'm already a mess, and being near him will only make it worse.

“What is it?” Nastya asks.

“It's Piper. Hayden isn't picking up again.” Sighing, I turn to face her. “She asked me to check on him.”

Nastya narrows her eyes. “He's still struggling?”

There's no judgement in her voice, only concern.

“Yeah, and the media frenzy only made it worse. All the articles and pictures…” I shudder. Celebrities really have no privacy, not even in death. Pictures of Owen's hotel room circulated within hours, and the photos from the cemetery were so hard to look at. How insensitive. I was sick to my stomach after seeing them online. “I could never be as cool with all the attention as Piper was when she and Hunter got together, and I can't imagine living under a microscope the way Hayden does.”

“Being famous is great until you become the paparazzi's target,” Nastya comments. “Their hunt for Hayden after was fucking disgusting. I can't imagine how it was for him, but…I'm worried about you.”

I hold her gaze, not letting my apprehension show. “I'm fine.”

“We both know you've had a crush on him forever. And with how often you see him, I'm afraid you'll get hurt.”

I rub my hands down my thighs, looking away. The empty feeling in the pit of my stomach anytime Hayden is involved only spreads, making my skin itchy.

“He's still the most gorgeous man I've ever seen. But I don't think of him in that way, and he doesn't see me in that way either. I'll always be Piper's little sister to him.”

She rolls her eyes. “I'm skeptical.”

A short laugh escapes as my nerves get the best of me. Her skepticism isn't a good sign. It never is. Nine times out of ten, she ends up right.

“You always are.” I collect my things from the desk and head toward the door. “Let's go change. I don't want to get to Hade's place too late. I have an early morning class tomorrow.”

Lips pursed, Nastya studies me for a moment then nods. “If there's one thing I know about you, it's that you're stubborn. I should know by now not to try to convince you of anything.”

I shoot her a wink over my shoulder. “True.”

We head to the locker room, chatting about our plans for Friday. I'm grateful for the distraction from thoughts of Hayden. I'll be consumed by them soon enough.

When I'm alone, they'll come rushing back. Because with the way my heart flutters when he's around, it's clear the feelings I've had for him since I was ten never dampened.

Hayden Hale was my first unrequited love, the object of all my affection for far too long, while I'm the girl he's never noticed.

1 I'm in shock (cursing)

3

lost boy

Riley

By the time I make it to the Upper West Side, it's almost eight. I'm tired, sweaty, and irritated about using my precious free time to play babysitter to a grown man who should know better than to ghost his entire family.

The annoyance quickly turns into guilt, though. What he's going through is horrific, and he deserves compassion.

Ugh, I'm so conflicted.

Also mildly anxious. Why do I care this much?

The doorman, James, buzzes me in with a nod, no questions asked. This isn't the first time I've shown up in the last two months. It's becoming a fucking habit, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

On the slow ride up to the penthouse, I mull over my life choices, from dating guys who turn out to be assholes to coming to Hade's rescue the moment I'm asked.

He's fine; he's going to be fine. I've repeated those words since I stepped out of the studio, but the tiny voice in the back of my mind continues to challenge me with questions like, What if he's not?

It's not just that Hayden isn't answering calls or texts. It's not just that he's isolating again. It's the pattern. Since Owen's death, he's been through so many cycles like this.

Some days, he's as lively as he's ever been, but those days are inevitably followed by days of silence—and those have been more frequent over the last several weeks. The way he's declining lately scares me. So does how easily he brushes off the concern any time one of us brings it up. He says he's grieving, but it's so much deeper than that. According to Piper, he's stopped writing music.

The label gave the band a year off to grieve, but now, it looks like that was a disservice.

When he's in the kind of state I assume he's in today, he shuts himself away. He refuses to fly home to California to see his family. He won't even hang out with Jimmy and Bo.

I know what depression looks like—hell, I lived it. I fucking danced through it, smiling and playing it cool while the stress of trying to be the best of the best and fighting for ballet roles was burning me alive. I know how good a person can be at hiding their worst parts when they don't want to burden those they care about.

And Hade is really damn good at it.

The desire to hide our pain can be strong, but holding it inside hurts more. I can help him, but only if he lets me.

I tap the key card he gave me when he bought this penthouse several years ago, and when the lock clicks open, I take a deep breath and brace myself. You can do this, Riley.

Inside, the only sound comes from the T.V. I close the door and kick off my shoes, easing my duffel bag to the floor before I wander down the dark hallway toward the glow of the screen.

His living room is massive, but it feels empty. There's no natural light today, with the curtains drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The charcoal gray sectional is half-buried under a crumpled throw blanket and a pile of his clothes.

The grand piano in the corner takes up a fair amount of space, but it's covered in stacks of unopened mail. If I took a closer look at the guitar in the stand beside it, I'd probably find dust. Empty containers and glass bottles litter the coffee table.

The air smells like stale takeout and weed, the only movement the flicker of light across Hade's face as he sits slumped on the couch.

He's in a black hoodie, hood pulled up, and black sweatpants. His attention is glued to the screen, but he's wearing a vacant look, like he's not actually seeing the movie. His phone is face down on the coffee table, probably on silent.

Straightening my spine, I step further into the room.

“Seriously?” I put my hands on my hips. “You can't answer a single phone call or text because you're too busy watching Fast & Furious?”

Hayden jumps slightly, his wide eyes meeting mine, his mouth open.

“I never should've given you a key,” he rasps.

His words sting, but he's hurting, so I let them slide. “Hunter and Piper are freaking out,” I say, moving closer. “As are your parents. I've sent a million texts, four voicemails. Each one was increasingly aggressive, so I'm sorry in advance.”

He sits up, but he won't meet my eye. Instead, his focus drifts back to the movie.

My blood heats with anger. I'm too tired for this behavior. “Hayden, what's going on?”

“Sorry. I put my phone on silent.”

“The issue with your phone is secondary.” I stop in front of the T.V so he can't ignore me. “You disappeared on everyone. Again.”

“Everything's just…loud.” He roughs a hand down his face.

It's not the first time he's used that word. Not painful, not stressful. Loud. Like his thoughts are screaming inside his head, but no one else can hear them.

I ease onto the cushion beside him and take him in. God, it's fucking worse than I thought. His dark green eyes are rimmed red, his usually clean-shaven jaw covered in thick stubble.

My heart aches for him.

Why are you doing this to yourself, Hayden?

The man looks like he's fading away.

Words bubble inside my throat, but none of them feel right. They won't fix this situation. A single visit won't either. I need to show up, again, and again, and again, until he understands I'm here for him no matter what.

So, I swallow my words and sit beside him.

After what feels like an eternity, he turns to me. “So. The date. How'd it go?”

I groan. Why did I mention it the last time I was here? “I don't think I want to go there.”

“I need the distraction. I'm bored.”

“And whose fault is that? Last week, you promised you'd get out more.”

“I always keep my promises, Ry baby.”

Fuck him. Why does he need to say my name like that?

“I went to see a friend two days ago, but her life is not as entertaining as yours.” He frowns, as if the thought of this person irritates him. “Please.”

“Fine.” I sit back and stare at the ceiling. “The date was good, and I had high hopes. But…turns out, he's married. Found out today, when he came to pick up his daughter from my ballet class, wedding ring and wife in tow.”

He drops his head back and lets it loll to the side. “Are you serious?”

Blinking back the sting of tears, I face him. “Mm-hmm.”

“Jesus.”

I focus on the ceiling again, my chest tightening. “I'm the biggest loser of all time when it comes to love and relationships. I genuinely think I'm cursed. Maybe someone hexed me, and I'm forever cursed to attract emotionally unavailable men and pathological liars.”

He chuckles throatily. “You're not cursed.”

I huff a humorless laugh. “I'm chronically unlucky, and I have the data to prove it. Years of receipts. At this point, my love life is nonexistent, and my relationship history is a tragicomedy.”

“I'm sorry. You deserve better.” His voice is deep, guttural.

Brows furrowed in surprise, I study him. He's angry for me. It's weirdly comforting—and maybe a little heartbreaking, because he clearly doesn't believe he deserves better.

“Thanks.” I tamp down the urge to reach out and touch him. “I'm going out with Nastya this Friday. Gonna drink tequila and dance until we're too exhausted to stand. I need to let loose a little. It will do me a lot of good.”

His expression turns more thoughtful, his lips tugging down. A heavy emotion shifts behind his eyes, but he doesn't speak. He doesn't let it out. Not just with me, but with anyone. He never told me what happened to Owen. I know nothing outside of what is available on the web, and he didn't tell Piper either.

It's eating him alive. He's consumed with guilt, but I don't understand why.

“I should probably go,” I say.

“Maybe you can stay,” he says, his voice barely audible. “Watch Fast & Furious with me?”

The request sends a thrill through me, but I'm afraid of who I am when he's around, of what being near him does to my body, my head, my heart.

I want to stay, to keep him company, to be here for him, but spending more than a few minutes with him is a terrible idea. Plus, I have an early class tomorrow.

With a sigh, I rub my chest. “It's late. I've got a bunch of little ladies to teach at eight a.m.”

“Next time then.” He gives me a half smile, a pretense at best.

I stand slowly and hover over him. “Will you please turn your phone on? That way the family won't send a search party—a.k.a. me—again.”

He brings a hand to his face in a quick salute. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Eat something healthy. And go take a shower, for God's sake. You need to take care of yourself.”

That gets a laugh. A real one, low and tired, but real. It works its way under my skin, flows deep in my veins, and heads straight to my heart.

Before the sensation causes me to drop back onto the couch and give in to the temptation to stay longer, I turn and stride for the elevator. “Bye, Hade,” I yell over my shoulder.

“See you, Ry baby.”

Without my permission, a smile blooms on my face. At least he can't see it. He doesn't need to know I have a crush on him. He doesn't need to know I'm still that silly schoolgirl who fell in love with her sister's best friend.

At the mouth of the dark hallway, I turn back and survey him one last time.

Hayden doesn't look lonely. He looks lost.

And I hate my stupid heart for how badly it wants me to find this lost boy.

4

the distraction of her

Hayden

As the elevator doors click shut, I stare at the space Riley occupied moments ago. Her voice still lingers in the room—sarcastic, light, way too caring for a guy who doesn't deserve a sliver of her attention or her worry.

Jesus. I'm practically thirty, and here's this fresh-faced twenty-four-year-old lecturing me about life.

I've known her since she was a kid. There were days when teasing her out of her wits was the best form of entertainment. She'd get so flustered, her cheeks would turn an adorable shade of pink, but she'd stand up for herself no matter what. She even threw punches at me a time or two. She's got a good left hook. A little tigress—not that I ever called her that. I preferred to annoy her by calling her a little monkey.

A barely there smile stretches across my lips as memories fill my brain. Life was so easy back then, long before Sabotage made it big.

The more time I spend with myself after Owen's death—and after my talks with Jimmy, Bo, Glenn, and the label about stepping back from the band—the more I think about what life would've been like if we'd continued flying under the radar of big labels.

What if we'd never won a Grammy? What if I hadn't gotten lost in the whirlwind of success? What if I hadn't been too busy, too preoccupied for deep conversations? What if my brain hadn't been so overloaded, and I'd really listened when my best friend spoke to me?

The moment the thought hits, guilt slams into me like a freight train. I cover my face with my hands, and I silently scream. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. In a matter of seconds, the numbness I'd found in dissociating vanishes like it was never there. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe I was fooling myself.

I need to snap out of it, at least for now.

I pause the movie and take in my surroundings for the first time in I don't know how long. My insides churn, and shame engulfs me. This place is a mess. Takeout containers. A pile of clothes on the couch. Dust and unopened stacks of mail on the piano I haven't touched in four months. The air is thick and stale, like it's been holding its breath with me.

With a huff, I scrub a hand down my face and push myself off the couch. Shower. I should shower. I smell like loneliness, like depression and wasted space.

On my way to the bathroom, I pull my hood back and rake my fingers through my hair. The sensation pulls a long sigh from me and brings with it a little relief. The day was shit, but I can still turn it around.

The water's too hot, but I relish the way it burns my skin. As the glass fogs and steam fills the shower stall, I take my time washing my body. Riley's presence silenced my racing thoughts, but once she walked out the door, the noise returned. So, I stand under the spray until my head is finally quiet.

Thank fuck it helps.

After my shower, I turn my ringer back on, though I don't check the missed calls and texts. I make my way through the apartment, tossing out old food containers, folding the throw blanket on the couch, loading the washing machine, wiping down the coffee table. It's not completely clean, but it's an improvement. Because even though Riley didn't say the words, I heard the message loud and clear: if I continue this spiral, my family will intervene, and I don't want them to see me like this, especially not Piper and Hunter.

When I was five, Mom and I returned from Spain to the States, leaving my brother in Europe to pursue his soccer dreams. I always assumed we left Spain the way we did because my parents wanted me to attend school in the U.S.

Hunter struggled with our parents' decision to leave, so I never blamed him for distancing himself from me. I lived with both our parents while his only support came from his agent and a caretaker. All my life, guilt ate at me. I always believed Mom and Dad chose me over him; in reality, we moved back because my father cheated on my mom, and they were determined to save their marriage.

If I'd known the truth sooner, it would've saved me a lot of heartache and pain. If I hadn't always felt like I caused Hunter's misery, maybe we could've strengthened our relationship sooner.

Only when he returned to the U.S nine years ago, his daughter in tow, did we begin to reconnect. It took a while, but we figured our shit out, and now, we're closer than I ever dreamed it could be.

My brother retired a few years ago. Once one of the biggest American soccer players, he's now coaching Santa Clara's team. And he's a good husband to my best friend.

Piper is one of a kind. She's been my ride or die since we were five years old, so it's no surprise she always sees right through my bullshit, through all the walls I've built. If she were to see me like this, she'd be on the first flight to New York, and I'd rather not throw her life into chaos like that.

I don't know what possesses me to do it, but I snag my guitar from its stand and sit on the couch. As I drag my fingers over the strings, I wince. Shit, it's so out of tune, it's embarrassing. It's been weeks since I felt good enough to play.

I tune it by ear then strum something soft. G minor. Then D, followed by C. The sound drifts around me, sliding under my skin and burrowing into my chest, mixing with my heartbeat. I hum along and then close my eyes. For a moment, I almost feel at ease, but snapping back to reality is brutal.

The memory flashes in my head like lightning, and I have zero chance of stopping it. The sound. The smell. The fucking image of that room. It's seared into my brain. I'd give anything to forget it, but I remember every detail so damn perfectly.

The door to his hotel room cracked open—no more music, only silence so heavy, it was hard to breathe. The wrong kind of silence, the kind I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy.

I knew something was wrong before I walked into the room. Time stopped when I finally pushed the door wide open. Nothing could've prepared me for what I saw.

Blood on the wall. His body slumped on the couch. The guitar still in his lap, his lucky pick on the floor along with the gun.

I dropped to my knees and screamed.

A piercing sound startles me. Shit. It's me. I'm on my knees again, screaming and crying like I did that day. I toss the guitar aside and press my palms to my face. The guilt I've been pushing away surges forward again, swallowing me whole. I should've known. I knew he wasn't okay, but I let him convince me he was good enough.

I knew he was fucking lying through his teeth, but I didn't push the way I should have. I thought I had time, thought he'd come around and tell me what was worrying him.

I was a fucking idiot.

My friend, my bandmate, committed suicide. I should have done more. I should have been able to stop him.

“Fuck,” I whisper, wiping away tears with the back of my hand.

The suffocating guilt never leaves me alone. It's always lurking under the surface, but it's especially bad on days when I feel like total shit. Like today.

I force myself to take a few deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Breathe.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table, and I grab it like it's a lifeline. Maybe it is, because it's Piper calling, and there's a good chance Hunter is with her.

I swipe to answer, and there they are, side by side on the couch in their living room in Santa Clara. Piper's blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. She's dressed in a pastel pink T-shirt, while Hunter is shirtless, both wearing relieved smiles. Fuck. That both warms my heart and makes me incredibly anxious. I don't want them to worry about me.

Hunter lets out a dry chuckle. “Look who's finally taking calls.”

I sit up straighter so I don't look like I just clawed my way out of a breakdown. “I didn't expect your call until tomorrow.”

“Riley said she stopped by,” Piper says. “Thanks for not ignoring her, I guess.”

I purse my lips. “She should've told you no.”

“But she didn't.” My best friend gives me a chastising look. “Ry worked today, and she has an early class tomorrow, but she still stopped in to check on you. She cares about you. We all do.”

The ever-present guilt settles in my chest, making it hard to breathe. As if I don't feel miserable enough already.

I nod. “I'm sorry, really. Just… Some days are hard, and I don't want to burden you with my shit.”

“We're family, Hade,” Piper says, leaning in closer. “We're always here for you, whatever you need. Me, Hunter, even Ry. Please stop shutting us out.”

A strange combination of affection and remorse swirls inside me. “That means a lot. I love you guys. I promise, I'll do better.”

While they fill me in on what Story and Hudson are up to and talk about their plans for the weekend, I force myself to stay engaged, asking questions when expected, making silly jokes to prove I'm okay. They only let me end the call after I promise to text more often and to not set my phone on silent when I'm at home. But before the call is over, my mind's already elsewhere. When Hunter brought up Riley again, near the end of the conversation, all my focus shifted to her.

The way she stood in my living room with her hands on her hips, like she was ready to show me her famous left hook, but she still sat and talked to me.

My heart clenches when I recall how her face fell when she told me about that finance guy. A married fucker with a kid. I really hoped this guy would be a good one. She deserves a man who treats her well. Her dating stories make my blood boil, make me want to hunt down every asshole who has ever hurt her.

What I hate even more is that she thinks she's the problem, like she's doing something wrong and that's why she can't meet a man worthy of her.

It's bullshit.

She's smart, funny, kind, and while I don't allow myself to think about her in that way, she's gorgeous. I'm not the only one who notices how stunning she is. I've seen guys checking her out more than once. She's perfect. I only wish she could see that.

As that thought loops through my brain, I pick up my phone again. I vaguely remember her saying she teaches at that little studio on Broome Street. I could show up tomorrow, just for a few minutes, to say hi. Bring coffee. Do something to cheer her up after that disaster with the finance guy.

And maybe because I need her, or at least the distraction.

Making her see what an amazing woman she is could definitely bring me good karma. Plus, it's a reason for me to leave this place. One more reason to live a little.

Riley is probably the only person who doesn't walk on eggshells around me these days, who isn't afraid to scold me and put me in my place. She even managed to make me laugh after I spent the whole day brooding.

Maybe cheering her up will help me stop feeling like I'm falling apart.

And honestly? I desperately need something to keep me from losing control.

5

what is so different?

Hayden

When my alarm goes off, the room is slightly lit, thanks to the sunlight slicing through the gap between the curtains. I fix my focus on the ceiling and wait for the oh so familiar weight to settle in. Minutes pass, but the suffocating sensation doesn't come. I don't feel light, but I can breathe. Looks like my brain has chosen not to torture me for the first time in a week.

I'll take the reprieve, even if it's only one good day. With a grunt, I swing my legs off the bed. Slowly, I stand, stretching and yawning.

I don't usually get out of bed until after ten, so this seven thirty wake-up call is a little brutal. Old habits die hard, and I'm the best example of it. I've played gigs and shows for years, which means it's rare I'm in bed before 2 AM, even when I'm not on the road.

When my phone buzzes on the nightstand, I frown at it. Because of my sleeping habits, no one calls this early. I pick it up, and when Ines' name flashes across the screen, I answer immediately.

“Hey. You're up early.” I rub the back of my neck. “I was gonna call you later. I got the lego set you told me about the last time I saw you.”

“Sleeping in is a privilege when you live with a two-year-old,” she says with a light laugh. “Or a kid in general. I hope I didn't wake you.”

“Nah. Believe it or not, I was actually already up.” I wander down the hallway to the bathroom. “I thought I'd stop by later. Is that okay? I bought some toys for your little man.”

“Always.” She sighs. “You're always welcome at our place.”

“Awesome. I have places to be this morning, but I can swing by around lunchtime. What do you guys want to eat?”

“You don't have to⁠—”

My chest tightens. She's always so quick to turn down help. Dammit. “I want to,” I tell her. “Come on, give me something.”

She lets out a long exhale and chuckles softly. “If you insist. Santi is obsessed with the chocolate croissants from the pastry shop near the park, and I love their coffee.”

“Caramel latte?” I ask as I flip on the bathroom light. I immediately regret it. Squinting, I flip it off again.

“Um…yeah. I'm surprised you remember.”

“As much coffee as I've picked up for you? I'd be a total ass if I didn't know what you liked by now.” I lick my dry lips. “So, caffeine for you, croissants for Santi. Got it.”

Ines sounds softer by the end of the call. Hopeful, even. It warms my heart; that's exactly why I'm doing it. I don't want Owen's widow to be alone during the grieving process, so I've made an effort to visit often. Since the funeral, we've both needed the company of someone familiar, someone to lean on when the weight of Owen's decision became impossible to ignore. Jimmy and Bo are grieving too, but they weren't anywhere near as close to Owen as I was, and they surely weren't the ones to find him that morning.

Some days, a call from her is what keeps me going, what pushes me to crawl out of my bed and leave this apartment. Ines has no family in the U.S, no one but Santi and me. Owen's parents are around, but her relationship with them has been strained since his death. If the parent of my significant other blamed me for their death, I probably would've done what Ines did and gone no contact too.

It's her right as Santi's mom to keep him from people with such hate in their hearts, and that's what I said to Owen's mother when she begged me to convince Ines to let them see their grandson. I've been on her shit list ever since.

Being around Ines and Santi brings me comfort. We were never all that close before we lost Owen, but now, she's like my anchor, steadying me when my legs can't hold my weight. I'm the only person she can count on, and I have to be strong for her. I suspect I'm grounding her too.

All I want is to support her and her little boy. She's family, just like Riley.

Shit.

I need to get going. With any luck, my timing will work out.

On my way to the studio, I stop at a café to order what I remember as Riley's go-to: iced flat white with oat milk. The barista recognizes me, but thankfully, all I get are a few curious glances and one request for an autograph. Once my order is ready, I snag it from the pickup counter. I'm proud for a whole thirty seconds before a feminine voice bursts my bubble.

“That hasn't been her favorite for six months.”

I frown and turn, finding myself face-to-face with Nastya. She's in a white summer dress paired with golden sandals, her red hair collected into a high ponytail. She's beautiful, but I'd be lying if I said she doesn't terrify me. Green eyes glued to my face, she studies me as if I'm some animal prepped for dissection.

“Hey. Didn't expect to see you here.”

She blinks and cants her head to the side, her ponytail brushing her shoulder. “No, Hayden, it's me who didn't expect to see you at the café where Ry and I get our coffee almost every day. You are the anomaly here.”

Chuckling, I shake my head. This girl is a menace.

She's an incredible dancer. Not Riley's level good but still awesome. It's fucking sad that her tibia fracture from a couple of years ago got in the way of her career.

The reason she doesn't dance professionally is well-known, but what I don't know is why Riley quit ballet. I've asked many times, but she's never opened up about it. Piper won't tell me either. There were no injuries, and if there'd been a scandal, I think I would've heard. A year ago, she left the company she danced for and started teaching at a prestigious studio owned by Adelaide Brown, another former ballerina.

Between that mystery and my coffee fuckup, I'm beginning to wonder if I know Riley at all.

“Ry doesn't drink oat milk anymore,” Nastya says, bringing me back to reality. “Switched to almond. And she always orders an extra shot of espresso.”

“Okay.” I frown at the cup in my hand. “I suppose I don't need this anymore.”

With an eye roll, Nastya takes the cup from my hand. She tosses it in the trash then strides to the counter. “Iced flat white with two shots of espresso and almond milk.” She jabs her manicured thumb at me. “It's on him.”

“Damn, you're bossy,” I tell Nastya as the barista moves to the espresso machine. “The kids you teach must be scared of you.”

A ghost of a smile spreads across her lips. “I work with teenagers. Gotta be a little scary if I want them to listen. I leave the littles to Ry. She's the soft one while I'm…me.”

“Ry baby can be strict too, at least with me.”

She narrows her eyes.

“What?” I shift awkwardly, slipping my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

“What are you doing here?” she asks rather than answering my question.

“Just wanted to stop by and thank her for checking on me yesterday.” I nod at the barista. “I'm trying to be nice.”

“And you would've failed, but I guess the effort counts.”

“Then I'm lucky you showed up for coffee yourself.”

She smirks. “Please. I saw you walking in, and I have a sixth sense for guys who have no idea what they're doing.”

“Then how come Ry continues to date assholes?”

This time, the smile that blooms on her face is real and infectious. “too-shay.” She picks up the cup containing the correct drink and holds it out to me. “But in my defense, she's too stubborn to actually listen to me.”

“Stubbornness definitely runs in the family. Piper is the same way.”

“They are sisters, after all.” With a click of her tongue, Nastya heads to the door. “Riley's stretching between classes. Room fourteen. Try not to be weird.”

I let out a laugh. “No promises.”

I've only been inside this place twice, but I find room fourteen quickly. Quietly, I stand outside the door and watch Riley through the glass. She's on the floor, dressed in black leggings and a black crop top.

She's added blue highlights to her blonde hair and has it pulled into a bun on top of her head. With one leg extended, she keeps the other tucked behind her in a deep lunge, her spine elongated and her arms resting on the floor. A loose strand of hair falls across her cheek, but she does nothing to fix it. She's completely lost in her own world.

I can't move, and I can't look away.

She shifts, folding over into another stretch, reaching for her toes, her forehead nearly grazing the tops of her knees. The movement is fluid, like water sliding down a waterslide. It's like her body knows what to do on its own. A soft exhale leaves her lips—in the silence of the empty room, the sound travels all the way to me at the door.

My throat tightens as I watch. Her movements are slow, graceful, mesmerizing. My body warms from the inside out so thoroughly, I worry the drink in my hand will be room temperature before I give it to her. I can't take my eyes off her.

This isn't the first time I've seen her stretch, and I've watched her dance numerous times. Yet, today is different. Watching her now is connecting me to my past, a direct link to who I was before. Before Sabotage signed with the label.

Before the band's success. Before the world tour. Before I lost my friend. Before the grief.

Riley is part of my old life. She belongs to a past free of sorrow and regret. With my parents, Hunter, and Piper almost three thousand miles away, maybe she's the closest thing I have to home.

No matter how much I want to convince myself I'm here just to say hi and thank you, the reality is I need her, more than I realized until this moment. Yes, Ines and Santi give me purpose. They get me out of my apartment and moving through the world, but the only time I've felt like myself in the last four months was when Riley was around.

I bite the inside of my cheek as my thoughts race and my heartbeat takes off. I need a plan. I need to get my life back. Being near Riley makes me hopeful again, but I don't want her to feel obligated, so how do I make this work?

Dammit, I never expected to come to this conclusion when I decided to see her today.

The lightheartedness flooding me is almost foreign as I knock twice on the doorframe.

6

you're not joking

Riley

I could've put music on, and usually, I do. But today, I'm craving silence. Too many thoughts have coiled inside my head, making it difficult to focus on anything for too long. Thank God I made it through my morning class without too much difficulty.

They're the hardest group I've ever had. The eight-year-olds are mischief personified, and I've never met children with so much attitude. Luckily, they love me. If only they could all get along. It would save me from having to put out so many fires.

I swear, I wasn't like that at their age.

The moment the thought pops into my head, I freeze. What the hell? I sound like my mom! Goodness, I need to snap out of it.

With a deep breath, I recenter myself and focus on my stretch again.

The knock on the door startles me. When a way too familiar voice says, “Hi, Ry baby. I hope I'm not interrupting,” I genuinely consider my mostly sleepless night is causing me to hallucinate. Because…why would he be here?

I look up and find Hayden in the mirror. He looks infuriatingly gorgeous, especially for a man who looked like he was barely surviving last night. He's in a black tee, dark blue jeans, and black sneakers.

His bleached hair is naturally messy, the sides short, and he looks boyish now that the scruff on his face is gone, though the tattoos covering his neck and arms give him an edgier look. My mouth goes dry as I drink him in.

What is he doing here? And with coffee?

“Ry?”

Only when he says my name do I realize I'm staring. Oh my fucking God! I sit up too fast and nearly pull my hamstring. Real graceful, Riley.

“Hi, Hade,” I say in a high-pitched voice, my cheeks heating. The whole situation gets worse with each second. Clearing my throat, I force back my embarrassment and stand. “What are you doing here?”

Grinning, he saunters in and holds out the plastic cup. “A thank-you for looking out for me. And also an apology for being a pain in the ass last night.”

I take the cup and slowly press it to my lips. The moment the flavor hits my tongue, I turn into a gooey mess. “This is my favorite.”

“I'm glad you like it.” He threads his fingers through his hair. “Though I have to give Nastya all the credit. I ran into her at the coffee shop.”

Oh.

A weird flicker of disappointment flashes in my head. Silly Riley. Did you really think he'd remember such a small detail about you?

Stop this. I mentally scold myself even as I plaster on a smile. “Thanks. It's perfect.”

“Don't tell your best friend, but she's scary. I was afraid to argue when she told me my initial order was wrong and I had to buy another drink for you.”

I let out a laugh. “Sounds like Nastya all right.” I bring my drink to my lips, giving myself an excuse to look at him over the rim.

He's quiet, taking in the space—the mirrors, the barre, the soft scuffs on the floors, the little desk in the corner.

He looks…lighter today. Not quite as free of burdens as he used to be, but better.

The shadows under his eyes are gone, the grief subdued.

When he catches me staring, he raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” My heart clenches. “You just look…more alive than you did yesterday. I like it.”

“Took a shower like you suggested. I cleaned up the apartment and went to bed early. Even made fried eggs for breakfast this morning. I've got a long way to go, but I call it progress.”

A hint of relief threads its way through me. “Good to hear. But what are you doing here? I'm not buying into this whole Good Samaritan thing. It's not you.”

Hayden plops himself down on the floor, stretches his legs in front of him, and leans back on his hands. With a sheepish smile, he says, “I was in the neighborhood.”

I lower myself onto the floor and give him a skeptical look.

He sighs, his shoulders drooping. “Okay. Fine. I'm in desperate need of a distraction.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” I set the cup on the floor beside me.

“I really did want to thank you for yesterday.” He scratches the back of his neck, his attention roaming for a moment before locking on me again. “But I also realized your company distracts me from my problems, gives me a break from my…thoughts. Quiets my mind. I thought I'd ask if we could maybe hang out together from time to time.” He swallows, the roses tattooed on his neck moving up and down with his Adam's apple. “If you say no, I'll totally understand. There's no pressure.”

I blink. His explanation gives some context for sure, yet… “When you say you want to hang out from time to time, what do you mean?”

“Just that. We hang out when you have time. Go out for lunch or dinner. Take a walk. See a movie. That kind of thing.”

There was a time in my life when a request like this from him would've knocked me on my ass. I would've given anything to be noticed by him. Now? I've been around long enough to know he'd never be interested in me, that he wouldn't make a good partner for me, and with this pesky crush that won't die, subjecting myself to more time with him is a straight line to heartbreak. My heartbreak.

“I don't know how we can make that work,” I lie.

He pops up one shoulder easily. “Are you still going dancing on Friday?”

I nod.

“Then maybe I can go with you.”

“Nastya will be there too,” I deadpan.

“Okay.” He tips his head to the side. “You think she'd be against it?”

Absolutely, but not for reasons I can say aloud.

“I'll need to ask her.” I pick up my cup and take a sip. “We wanted to have fun, let loose a little. I thought I might meet a new guy.” I arch an eyebrow. “You sure you want to join our madness?”

“Why not?” He leans forward, smiling at me as if we're conspiring together, his dark green eyes warm. “I can even be your wingman.”

I scoff. Right. Next, he'll say he can help me teach Swan Lake to five-year-olds. “My wingman?”

“Sure. I can give you a man's perspective on the guys who approach you. I could observe, screen your options, help weed out the jackasses before they even have a chance to ask you out.”

Laughter bubbles out of me. He's fucking ridiculous.

“Let's say I agree.” I straighten and then cross my legs. “You go dancing with Nastya and me, and then what? Are you going to sit at the bar and judge my potential dates based on how they act around me?”

“Yes.”

“What if someone recognizes you?” And they will, because he is Hayden Hale. His face has been plastered all over socials and gossip blogs for months.

“I'll tell them they're mistaken.” The corner of his mouth tips up. “I'll have zero bias, and I won't be trying to impress anyone or meet anyone myself.”

“You're not joking,” I conclude, horrified.

“Dead serious,” he says. “If I can give you some insight and help keep you from ending up with another stupid fucker, then I'm in. Plus, it will distract me from my issues.”

I open my mouth and close it. I don't even know what to say.

The door creaks open, and two of the girls enrolled in my next class peek in. The moment they spot Hayden, they retreat.

Slowly, he gets up and holds his hand out. I let him pull me to my feet then instantly retract my hand. The number of butterflies assaulting my insides after that gesture alone is concerning.

He dips his head. “Think about it. Please.”

With that, he's gone, leaving me utterly confused.

The ten-year-olds who make up my last class of the day make my heart sing as they rehearse The Sleeping Beauty waltz. The girls glide across the floor, their arms rounded, their feet pointed, just like I've taught them. They move a little too quickly during some of the transitions, but their timing is getting better. Elena catches my eye, and I smile. She reminds me a lot of Story. She's talented, and if she wanted to dance professionally, she would have a successful career.

All through the hour-long class, I vacillate between being focused on the girls and spiraling internally. It's nearly impossible to banish Hayden from my mind. He looked alive during our little conversation, genuinely engaged and earnest. I didn't notice a sliver of the pretense I've seen so often from him lately.

His proposal to screen my possible dates is ridiculous, but what do I have to lose? If coming out with us could help get him on the path to healing, then it's worth being part of his weird social experiment. If it means him finding happiness again, I can deal with the confusion his presence always causes. If I'll get to see his genuine smile again, then why not?

Once I'm done with classes for the day, I join Nastya across the street at our favorite lunch spot, Dana's Table.

“I just want to confirm I've got it right,” Nastya says, her tone full of disbelief. “Hayden wants to go out with us so he can…filter out potentially bad dates?”

I nod, keeping my attention on my salad.

“And you didn't laugh in his face?”

Finally, I peer up at her. “I actually did. He didn't care.”

“It doesn't make any sense.” She shakes her head. “But what makes even less sense is that you look like you're considering it.”

With a sigh, I set my fork on the plate. “Because I am,” I admit. “He looked so much better today than he did last night. And if coming out with us helps him feel like himself again, I can't say no, no matter how weird the suggestion is.”

She snorts. “You are so delusional, you know that? Ry, it's not weird—it's dangerous.”

My stomach sinks. “Why?”

“Hello? Because you're into him. If he's there, no other guy will have a chance.”

As I think through a response, I pat my lips with a napkin. Then, I take a deep breath and meet her gaze. “What if you're wrong? What if it's exactly what I need in order to let go of my stupid fantasies? I'll flirt with other guys, and he won't care one bit. It'll be concrete proof he has no interest in me. A reminder he'll never look at me that way.”

“We have a saying in Russian: klin klinom vyshibayut. Basically, it means 'fight fire with fire.' But I don't think it'll work the way you think.”

I open my mouth to argue with her, but she raises her hand and goes on.

“I'll respect whatever decision you make. Only you can decide what's best for you. If you think it's a good idea, invite him. I'll be nice.”

Ridiculously, I break into a grin.

“Let me amend that. I will try to be nice. But no promises.”

“I wouldn't expect anything less from you.” Warmth spreads over my skin, filling me with happiness. I'm blessed to have a friend like her, even on days when she's ready to bite my head off.

When we part ways, I head toward the subway, taking in my surroundings. The city buzzes around me, the sounds of cars, conversations, and faint music a familiar soundtrack. The lively atmosphere makes me lift my head higher and keep my back straighter. Even my steps are faster, more rhythmic, so when I pull out my phone to send a quick text to Hayden, it feels like I'm doing it in slow motion.

Me:

Hi again. Talked to Nastya. You can come Friday. I'll send you the details later.

I hesitate for a second then type another message.

Me:

The first round of drinks is on you, and if you scare anyone off, I'll make you do pliés for my socials.

I hit send before I can change my mind, and then I pocket my phone and smile into the sun.

7

why are you smiling though?

Hayden

The studio door clicks shut behind me, and I head down the stairs, my thoughts in total disarray. A small group of girls chat excitedly on their way upstairs, but all I hear is white noise.

What the hell was I thinking? Thank fuck I'm good at hiding my emotions. The last thing I wanted was for Riley to see how shocked I was by what I'd said.

Why did I do that?

The plan was simple: bring her coffee, thank her for checking on me, maybe stay for a few minutes to banter because our interactions are always energizing.

Oh, and vow not to get her involved in my plan to dig myself out of this depression hole. But I guess I fucking flushed that down the drain.

Because inviting myself out with her so I can “filter out her dates” definitely makes her involved.

Ugh, what was that?

At least she didn't say yes. She just gave me that wide-eyed are you serious? look. Now I have to pray Nastya will tell Ry hell no. After today's interaction, it's clear she isn't my biggest fan, so there's a chance.

On the street, I walk to my black Land Rover Defender and quickly slide inside. I don't typically drive myself, but while I'm on hiatus and spending most of my days navigating between my apartment and Ines', the label agreed that I don't need my driver, Wyatt, around all the time.

“Well, Hayden Hale, today you reached a new level of stupidity. Congratulations.” I look at myself in the rearview mirror and shake my head. “If Piper finds out about this, she'll eat me alive. Or maybe not, since I'd kinda be keeping an eye on Riley at the club.” I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. “Dammit, I hope she says no. And that she doesn't mention anything to her sister.”

With a deep breath in, I shift into gear and head for the café near Ines' place. As I slowly roll away from the dance studio, I let the cacophony of New York distract me from my disastrous visit with Riley.

By the time I get to Ines' apartment, my nerves have settled a bit. I'm still kicking myself for my blunder, but since there's nothing I can do now, I focus my attention on things that actually matter—and Ines and Santi matter a ton.

When Ines opens the door, she wears a gentle smile, her dark brown eyes sparkling. “You're right on time, as always.”

“I came bearing gifts.” I hold the bag of croissants and a caramel latte in one hand, the lego duplo set under my arm.

She steps aside, gesturing for me to come in. “Santi's been asking about you since breakfast.”

Warm affection unfurls in my chest. He's the cutest kid. “Aw, I missed my little man too.”

She takes the coffee and croissants so I can slip off my shoes, but rather than head to the table, she watches me. Her curly black hair is in a messy bun, with several loose pieces framing her face. She's in a loose red Sabotage T-shirt and tiny black shorts. Her golden-brown skin is warm in the sunlight filtering in through the living room windows.

As I catalog her, Owen's voice is loud in my head, willing the memories to return. God, he loved his wife so much. He called her “mi reina.” The guy was never afraid to show his affection, and since she was the band's official photographer before her pregnancy, there were lots of opportunities to do so.

After Santi was born, Owen changed drastically, and I still don't understand why.

“You okay?”

I blink, banishing the dark thoughts to the recesses of my brain. I'm here for my friend, not to get lost in all the whys and what-ifs. I have plenty of time to do that on my own.

“Sorry, I just spaced out.”

“I noticed.” Chuckling, she heads to the living room.

I follow her quietly. Two steps into the living room, Santi appears, running at full speed and launching himself at my legs like a mini linebacker.

“Tío!” he squeals. He's been calling me “uncle” since he started talking, and it makes my chest swell with love every time. We might not be related by blood, but he is my family now, along with his mom.

I kneel so we're eye to eye. “Hey, champ. I have something for you.” I hold out the lego box. “Your mommy told me you wanted this truck.”

“Trucks!” He grabs the box and presses it to his chest. His eyes are the same color as his mom's, but his chestnut hair and his little upturned nose remind me so much of Owen. My friend will live on through his son, and that's the most precious thing in the world.

“Santi,” Ines says as she settles on the couch, “what do you say to Hayden?”

“Thank you!” He grabs my hand and drags me to the corner, where several toys are scattered on the floor. The T-Rex is riding in a dump truck decorated with stickers and one googly eye that definitely wasn't there last week. This boy is chaos, I swear. “I wanna play,” he tells me, pointing at his new lego set and then at me.

“Of course I'll play with you.”

I sit beside him, legs crossed, as he tears into the box. The kid is so impatient. His eagerness brings a lightness to my limbs that is so rare these days.

I lean forward and gently put a hand over one of his. “Bud, try not to tear up the instruction book.”

Once the truck has been put together, we take a break for lunch. Afterward, Santi and I play hide-and-seek, in which he hides and I seek.

Only when he rubs his eyes and yawns do I realize how long I've stayed. He probably missed his nap, and I know from experience how cranky he can be when that happens.

“Maybe you can read to him?” Ines stands and quietly digs through a small bin of books. “He'll probably fall right asleep.”

“Sure.” I take the book she's holding out for me—Goodnight Moon—and say, “Santi, your tío is tired. Want to read a story with me?”

With a nod, he clambers to his feet before he heaves himself onto the couch and pats the empty cushion beside him. I tuck him into my side and let him open the book. I only make it halfway before he gives me all his weight.

Slowly, I scoop him into my arms and carry him to his room. Once he's tucked into bed, I brush his hair off his face and study him. My chest constricts painfully, but I don't fight the sensation.

He looks so much like Owen; he even does things that remind me of him—the way he purses his lips when he's concentrating, his facial expressions when he's excited. I miss his dad so much, and I'll do everything in my power to make sure this little boy knows how amazing he was.

I'll make sure Santi and Ines have everything they need, Owen. You can count on me, man. I've got this. I promise.

Eventually, I force myself to retreat. In the living room, I find Ines sitting on the edge of the couch, holding a half-eaten croissant.

“I'm glad I brought more than one,” I tease as I sit beside her.

“Thank you. This bakery has the best in New York.” She holds the pastry out to me. “Wanna try?”

“No, that's okay. I'm still full. The arroz con pollo was great. Thanks again.”

We're silent for a moment. The living room has been tidied up; Ines put Santi's toys away while I put him to bed.

“You don't have to keep coming by, you know.” Her voice is quiet and soft. “We're okay.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat and peer at her. “I know, but I like seeing Santi. I like spending time with both of you.”

Her dark brown eyes linger on me for a second too long. The air in the room shifts subtly, and suddenly, I'm hit with an awareness. The look on her face is familiar, even if she has never looked at me like that. There's uncertainty there but also a deeper curiosity. A longing.

Unbidden, a chill runs down my spine.

She's grieving, still recovering from a loss that tore her life apart. Owen's death wrecked me. I can't imagine the pain she feels. That's why I'm here. That's why I keep showing up for her and Santi.

“Um,” I hedge, discomfort coiling in my gut, “if you don't want me⁠—”

“No, no, no.” She places her hand on my knee. “I love having you here. I love watching you play with Santi. And I'm grateful. Some days, it feels like you're the only one who still cares. All I meant was…I don't want you to feel obligated to be here. I don't want to be a burden.”

“Never.” I duck so our eyes are level. “You and Santi are my family, and I'd move mountains for my family.”

She takes her hand off my knee and sits back, the lines on her face smoothing out.

With a harsh exhale, I stand. “I should get going. I don't want to monopolize your time.” I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans. “I'll visit next week, but if you need anything⁠—”

“Then I'll call you.” She nods. “Thank you so much for coming.”

I pat her on the shoulder and head for the door, desperate for fresh air.

My phone has just connected to the Bluetooth in my car when Mom flashes on the screen. Warmth spreads through me, calming my racing heart.

I hit Accept on the display and sit back. “Hey, Mom.”

Like I expect, she launches straight into updates from home. Dad's knee is acting up after he tried to fix a pipe under the sink. She ended up calling a plumber, who had the issue fixed in less than ten minutes, though it left my father's ego bruised.

“I saw photos of you on a couple of blogs. They say you're dating a Serbian supermodel. Is it true?”

Frustration swirls inside me. “Do you really think I have any desire to date? Mom, I'm still not okay after what happened to Owen, and no one deserves a partner with a shit ton of issues to work through.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked.” She sighs. “How are you holding up? And please be honest.”

“Today has been good.” I rest my head back against the seat and give her a brief overview of my day. I don't go into detail about my visit with Ines and Santi, though. I never do. They feel sacred, like penance, maybe. And I avoid mentioning Riley.

Dammit. Riley. Once again, I feel like an idiot for my suggestion. I quickly divert the conversation back to Mom. I don't want to worry my parents, so they don't know just how bad things are for me, how desperate I am to get my life back.

Once I've ended the call, I notice two new text notifications, both from Riley.

Sink or swim, dude.

I tap the screen and read her messages. Then reread them. Holy shit! She actually agreed. A slow smile creeps across my face, and my pulse picks up, making it feel as if my insides are vibrating.

Why are you smiling, though?

I shift into drive and eye myself in the mirror. “I don't know.”

But it's impossible not to.

8

this is a terrible idea

Riley

Eyes glued to my reflection, I apply my mascara. This dramatic winged eyeliner is a bit bold for me, but I want to try something different so I can do something different later tonight—starting with my makeup and this backless black sequin minidress.

It definitely has nothing to do with Hayden.

That's what I keep telling myself. If only I could believe it.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. When my sister's name appears, I pick it up and swipe my thumb across the screen. She called earlier, while she and Hudson were shopping, but I knew she would call again.

“Hey.” I sit on the edge of my bed, my eyes drifting to the blue hydrangeas in the vase on my nightstand.

“Hey, Ry.” Piper breaks into a grin then whistles. “You look stunning.”

I toss my hair over my shoulder and wink at her. “Thank you. I'm glad you like it.”

“I love it. The makeup and the blue highlights make your eyes pop. And I love the lipstick.”

My cheeks heat at the praise. This shade is one of my favorites, a peachy pink color.

Her dark brown eyes sparkle as she tilts her head. “Are you sure it's just you and Nastya going out tonight?”

“Yup. It's just a fun night out. I need to let loose a little. Grant will pick us up. It's all good.”

Piper nods and doesn't dig for more. I trust her with anything, but I'm so embarrassed about how shitty my dating life has been that I stopped sharing those kinds of details with her a long time ago. Occasionally, she'll try to interrogate me, but she's typically good at giving me space. She knows I'll come to her when I'm ready.

“What are you wearing?” she asks. “This makeup calls for something super-hot.”

I stand and set my phone on the nightstand before I twirl around.

“Wow!”

Phone in hand, I wander back to my vanity. “What's the verdict?”

“Was my reaction not good enough?” She chuckles. “You are enchanting. That dress looks incredible on you. And those shimmery details? I fucking love it. Where are you going? Somewhere fancy?”

“Nope. Just a new club downtown.”

My niece pops into the frame wearing a big smile. She and I may not be related by blood, but Piper loves Story like she's her own, and I adore her just as much.

“Hey, Ry!” She waves. “Your makeup is fabulous.”

“Aww, thanks for the confidence boost, you two.”

“We're just stating the obvious.” Story fixes her tight, neat bun.

“You think it's okay for dancing? And maybe some poor choices?”

“You never make poor choices,” Piper says. Story nods.

An image of Hayden pops into my head. If only they knew what I agreed to.

“Are you heading to rehearsal?” I ask Story.

With a dramatic sigh, she puts her head on Piper's shoulder. “Yeah. We're working on Giselle right now. My legs are actually dying.”

Affection and pride fill me. “You'll survive. You're built for the stage, baby girl. Any company would be happy to have you.”

“A company would be great…” A pinkish hue creeps onto Story's cheeks. “But I don't have much confidence. Maybe I'd believe you if I got accepted into the New York School of Performing Arts.”

Being accepted into a ballet company like the one she's auditioning for would be great for her career. Her desire to follow in my footsteps is incredibly cute. The bond we built when my sister worked as Story's nanny nine years ago has only grown stronger with each passing year.

The girl lives and breathes ballet. She wants to dance on the biggest stages in the world, and she's ambitious enough to make her dreams a reality.

She'd never give up like I did.

The moment the thought settles, my body deflates. This is not the fucking time for regrets.

With a deep breath in, I force myself to smile. “I better get going, girls. I don't want to keep Nastya waiting.”

“Be safe,” my sister says, “and shoot me a text once you're home.”

“I promise I will.”

Once I hang up, I shake off the sudden bout of negativity then slip into my heels and give my reflection one last look. This look might be my best in a while. Something good is going to happen tonight. I can feel it.

My phone buzzes, and a picture of Hayden with Story and Hudson appears on the screen. My heart thunders in my chest as my hands go clammy. This reaction isn't new, and I don't think I'll ever get used to it—and that's exactly why I need to move on. I need to forget about Hayden, but how can I when our lives are so intertwined?

I take a deep breath and swipe to answer. “Hi.”

“I'm downstairs.” His husky voice in my ear causes goose bumps to erupt all over my body.

“I'll be there in five.”

“Okay.”

I end the call and look myself over again in the mirror. Piper and Story are right—I look great.

Despite my best efforts, I can't help but wonder if Hayden will notice.

Hayden is leaning against his Land Rover, dressed in a black tee and ripped black jeans. With his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and tattoos, he reminds me of a bodyguard rather than an A-list celebrity.

My heels click loudly on the pavement as I approach, catching his attention. He shifts to face me, and his dark green eyes move slowly over my body, lingering on my cleavage and then my legs. He doesn't rush his scrutiny, and it brings heat to my cheeks. I like the way his attention feels. It's like a gentle caress, but it also sets my skin on fire.

That sensation is snuffed out quickly, because when he snaps his gaze back to my face, his expression is nothing but friendly. No heat, no interest.

My stomach clenches, and a wave of nausea crashes into me. Message received. Even with my bright makeup and this sexy dress, he only sees me as his best friend's little sister.

Stop it, Riley. You agreed to this to help him. Period.

“Hi.” I smooth my sweaty palms down my dress. “Sorry if I made you wait.”

“That's okay.” He grins and pushes off the car. “Ready to go?”

“Sure.”

He opens the passenger door for me. I climb in and keep my focus fixed out the windshield as I put my seat belt on.

“Have you been to this place before?” he asks as he eases into the driver's seat.

“Nastya chose it.” I fiddle with my ring. “She and her husband have been there.”

“Will he be joining us?”

I shake my head. “Tonight was supposed to be a girls' night.”

He snorts. “Sorry for tagging along. I hope I didn't ruin your plans.”

“You didn't. Don't worry about it.”

“Ry?”

I peer over at him, teeth digging into my bottom lip.

“You look incredible,” he murmurs, his green irises darker than usual. “The guys at the club will be dying for a chance with you.”

“Thanks.” I nod.

He's just being polite, that's all.

I entwine my fingers and study the road. With every second that passes on our way to the club, I regret not listening to Nastya. This is a terrible idea.

Nastya is already waiting inside. I expected to have to wait a while to get in, considering the club is new. I should have known better with Hayden Hale at my side.

My best friend is wearing a short green dress, her red hair cascading over her shoulders. The grin she gives me sets my body at ease, like always.

“You made me wait,” she scolds me as I plant a kiss on her cheek. With her hands on my upper arms, she takes a step back and looks me over. “But in this outfit? I can't even be mad at you. You are so beautiful.”

Her eyes slide to Hayden, and her expression cools.

“Hi.” He nods, stepping in so close, his shoulder brushes mine. “Sorry we're late.”

“Uh-huh.” She folds her arms over her chest and eyes him up and down. “Are you really going to screen Ry's dates?”

“Yes.” His lips twitch. “I always keep my promises.”

“What if people recognize you?” She arches a brow.

“This place is packed. No one will pay me any attention.” He shrugs. “And even if they do, I'll make sure they don't bother you. It's on me to deal with unwanted attention.” He places his hand on the small of my exposed back.

A jolt of electricity arcs through me. It's so strong, I worry it shocked my heart out of rhythm.

As if he could feel it too, he quickly drops his hand. “Ready for drinks? I've been told they're on me.”

I give him a smile. If I want to have fun tonight, I have to stop overthinking everything.

We sit at the table Nastya reserved near the dance floor and order a round of tequila shots. The server returns with them quickly, surreptitiously glancing at Hade. Looks like we have him to thank for the prompt service. Another perk of being famous, I guess.

Nastya holds up her shot glass. “To poor decisions.”

I lift mine as well and amend the toast. “To better judgment.”

Hayden raises his bottle of water and winks at me. “Cheers.”

The pulsing E.D.M envelops me quickly, the thunderous bass reverberating deliciously through my body, loosening up my muscles.

Nastya grabs my hand. “Come on. Let's dance.”

“Will you be okay on your own?” I ask Hade as I stand.

He nods. “Go. I'm here to observe. If you need anything, just wave, and I'll join you.”

Nastya pulls me to the dance floor, and when we're surrounded by the throng of people, I let my body take over. We lose ourselves in the music. We laugh, we spin, we joke. It feels good to move, to turn off my brain. For several songs in a row, I do nothing but exist.

The first man to approach is dressed in a white shirt and black pants. I turn him down quickly, easily. He reminds me too much of the finance guy.

When we make our way back to the table, my already elevated heart rate increases even more.

Hayden is still here. It surprises me, actually. I figured he'd be bored after a couple of songs. He's still alone, so maybe the staff has been discreet about his presence. He looks relaxed, but I can't tell whether it's genuine or whether he's putting up a front.

Has he been out since Owen died? Why didn't I ask? The club atmosphere is probably overwhelming to someone who's grieving.

“Don't want to join us?” I ask him while we wait for another round of shots.

“I'm good.” He leans closer so I can hear him over the music. “Though I almost stepped in when the white-collar asshole approached you. Good job sending him packing.”

I snort. “What makes you think he's an asshole? You didn't even⁠—”

“You were the third girl he's approached since we've been here. He isn't looking for anything serious.”

I'm speechless. His words make heat radiate through my chest. He was keeping an eye on me.

“Finally, our shots!” Nastya's voice brings me back to reality.

Thank God. I need a drink.

I'm not really a lightweight, but within minutes of hitting the dance floor again, the alcohol goes to my head. I blame it on my lack of sleep and the nerves that have plagued me since I agreed to let Hayden come with us.

I keep my pinkie curled around Nastya's when a man approaches and chats me up.

His name is Andrew, and he seems genuine, unlike the other guys who've tried to talk to me tonight. Cute smile, dark blue eyes—a plus, given my history with green-eyed men—and chestnut hair. He's confident but not pushy, and he's easy on the eyes. So far, he checks all my boxes.

Andrew makes some joke about racehorses. It's silly, and there's no way I'll remember it tomorrow, but for now, it feels good to laugh. Though as I scan the space and my attention catches on our table, my mood plummets. My overheated body suddenly goes cold, as if I've been doused with a bucket of ice water.

Hayden is still at the table, but he's no longer alone. The woman sitting beside him has shiny blonde hair, red lipstick, and impressively long legs. They talk and laugh, clearly at ease with each other—so much so that she's got a hand on his thigh, and he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he leans in.

The music hasn't changed, nor has the crush of bodies around me. Yet, my world has stilled.

I blow out a breath and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, trying to recenter myself. He suggested screening guys to give me his perspective, but I didn't agree to screen women for him. I agreed to his plan with the hope it would distract him from his grief, even though I knew his presence here could cost me.

But it seems looking after me hasn't been enough of a distraction—though the blonde might be.

Tears prickle the backs of my eyes. My not-so-sober state isn't helping.

I blink rapidly and focus on Andrew, fighting back the hurt.

I was indeed delusional, like Nastya said. I would've said no to even the most perfect of men if it meant Hayden Hale would finally notice me.

That flicker of hope I've been holding on to, that I've hidden under layers of denial and logic, has officially been extinguished.

He told me he was here for me, that he didn't want to meet anyone. And yet…here he is.

I give Andrew a sad smile. I don't want to lead him on, so when he asks for my number, I'll try to let him down easy. I just don't want to fall apart in the middle of the club.

What I need is to focus on myself.

And to stop hoping Hade will ever see me as a grown woman.

9

where's riley?

Hayden

“Can you imagine? He dropped to the floor and did some move he calls the caterpillar.” Head thrown back, Zoe laughs.

She's tall and fit, with a pair of legs that have held my attention since the moment she asked if she could join me. I haven't been discreet, and she's made a point of showing them off, shifting and crossing one leg over the other. If she moves much more, her skirt will ride up so high, I'll know the color of her underwear.

Can't say I'd mind.

“What did you do?” I ask.

She bites her red-painted lip. “I laughed.” A tiny shrug follows. “I can't imagine a world in which I'd agree to go on a date with him after he did all that in front of my friends.”

Her self-confidence is admirable, though she sounds a lot more snobbish than the women I usually gravitate toward.

“For sure.” I nod.

She sidled up to the table just after a third guy approached Riley. Yet another one I wasn't impressed with. When Zoe asked if I was Hayden Hale, I considered denying it, but I'd been here, watching Riley flirt with other men for over an hour, and I was getting pissed. So, needing a distraction, I said yes.

When Zoe asked if she could join me, I said yes again. The moment her ass hit the booth, she started gushing about my music, our shows, her favorite Sabotage songs. She eagerly explained why the lyrics from “Flawless”—the song I wrote for Piper, to earn her forgiveness—speak to her. She's been to several of our shows, including the one in L.A.

She stroked my ego by fangirling, but more than that, our interaction reminded me of when life was so much easier. She knows the Hade I used to be: the lead singer of Sabotage, the guy who always knew how to have fun. She doesn't know the shell of a person I've turned into lately. This man who can't write or play, who prefers solitude.

Zoe isn't interested in Hayden Hale, not really. She wants Hade, the lead singer of Sabotage.

And I like it.

She leans in and puts a hand on my arm. “Dance with me,” she tells me.

I only hesitate for a moment. When she grasps my wrist, the decision is easy. I didn't come here to mope, after all.

Strobe lights flash and strong basslines encircle us as she weaves through the throng of people, her hand clutching mine. Sweat and perfume and alcohol seep into me, reminding me of nights out after shows. I wasn't always up for clubbing, but when I was, Owen was right there beside me. He was always ready for a good time, and I loved him for that.

Damn. This is not the right fucking place to be hit by the double Gs: grief and guilt. They can wait till I'm home.

Zoe stops, turns around, and presses her back to my chest. I place my hands on her hips. It's like a reflex, no more than that. Despite the way I enjoyed her flirting, I feel nothing.

So, I close my eyes and try to lose myself in her. In the moment. In the rhythm of the E.D.M. In the heat of the packed dance floor.

I've barely found peace before “The Ultimatum” plays.

Memories assault me, drowning me, pummeling me with reminders of all my poor decisions. Nine years ago, when I found out Piper was hooking up with my brother, I forced her to do something she wasn't ready to do, and I nearly destroyed our friendship. Like a butterfly effect, my ultimatum drove her away, and I lost my muse. I couldn't write a fucking song until she finally forgave me. I was an idiot, and I almost lost my best friend because of it.

The memories dissipate, replaced with newer concerns. What would she do if she found out I promised her little sister that I'd look after her, only to brood when men approached her? What would she think if she knew I promised Riley I wasn't here to meet anyone, and then, rather than helping her like I said I would, I spent the night flirting with this woman?

I'm almost thirty, but I'm acting as childishly as I did nine years ago. The guilt brewing in the back of my mind spreads through me quickly, making my chest feel tight.

Sucking in a painful breath, I scan the crowd, looking for Riley. I need to know she's okay. The whole reason I'm here is for her. When I don't see her shimmering black minidress, I search for Nastya. Where are they?

Panic rises within me until I finally find them.

Thankfully, they're not too far away.

The relief that fact brings is dashed when I catch sight of Riley's face. Her eyes are glassy, her lips tipped up in a loose smile. I've seen her like this several times since her senior year in high school, when she'd call me to pick her up from a party. She's drunk.

What's worse? She's not alone. Yes, Nastya is close by, watching cautiously, but Riley's with a man. One I don't recognize. And they're dancing too fucking close.

Where did he even come from?

The last time I checked, she was talking to a guy in a white shirt. This one is covered in tats. His black tee is ready to burst at the seams, and he's wearing black leather pants.

Who wears leather pants to a club in fucking May?

He curls his arm around her waist and pulls her to him, and my blood simmers. The way she laughs, her hand on his chest, playfully pushing him away, only makes my irritation grow. In response, he tightens his hold, keeping his body moving with hers.

One glance at Nastya has the alarm bells in my head going off. With how she's scowling, Riley's new dance partner is on her shit list. He's on mine too.

He's got her plastered to him, leaving no space between their bodies. This whole situation feels off, but I can't put my finger on why.

My stomach roils and my skin crawls, though maybe it's guilt. Maybe this guy isn't the issue. Maybe I am. I came here for her, yet I gave up so damn easily and allowed myself to be distracted by Zoe.

Regardless, I can't stand the way this guy is touching Ry. I want his hands off her, right fucking now.

Instead of focusing on Zoe, who's grinding her ass on my groin, I watch Riley. Slowly, I shift, moving closer to her. I need to make sure she's okay. At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

You sure it's not because you're jealous?

My inner voice is my worst enemy.

“God, I love this song,” Zoe's high-pitched voice drifts to me over the music. She turns and drapes her arms over my shoulders, bringing her face close to mine. “Having fun?”

Yup. A shitload.

With a distracted nod, I stare over her shoulder. Instantly, the set of blue eyes I've known forever locks on me, and Riley's expression morphs into a scowl. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't the anger radiating from her. When she looks away as if she can't bear to look at me, my gut lurches.

Wow. Why does it hurt so much?

“How long are you planning to stay?” Zoe asks, bringing her mouth to my ear.

“I haven't decided yet.”

“Could I convince you to leave with me?”

She sucks my earlobe into her mouth, and I shudder. It's not a reaction I've ever had in the company of a hot girl, but I'm too fucked up to overthink it. All I want is to pull Riley away from that guy.

Before I can come up with an excuse for Zoe and storm over to Riley, the dude in the leather pants lunges in and kisses her. It's not graceful or smooth. It's not the way a man eases in to explore a woman he's connected to. No, it's hard and fast, and he grinds his hips against her in a disgusting move, like he's rubbing his erection over her body.

No longer capable of pretending to be unfazed, I drop my hands from Zoe's hips and take a step back.

Eyebrows pulled together, she peers up at me. “Is something wrong?”

“I need to take care of something. Sorry.”

Without waiting for a response, I skirt around her. As I head toward Riley, a hundred scenarios play in my mind. I'm steps from them when she pushes the guy using all her strength. Her eyes are wide, her jaw unhinged in shock.

The dude clutches at her wrist, but she swats his hand away. Her gaze darts toward Nastya, who's already stepping up to her.

Instead of backing off, the jackass puffs up and steps in close, looming over them.

“Shit.”

In two strides, I'm beside him. I gently clasp Riley's wrist, desperate to take her away from here so I can ensure this asshole won't bother her again.

But rather than step closer to me, she jerks back. Flattening her lips, she folds her arms over her chest and glares…at me. Really?

“C'mon, let's get back to our table,” I insist.

She lifts her chin. “No.”

The guy whirls my way. “Who the hell—” His eyes bulge as recognition hits. “No way. You're Hayden Hale! I fucking love your music,” he slurs.

“Thanks.” I nod. Then, calmly, because I hate being rude to my fans, I say, “Sorry, she's coming with me. She's my best friend's little⁠—”

“For fuck's sake!” Riley drops her arms and stomps away as best she can in heels.

I look at Nastya, thinking she'll clue me in on what just happened. Instead, she scoffs and shakes her head, as if I've disappointed her. She follows Ry, and I take off too, hot on her heels.

Riley has always been a fun, friendly drunk. What the fuck has gotten into her?

We catch up to Riley just as she approaches our table. When I call her name, she whips around, her eyes blazing with heat and her nostrils flaring. She's pissed. At me.

She crosses her arms again, her shoulders pulled back. “Why did you do that? I didn't ask you to come over.”

“You pushed him away. You looked uncomfortable.” Frowning, I take a careful step closer. “Did you really expect me not to react?”

“Honestly, yeah. That's what you've done all night.”

I can't fucking admit how much I hate seeing her with other men, so I go for the shittiest explanation ever. “Because nothing you were doing demanded my attention.”

“Or because you didn't care.” She jabs me with one finger. “Next time? Fuck off. I can handle myself.”

“You didn't look like you could.” The words are out before I can stop them. I've clearly got a death wish.

“Unbelievable!” She throws her hands in the air.

Nastya steps between us. “Time-out.” She glances at me then quickly focuses on Riley. “You need fresh air. Let's go.” She puts her arm around Riley's waist and steers her toward the exit.

I should stay behind, wait for them here, but I can't fight the urge to follow them. Outside, they quickly turn left, out of my line of sight.

The chilly night air hits hard. It's a relief after the heat of the club, but the tension doesn't leave my shoulders. I turn to join them, but Riley's next words make me freeze.

“You were right. I shouldn't have let him come with us.”

My insides twist into a painful knot. I knew this was a bad idea.

“Ry,” Nastya says softly.

“I wanted to help him. I thought the distraction would be good for him, but I'm a fool,” she breathes. “Because deep down, I thought this might be the night things change. That he would finally notice me.” She sniffles, her blonde hair a curtain hiding her face. “But it's time to admit he will always see me as a kid. That's all I'll ever be to him.”

Her voice cracks on that last sentence, and it punches a hole straight through me.

Suddenly, the weight on my shoulders is unbearable.

Because I don't know what I'm even doing anymore.

How the hell have I never noticed?

10

i'm sorry

Hayden

I stumble back inside the club before Riley and Nastya see me. The music hasn't changed, yet the beat feels different. Soulless. Like me. Memories assault me, swirling in my head. I need a moment to fucking breathe.

Shoulders tense and neck stiff, I make a beeline for the restroom. I hustle to the sink farthest from the door, silently thankful I'm the only one here, and place my hands on the countertop. The man looking back at me in the mirror is almost unrecognizable.

I look like shit, and I fucking hate myself. I have a tendency to hurt those who care about me, and here I am, doing it again. Piper was first, then Owen, now Riley.

She liked me.

Since she was a damn kid. Since fucking forever, probably. And I'm the asshole who used her to distract myself, who couldn't even keep my promise.

Because I came to help her, yet I sat across the crowded club when I was supposed to be screening her options.

I am a condescending jerk.

Eyes closed, I focus on breathing. This is a fucking disaster. Embarrassment mixes with self-loathing. For months, Riley has shown up for me, stopping in to check on me when my family was worried, sitting with me when it felt like I was dying.

She never asked for anything in return, never said no to Hunter or Piper when they asked her to make sure I was okay. And instead of being grateful, I acted like she meant nothing to me.

News flash, Hayden Hale—this has been a long time coming. You built a wall to keep her out when you noticed how stunning she was, and now that's come back to bite you in the ass. You became so detached, you couldn't see how she felt about you.

A fucking coward.

I splash cold water on my face and run my still-wet hand through my hair in hopes it will miraculously refresh my brain. The effort is mostly in vain, but I need to pull myself together and apologize.

Fuck, I would give anything to talk to Owen. He would've scolded me for being an ignorant ass, but he also would've known what to do.

Once my hands are dry, I head back to our table, racking my brain for the best way to approach this conversation. I used to be so good with words, not only with my lyrics but with conversations too, yet I haven't written a single lyric since I found Owen in his hotel room.

And tonight, my brain is continuing to betray me. How do I apologize for making a woman who has always been there for me feel like an afterthought, a tool to be used in my effort to distract myself?

Halfway down the dark hall back into the bar, Zoe appears, halting me in my tracks. She smiles, though there are questions in her eyes as she takes me in. Her confidence and posture scream she's used to getting what she wants. Like this, with her chin lifted and her chest pushed out, her cleavage almost in my face, I'm suddenly turned off. I may have fleetingly entertained the idea of hooking up with her earlier, but now, I need to put space between us. All I want is to talk to Riley, to make her understand she's not an afterthought.

“There you are,” Zoe says, touching my arm like she did at the table. “I thought maybe you'd left. Never been happier to be wrong.”

I offer a faint smile. It's all I can muster right now. “Sorry. Just needed a minute.”

She giggles, her laughter tinkling. “Always so mysterious, on and off the stage.”

I don't comment on that. She doesn't know me—not as Hade, the lead singer of Sabotage, not as Hayden Hale, disaster personified. The Hade she thinks she knows is nothing but an image, a guy on tour posters, in music videos, performing on stage. I'm not that man anymore. I'm not sure I ever will be again.

“Wanna get out of here?” She bats her lashes. “I'd love to finish our conversation somewhere quieter. Your lyrics have helped me through so many bad days, and I'd do anything for a chance to get to know you better.”

The suggestion in her tone only brings a bitter taste to my mouth.

“That's nice to hear.” I nod. “I really appreciate it.”

Clearly not sensing the shift in the mood, she steps closer. “What do you think? Want to head out?”

“Look, Zoe,” I say, trying my damnedest to keep my tone appreciative but neutral, “thank you so much for your time. I enjoyed talking to you, but I didn't come here alone. And my friend”—I peer around, searching for Riley but unable to find her—“needs my help.”

“The girl who made a scene in the middle of the dance floor? That's your friend?” She scrunches her nose.

Annoyed by her judgment, I shuffle backward and stuff my hands in my pockets. “Yes. Is there a problem?”

“Wh-what?” She recoils, her face paling, like she's realizing her words don't sit right with me. “No, no. I just…I don't know why I thought you were here alone.” She lets out a breathy laugh. “You're Hayden Hale, after all.”

“Yeah, I am.” I scan the crowd over her shoulder again, and this time, I find Riley. Thank fuck. But she and Nastya are heading toward the door. “Sorry. I should get going.”

Without another word to Zoe, I dart around her, my legs eating up the distance between Riley and me.

Ahead, Riley leans into Nastya heavily, her steps unsteady. A man walks past her, bumping into her, and she sways so violently, I think she's going to fall on her ass. Before I can catch up, Nastya steadies her, and they continue moving.

Outside, with fewer people crowding the space, I finally catch up. “Ry?” I call out, eager to apologize for ruining her night, for not keeping my word, and especially for hurting her.

Her body goes rigid at the sound of her name, but she doesn't stop. Fuck.

Nastya peers back at me, the look on her face so loaded with disappointment, it makes me wish I could fucking disappear into the pavement. Hand tight around Riley's elbow, she guides her to a black S.U.V parked at the curb. Once Ry's in the back seat, her best friend closes the door and turns to me.

“Why are you here?”

“I-I wanted to explain. To apologize.”

“Since you haven't gotten the hint, I'll spell it out for you. She doesn't want to talk to you,” Nastya snaps. “And I don't blame her.”

“I didn't mean⁠—”

“Oh, I think you did.” If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under by now. “You didn't come here for her. You came here for yourself, only to turn around and make her feel invisible. And the icing on the cake? When you do notice her, you treat her like she needs a babysitter.” She purses her lips and looks me up and down. “She's been your babysitter for months now, and you don't even appreciate her.”

Shame washes over me. Throat tight, I rub a hand over my face. “I appreciate her,” I say hoarsely. “I do.”

“You have a pretty shitty way of showing it.” She tsks. “Do better, Hayden. She's told me enough about you to know you're not a bad guy, and I'm truly sorry for what you're going through. Grief can be a bitch. It can sneak up on you when you least expect it. But tonight, you were stupid and entitled. Ry doesn't deserve it.”

I nod, head lowered. “I'll do better. I'll make things right.”

With a sigh, she opens the passenger door. “Grant and I will take her home. You don't need to worry about it.”

With a deep breath in, I force myself to hold her gaze. “Thank you.”

She nods and climbs inside, and in a moment, the car is gone.

Fuck.

The weekend was awful. I barely ate. I barely fucking moved. I was consumed with regret, my every thought about Riley.

I never meant to hurt her, but that doesn't change the fact that I did. If I'd told Piper what happened when she called on Saturday evening, she probably would've found a way to strangle me through the phone.

I need to fix it.

So, on Monday morning, I wait in the hallway of the studio as a dozen or so little girls jump around Riley, frantically waving their hands. With efficiency, she passes out lollipops. Warmth blooms in my chest at the sight, though it dies as quickly as it came. She might send me packing instead of hearing me out.

Once the class has been dismissed and Riley is alone, I knock lightly on the open door.

She's sitting on the floor near the barre, pulling a pink sweatshirt over her black tank top. Her hair's messy, covering her shoulders in soft waves. No makeup. It might be my imagination, but her usual glow has dimmed, and fuck, if it doesn't feel like a sucker punch.

I cross the threshold, and when she spots me, she quickly scrambles to her feet.

Shit, I messed up so fucking bad.

“Hey,” I say, approaching her slowly. “Sorry for barging in.”

“Hi. That's okay.” She brushes her hands over her thighs. “Did you need something?”

“I wanted to apologize. For Friday.” I step closer and duck, catching her attention. “I said I'd be there for you, and I wasn't. I was selfish, and that wasn't fair to you.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, hugging herself tightly. “It's fine. You told me you wanted a distraction, and the club gave you exactly that.”

“That's not what I meant to do.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs. “But it felt like that.”

The words sit on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them down. Given the way she's avoiding eye contact, admitting I heard her talking about her crush on me wouldn't go over well.

“Ry—”

Jaw clenching, she pulls her shoulders back. “I need some space, if that's okay with you.”

I expected her to send me packing or maybe yell at me. Instead, she's subdued, distant. That might be worse. A wave of regret washes over me once again. “Of course. I understand.”

Exhaling, she focuses on me. “Bye, Hade.”

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. “See you.”

With that, I turn on my heel and leave. What if she never forgives me?

I'm brewing coffee the next morning when my phone rings. My heart thumps when Piper's name flashes across the screen. She never calls this early without a reason.

“Hey, Pip,” I greet her.

“Hi.” The concern in her voice sends shivers down my spine.

“What's wrong?”

“I can't get ahold of Ry. I've been calling and texting her all morning, and she's not answering.”

Panic ignites inside me. With one hand balled into a fist, I dig my nails into my flesh. “Did she go out last night?”

“No. She was home,” Piper counters. “But an apartment on the floor above hers caught fire.”

A jolt of adrenaline shoots through my system. “Is she okay?”

“She was when I talked to her in the middle of the night.” Piper sniffles. “But now she's not answering, Hade. God, I'm so worried about her.”

“I'll go check on her,” I say, heading to my bedroom. She might've told me she needed some space, but today, I'm going to ignore her wishes. “I'll call you as soon as I get to her place.”

“Thank you. Thank you so, so much.”

11

a very confident color

Riley

“You know what the worst part is?” I straighten and wipe the sweat from my forehead. “My apartment smells like I tried to roast a tire in the fucking oven.”

The smell inside my apartment is acrid and inescapable. Burnt plastic, scorched drywall, and an ugly chemical tang coats my nostrils, making it harder to breathe. The air is thick, even with the windows open. Already, the smoke has settled deep into the walls, into the furniture, even into my clothes.

In the midst of the chaos, I almost forgot to take my levothyroxine. The last thing I need after all this is to piss off my thyroid.

“Maybe it would've been better if your apartment had burned too. At least then, you'd get the insurance payout.” Nastya doesn't look up from mopping the floor. “Instead, we've got pruned fingers from playing Cinderella.”

“That isn't helpful at all.”

With a bark of a laugh, she looks up. “I'm staying true to myself.” She dunks the mop in the bucket then lifts it, squeezing out dirty water. “And you know nine times out of ten, I'm right.”

“But there's still that one situation when you aren't,” I tease her, and she flips me off. “Even if you don't want to admit you can be wrong on occasion.”

“Nah, I have nothing against the truth.” She drags the mop across the floor. “Maybe I can seem mean sometimes, but it's not because I want to offend people. I'd just prefer to be honest rather than falsely positive, and I refuse to lie to a person's face just to make them feel better in the moment. It's probably a cultural thing.

My friends and family are like that too. It never bothers me because they have my best interests at heart, and I treat them the same way.”

In school, some of our classmates were quick to call Nastya a stuck-up bitch because she never shied away from stating her opinion instead of sugarcoating the truth or telling straight-up lies.

“I've always admired how honest you are, and I know you have my back.” I wink at her. “Even though I don't always want to listen to you.”

She points at me. “More often than I'd like, but we're working on it.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Nose scrunched, she goes back to mopping. “The longer I'm here, the more it feels like the fire was in your apartment, not upstairs. The smell is outrageous.”

With a sigh, I sweep some soot off the shelf. “I was hoping for a couple of relaxing days. Instead, I got smoke and a smell that probably won't go away for weeks.”

Nastya walks to the open window, leans over the window frame, and inhales. “God, I miss fresh air.”

I laugh, though I can't say I feel any joy. Not only because of the fire, but because my damn thoughts have been spiraling nonstop since Friday night.

The damn smile Hayden gave that blonde.

Handling me like a child then almost calling me his best friend's little sister.

Lips pursed, I scrub the shelf harder. The memories of that night resurface, and my blood boils. Admittedly, some of them are blurry, but the pain of finally admitting to myself that he'll never see me as anything but Piper's sister lingers in my heart.

But I can't even be mad at him, not really. He never gave me false hope. He never led me on. My feelings are a hundred percent unrequited.

When he proposed his ridiculous plan, it really was because he needed a distraction from his grief. Regardless of what I hoped for, there was no underlying motivation.

The knock on the door snaps me out of my doom spiral.

“I swear, if it's that nosy old lady from 31B again…” Nastya hisses, marching across the room.

I pause my scrubbing, and when a familiar voice rumbles, “Hi there,” I'm ready to bolt.

Of course it's Hade.

He's standing in the hallway, wearing a black tee that makes him look too damn good, his expression frustratingly calm, like I didn't ask him for space just yesterday.

Frowning, I cross my arms. “What are you doing here?”

Hands in his pockets, he steps inside. “Pip called. Said she's been calling and texting but hasn't heard from you. She's worried.”

Shit. My phone must still be on Do Not Disturb.

I rub my temples. “We've been cleaning. Trying to get rid of this goddamn smell.”

“The whole building stinks.” He scans my face. “You okay?”

In response, I cough. The timing couldn't be worse. “It'll take a few days to get it all done, but I'm okay.”

“You know you can't stay here, right?”

Brows pinched, I assess him. “Where else would I stay?”

“Breathing all this in can't be healthy.”

Nastya watches me, chewing her cheek, the wheels turning in her head.

She's going to side with him, isn't she?

“Actually, I think Hade is right,” she says, confirming my suspicion. “All this soot in the air can't be good for your lungs.”

“And where would I go?” I ask her.

“You can stay at my place,” Hayden says before my best friend can answer. “I have plenty of space.”

My heart lurches. Is he out of his mind? I can't stay at his penthouse. I can't be in such close proximity to him.

“Maybe I can stay at yours?” I peer at Nastya, silently begging her to agree.

“Sorry, Ry. My mom and Ksyusha will be here on Thursday.”

I blink. Shit. I knew her family was visiting. The lack of sleep and the stress of dealing with my ruined things are scrambling my brain.

“As much as I mean it when I tell you you're always welcome, our place is already going to be crowded.” She smiles apologetically. “I think you should take him up on his offer.”

I give her an Are you for real? look, but she only arches an eyebrow, as if challenging me to argue. Instead, I huff and toss my rag onto the shelf. She's backed me into a corner.

“You'd have your own room, and my place is closer to the studio. It's a win all around,” Hayden chimes in. “And I'll feel better knowing you're safe and won't be breathing in fumes and soot. I'm sure our family will feel the same.”

Our family. The phrase almost makes me gag. I don't want him to be my family, not in the sense he's implying.

Staying here will surely be bad for my health, but staying with Hayden will be bad for my heart. Maybe exposure therapy will do me some good. Maybe seeing him day after day, flaws and all, will help me let go.

I take a deep breath and instantly regret it. Now my lungs are full of soot and God knows what else.

With my face buried in the crook of my elbow, I cough. Then, straightening, I zero in on Hayden. “Okay. Thank you for offering.” I scan the dingy room. “I'll find someone to come clean. That way, I won't be abusing your hospitality for longer than a few days.”

“You're welcome to stay for as long as you need.” He gives me a cheeky smile. “Do you need my help with anything?”

“Could you take out the trash? Nastya can help me pack.”

“Okay.” He dips his chin. “I'll wait in my car, give you some space. Call when you're done packing, and I'll help you bring your stuff down.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turns on his heel and walks out. When it's just Nastya and me, I sag against the wall, my head hanging low.

“This will be a disaster,” I mutter.

She steps in front of me and puts her hand on my shoulder. “This is the best option for now. If you need to escape, you can hang out with my mom and sister and me.”

“You're right.” I meet her eyes. “Just…it's going to be hard to stay with him while I'm trying to get over my crush.”

“It'll probably only take a couple of days once you're there. I'd bet anything he leaves his dirty laundry on the floor and the toilet seat up.”

With a laugh, I shake my head. “I hope you're right. My poor heart can't keep taking hits when it comes to him.”

Rather than call Hayden, we bring my things down ourselves. When he sees us, he scowls and hops out of the driver's seat. I ignore him, tossing my things into the back of his S.U.V and reminding myself I am in control of this situation, no matter how bizarre it seems.

Before I climb into his car, Nastya hugs me extra tight and tells me to call her when I need her, even if it's just for a distraction.

And I'm sure as hell I'll need it.

Stepping into Hade's penthouse with my suitcase in tow feels weird. My mouth is dry, my hands clammy. I've been here dozens of times, yet it suddenly feels like unfamiliar territory. Hade's presence only adds to my discomfort. After last Friday, I'm on edge just being around him.

“I'll show you to your room.” He steals my duffel from me and strolls down the hallway.

I follow, willing my nerves to calm and my heartbeat to steady. It's just Hayden, and I won't be here for long. This is a temporary arrangement. I shouldn't let myself get all worked up.

“Here you are.” He eases a door open and steps inside the guest room. His movements are a little disjointed, and if I'm not mistaken, his cheeks are slightly pink. He even fluffs a pillow nervously, like he's uncomfortable too. “I hope you like it.”

It takes everything in me to plaster on a smile. “Thanks. It's lovely.”

The crease between his eyebrows deepens. He opens his mouth and closes it again. Then, with a short nod, he heads out of the room. “I'll leave you to unpack.”

Once the door is closed, I take in the room. It is lovely: white walls, dark mahogany flooring, floor-to-ceiling windows. The king-sized bed in the middle of the room is made up, with dark green throw pillows and a forest green duvet.

I can't help but smile at the small walk-in closet. My apartment isn't much bigger than a closet itself. There's a huge mirror in the corner of the room, a desk by the window, and a T.V on the wall.

As much as I want to avoid Hayden, I can't help but be grateful for his kindness.

I put my clothes away, and as I'm hanging up a shirt, there's a soft knock at the door.

“You good in there?” Hayden asks, his voice muffled.

“Yeah, still unpacking.”

The door cracks open, and he peeks in. His blond hair is messy, but in a way that only makes him more handsome. His black tee has disappeared. Now, his muscular chest is bare, showing off his ink.

His dark gray sweatpants hang low on his hips, damn him. He's also barefoot, so his steps are quiet as he moves closer.

My heart has taken off at a gallop, and my brain has glitched. I'm transfixed, so much so that when he steps toward me, I don't step back.

“I figured I'd help you put some stuff away.” He reaches for the last pile of clothes on the bed.

“Wait, I can…” The words die on my lips as he picks up a pile of folded sweatshirts, leaving the vibrant pink vibrator that was tucked underneath on full display.

Fuck me. I'd love for the floor to swallow me whole right about now.

Time slows. A moment of pure, painful silence follows. My cheeks flame. I bite my bottom lip, torn between bursting into tears and laughing it off.

Hayden clears his throat, attention flicking between me and the pink nightmare on the pristine bedspread. “Well, that's…a very confident color.”

I slap my hands to my face. “Oh my God.”

How is it possible a few simple words can make the situation a thousand times worse?

“At least I don't need to be worried you don't have company. And that your company is a better conversationalist than I am.”

Hands dropped, I huff. “Please shut up.”

He laughs, the sound loud and rich. “Ry baby, no shame. If I had to deal with bad dates the way you have, I'd have a drawer full of those things too.”

Despite how mortified I am, a short burst of laughter escapes my mouth. “Glad to know you're entertained.” I swipe the vibrator off the mattress and stuff it back into my duffel bag. Why did I even bring it in the first place? Gah, I'm an idiot!

“Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” He puts my clothes back on the bed, his expression solemn before his lips tip up in a slow smirk. “I'll let you get back to organizing your…collection.”

I pick up a throw pillow and smack the back of his head with it. “Get out.”

Grinning, he backs toward the door. “I'll be in the living room. Come find me so we can order lunch.”

“Uh-huh.” My face is so damn hot. I can only imagine how red it is.

He's almost out the door when he glances back at me. “And don't worry. Your secret's safe with me.”

“Get out!” I hiss.

As he throws his head back and roars with laughter, I stalk into the walk-in closet and close the door.

When the bedroom door clicks shut, I set the clothes on the shelf. Then, I lower myself to the floor. Legs pulled into my chest, I stare at the wall, mortified and amused in equal measure.

Of all the things for him to see, why did it have to be my vibrator?

Clearly, my bad luck extends past dating.

12

reminiscing

Hayden

I'm still grinning when I walk into the kitchen. Riley's reaction when I discovered her vibrator was priceless. Her cheeks turned a deep red, and she abused her bottom lip so badly, it's probably swollen. She was ready to disappear by the time I walked out.

When she was little, she'd instantly go quiet when she saw me. It always weirded me out. I did my best to be nice to her, but she was always shy. Eventually, the quietness morphed into boldness. She'd stand up to me, argue with me about anything and everything. That only pushed me to tease her more, to rile her up until she'd flip me off or cuss me out like a sailor.

At some point, things changed. Maybe it was when Sabotage hit it big. For several years, we did nothing but write, record, perform, and do interviews. I had no choice but to leave my old life behind.

Or maybe it was when I almost lost my best friend, almost ruined my already fragile relationship with my brother. Either way, the dynamic between Riley and me shifted.

Gone was the arguing for the sake of it. Gone were the pranks. She and I weren't close, but we did what we could to support each other. She'd call when she needed a ride home from a party and didn't want Piper to know she'd been out.

One night, she was so wasted, I had to creep into her house with her in my arms. I ended up tucking her into bed, and then I sat on the floor all night, worried she'd choke on her own vomit. I climbed out her window at dawn and never brought the incident up.

The smile the memory elicits drops when her disappointed expression from the night at the club registers in my brain.

He will always see me as a kid. That's all I'll ever be to him.

I rub the back of my neck. The truth is, she hasn't been just Piper's little sister to me since I saw her in the crowd at our concert a few years back. I just forbade myself to look at her.

And she was a fucking vision in her backless little black dress the other night.

Lately, the more time I spend around her, the harder it is to remember why I should keep my distance.

The buzzing of my phone brings me back to reality. I pull it out of my pocket and find my brother's name flashing across the screen. Damn, I've never been more grateful for a distraction.

“Hey, man.” I press the device to my ear. “What's up?”

“Everything's good. Just got home from Hudson's practice. I feel like a squeezed lemon.”

“Why?”

“I swear, every adult I encountered today asked my opinion on who'll win the Champions League final.”

“And who's going to win?” I tease him.

“Fuck off.”

“Wow, Hunter, your professionalism is admirable.”

“I'm professional, alright, when I'm coaching my team and during interviews, but when I'm a parent watching my kid practice, the last thing I want is to be a talking head.” He scoffs. “But I'm happy to hear you joking. Sounds like you're feeling better.”

I thread my fingers through my hair. “Maybe you're right.”

“I hope I'm right. We've been worried about you.” He clears his throat. “And thank you for checking in on Riley. Piper was beside herself when she couldn't reach her this morning.”

“Of course.” I head to the living room and plop myself down on the couch. “I'm glad I went. She was planning to stay at her place—that can't be healthy. That place is a biohazard.”

“How do you feel about having a roommate?”

I shrug even though he can't see me. “After all the touring I've done, I'm used to sharing space.”

“I'm not sure living with Riley will be the same. She's not used to your antics or your rock star lifestyle,” he taunts me. “Don't traumatize my wife's sister, please.”

I scoff. “Fuck you.”

He bursts out laughing, though I'm distracted from the conversation when Riley appears. She's barefoot and wearing an oversized tee that swallows her frame, leaving only the hem of her shorts peeking out. Her hair is in a messy bun, a few blue strands framing her face.

Our eyes meet, and she gives me a cautious smile. I mouth, “One minute,” then I tell Hunter I've got to go.

I toss my phone on the coffee table as Riley lowers herself onto the couch beside me. Okay, “beside me” is a stretch—she keeps her distance, leaving room for at least two people between us.

“Hungry?” I ask.

She pulls her legs up under her butt and settles in. “A little. But are we talking about actual food or takeout that will make me reconsider my life choices?”

I smirk. “You're my guest. The last thing I want is to poison you. There are several great takeout places nearby.”

She studies me silently, her blue eyes darker than usual, her features softening. “Okay. Pick a place you like, and we'll see.”

“What are you in the mood for? Pizza or Thai?”

“Thai.”

“Or maybe sushi, burgers?”

She rolls her eyes. “Still Thai.”

“Thai it is.” I unlock my phone and navigate to the right app. “What about drinks?”

“Water is good. Or grape juice.”

“Got it.”

While I place the order, she sits quietly, a lopsided smile on her face. The tension in my shoulders seeps out. The awkwardness between us seems to have vanished, and she doesn't look so flustered anymore. Hopefully, I can fix things for good while she's here.

It's raining by the time I put my phone on the coffee table. It's slow and steady, and the sky has gotten strangely dark, like it'll probably storm soon.

Riley sighs and peers out the window. “God, I love when it rains.”

“I know.” Every time it rains, I'm hit with a fond memory of her.

“You do?” Brows pulled together, she scrutinizes me.

“Yeah.” I nod. “When you were seventeen, I was in L.A between shows, and you went to a party. Remember? And you called me to come get you.”

She frowns thoughtfully. “That was, what? Seven years ago?”

“Guess so.” I shrug. “You were wasted. Could barely walk when I showed up. Kept telling me how good the air smelled and how good I smelled in comparison to the boys you went to school with. Then, you ordered me to stop the car halfway home so you could stand in the rain for a minute. You were so bossy, I couldn't say no.”

Her lips part. “I can't believe you remember that.”

“You threw up ten minutes later.” Strangely, rather than being annoyed when I remember that part, I only feel affection for her. “It was kinda hard to forget.”

What I don't tell her is how I spent the rest of that night in her room, playing games on my phone and checking on her. Considering how I hurt her this week, I don't know what she'd think about that confession. Hell, I don't know what I think about it.

She laughs, the sound soft and melodic, and presses a throw pillow to her stomach, her attention glued to the window.

I lean back on the couch, relaxing into the soft material. In the quiet, lulled by the sound of the rain, my mind calms. The darkness that always seems to lurk, ready to overtake me, is nonexistent.

How is it possible that her presence can bring me such peace when nothing else has even come close in months?

I survey her while she's entranced by the rain outside. Warmth settles in my chest, spreading through my veins, keeping my heart pumping steadily. My fingertips itch to reach out and tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. I simply want to touch her…

Riley shifts, turning back to me, and I avert my gaze quickly so I'm not caught staring. “Should we watch a movie while we eat?”

I focus on her as if I wasn't scrutinizing her just a moment ago. “What do you want to watch?”

“Definitely not Fast & Furious.”

I guffaw. “You don't trust my judgment?”

“Not when it comes to movies.” She bites her bottom lip. “Can I pick?”

“Sure.” As I'm handing her the remote, my phone buzzes on the table, and Ines' name is displayed on the screen.

I pick it up, realizing I haven't checked in with her today. “Hey,” I say as I stand and head out of the room. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything's fine. Santi's been asking about you, so I promised him I'd call and see if you're still planning to stop by tomorrow.”

“Of course. I miss the little man.” I step into the kitchen and fill a glass with water. “How is he?”

“He's obsessed with drawing this week. He even drew the lego set you gave him. It's so cute.” Her voice is soft, tired.

“I picked up a book. I'm looking forward to reading it with him tomorrow.” I smile to myself. “And if you need a break, even if it's just to take a walk, I'd be more than happy to look after him.”

“Thank you, Hade. I really appreciate it.”

When I return to the living room, Riley stares at me, something like confusion in her eyes.

I haven't mentioned to my family that I'm helping Ines, and I'd prefer to keep it that way, so I don't explain.

“What are we watching?” I ask as I sit on the couch.

“Arcane.”

“What's it about?”

She shrugs. “You'll have to wait and see. After the first episode, if it's not your cup of tea, we can watch whatever you want. Even Fast & Furious.”

“Okay.” I settle into the cushions and prop my feet up on the coffee table. “Let's see what you've got.”

13

a questionable roommate

Riley

The scent of vanilla and the sound of the sizzling pan do a surprisingly good job of grounding me. While I whisk the batter, I think back on the fire, my mind calmer. Then, I pack all the confusion being around Hayden brings me into a box and shove it into the recesses of my brain.

Hade stepped up yesterday, and damn if that didn't make my chest swell with gratitude despite my anger. Even after the vibrator disaster, the atmosphere between us wasn't uncomfortable or awkward.

This morning, I couldn't resist the temptation to make pancakes. Not to try to impress him or anything, but simply because I like cooking. Plus, I'm grateful to him for offering me a place to stay.

My phone lights up with a text, and I take it from the counter.

Nastya:

How was your first night at his place?

Me:

You couldn't wait to ask until you see me later?

Nastya:

Heт

I laugh quietly. She's impossible. At least this is a Russian word I know. She taught me “yes” and “no” early on in our friendship, along with “thank you” and “fuck you.” A really good combination, if you ask me.

Me:

It was fine. We watched Arcane together then went to bed

Nastya:

Together

?

Me:

Heт

Nastya:

Nastya:

So you had a very boring and uneventful evening, is that right?

Me:

Not exactly.

I set my phone down and pour batter into the pan.

Nastya:

*Jennifer Lawrence what do you mean gif*

Me:

He tried to help me unpack and found my vibrator. Then, some woman called him.

Nastya:

Mm, spicy for the first one. Meh for the second.

Me:

Spicy? I was ready for the floor to swallow me. As for the second one, I disagree. It will be easier to forget about him if he's taken.

Nastya:

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to board your flight to Delulu Land. Please take your seats.

Huffing, I flip the pancake. For the first time in years, I'm really considering giving up my crush on Hayden. Why can't she just support me?

Me:

I don't need a flight. I need a new best friend.

Nastya:

Take that back or else.

A quiet snort escapes my lips, and I shake my head. I love her too much to give up on our friendship.

Me:

See you at 10.

As I wait for the next pancake to cook, I survey the spotless kitchen. The cabinets and the breakfast bar are white, contrasting against the dark gray countertops and mahogany floors. It's gorgeous, really, but the room feels so empty. Bottom lip caught between my teeth, I consider the breakfast bar, imagining a bouquet of forget-me-nots with some white roses on it. Would Hayden mind if I brought some back with me this afternoon?

Maybe I should pick up groceries too. It's a miracle I found everything I needed for the pancakes.

Goodness. I shake the thought from my mind. This is a temporary arrangement, nothing more. Why would I stock up on food or decorate?

Just as I'm adding the final pancake to the stack, Hayden shuffles in, one hand pressed to his mouth, yawning. When he notices me, he freezes.

His black sweatpants hang low on his hips, and the damn man is shirtless again. His neck, his chest, and his arms are covered in tattoos, but they're no substitute for a T-shirt. No, they're temptations. It's nearly impossible not to study them. His bleached hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction, as if he tossed and turned all night.

Only after I've looked at him for way too long do I realize he's cataloging me in a similar way. My cheeks heat as he takes in my messy bun, my loose black tee, and my black sleep shorts. When his eyes drop to my legs, he stiffens and forces his focus back to my face, like he finally realizes what he's doing.

“Good morning.” I keep my tone light, pretending I didn't just catch him checking me out. “I didn't think you'd be up so early.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “You really think I could sleep when the place smells this good?”

He moves closer, though he stops again abruptly. It's strange to see him so out of his element, but I'm enjoying it.

“Don't just stand here,” I say. “Sit down.”

“Thanks.” He drops onto a barstool and sighs, resting his elbows on the counter.

I plate four pancakes and set them in front of him. “I couldn't find syrup or even Nutella, so we'll have to make do with cherry jam.”

“I have cherry jam?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“Um, yeah.” I pluck the jar off the counter near the stove. “Want some? And how about coffee?”

For a moment, he studies me, his expression thoughtful and maybe a little confused. “That'd be great. Thank you so much, Ry.”

I sit across from him while we eat, the two of us only speaking here and there. Mostly, he muses about how delicious the pancakes are. Each time, traitorous butterflies come to life in my stomach. It's not the first time we've eaten together—I bring food from time to time when I check on him, worried he isn't eating—but it's the first time we've dined together, just the two of us, out of choice rather than necessity.

Between bites, he asks, “What's your plan today?”

“My first class is at eleven.” I take a sip of my coffee. “And I think I found a company to do a deep smoke-removal treatment at my place, so I'm meeting with them after work.”

“Good. And remember—you can stay here for as long as you need.”

“Thank you. I'll ask about a timeline. Hopefully, I can move back in before I go to Cali.”

“You're going home?”

“Yup.” Before I can think the suggestion through, I say, “Why don't you come with me? I'm sure your parents would love to see you. Piper and Hunter too. And you know how much Story and Hudson love their Uncle Hayden.”

He shakes his head and looks away. “No. Not now. They will see right through me, and I don't want to worry them any more than I already have. I need some more time.”

Frustration and disappointment battle for dominance inside me. Being home, surrounded by the people who love him, could be healing. Their support might be what he needs to work through his grief.

As much as I want to tell him that, I know better. He won't listen to me.

“I get it.” I nod. “At least that means I'll get more time with the kids.”

“They'll be just as happy to see you.” His eyes soften. “Story says you're her role model. She wants to be just like her Aunt Riley.”

“She'll be so much better than me. She's so determined and disciplined.”

He leans forward. “What made you quit ballet?”

That simple question makes my hands go clammy, my heart ready to jump out of my chest. “It's a long story.”

“I have time.”

Nastya is the only person I've opened up to about my reasons, and even she doesn't know everything. I'd prefer to keep it that way.

“Hade, leave it, okay?” I grip my mug tighter.

“For now,” he says, his mouth tugged down in a frown.

Annoyance brews in my chest, making me fidgety. I clear my throat. “What are your plans for today?”

He bows his head, focuses on his plate. “Got somewhere I need to be.”

The change in his demeanor makes my stomach sink. It's like his body has shrunk in on itself. Even his voice seems more distant, as if this is the one topic he'd rather not get into. But after the way he pushed me about ballet, I'm itching to push back.

“Does this have anything to do with the woman who called you yesterday?”

Head snapping up, he sucks in a harsh breath. “It has nothing to do with you.”

I shrug, acting more nonchalant than I feel. “If she's your girlfriend⁠—”

“She's not my girlfriend.” He takes a deep breath. “She's Owen's widow, Ines.”

My heart squeezes painfully. All I can muster is an “Oh.”

“I help her with anything I can, and I visit pretty regularly, keep them company.” He finally looks up, his irises the color of a forest at night, dark and mysterious. “She and Santi don't have anyone else.”

“Santi?”

“Owen's son. He's almost three.”

Tears sting the backs of my eyes as his words sink in. The pain in his voice makes my heart hurt. “I'm so sorry,” I say, covering his hand with mine. “I shouldn't have pushed you to talk about it.”

He flashes me a small, sad smile. “That's okay. I don't know why I haven't told anyone I'm helping her.”

“Maybe for the same reason you don't want your family to see you grieving.”

“Maybe.” He nods. “When did you become so observant?”

I shrug. “Always been this way.”

He pins me with a look. “Ry baby, now you're bragging. Didn't take you for an arrogant type.”

“And you're a questionable roommate.”

His brows jump to his hairline, his mouth forming a little O.

“What?” I tease. “I thought we were stating the obvious.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. It's sinful how handsome he looks. “If we're stating the obvious, I'll point out just how obsessed you are with Arcane. Now I know why you went with blue highlights.”

Warmth courses through my veins. This man noticed a detail no one else has. Without looking away, hoping he can't tell how flustered I am, I shrug. “Yes, and they look great on me.”

He leans back. His gaze on me is intense, his biceps bulging as he crosses his arms. “They do. They make your blue eyes pop. Let me guess—Powder is your favorite. The little sister, just like you.”

Rather than feel annoyed about being called the little sister again, I'm practically giddy. Another detail he's noticed. “Yes and no at the same time.”

“What do you mean?”

“You'll get it once you've seen a few more episodes.”

He straightens and picks up his coffee. “Perfect,” he says. Then, his tone turns serious, almost concerned. “Do you have plans tonight?”

My heart thuds against my breastbone. No, he isn't asking me out on a date, but my body sure thinks he is. “Erm, not really.”

“Great.” He bows his head, but not before I catch the relief on his face.

My stomach swoops in response.

Fuck this attraction. I'm hopeless when it comes to him.

Eager to put a little distance between us, I stand. “I better get ready. Don't want to show up to the studio in sleep shorts and cause a scandal.”

I scoop up my plate and mug and carry them to the sink. As I cross the kitchen, his eyes on me feel like a heavy weight. Not in a bad way; it's just hard to ignore.

“I can imagine some of the moms making a stink. Your legs look endless in those shorts.”

My heart skips a beat, halting me in my tracks. He didn't just say that, did he?

Unable to look back at him for fear I'll discover I'm hallucinating, I scurry to the doorway. “Thanks.”

“Ry?”

Sighing, I turn back. Instantly, I find myself drowning in his green eyes.

“Thank you for breakfast. I really appreciate it,” he says softly.

“Anytime.”

With that, I head to my room, willing myself not to read into any of this.

14

to my guilt

Hayden

When Ines opens the door, I'm hit with a spicy, herbal scent. Her eyes sparkle as I hand over the cup of coffee I picked up on my way.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” she murmurs. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Of course.” I hold out the bag of croissants. “A special delivery for you and Santi.”

She takes it, a red hue spreading across her cheeks. “You didn't have to.”

“Nonsense. There are two chocolate and two with blueberries and mascarpone. The girl at the counter swears they taste heavenly, so I couldn't resist.”

Ines chuckles. “I see why you're so good with kids. It's because, deep down, you're a kid too.”

“Rude!” I say, feigning offense. “But very accurate.”

In the living room, Santi is busy building a fortress with throw pillows, a blanket, and two chairs. The tip of his tongue sticks out from the corner of his mouth, and his brows are pulled together. He doesn't notice me until I crouch behind him and say, “Hey, buddy.”

He perks up and turns to me. Eyes ready to pop out of their sockets, he throws his arms around my neck and yells “Tío!” in my ear.

I hug him back, holding him close. The scent of lavender in his hair takes me back to my own childhood and causes a warm, fuzzy sensation. Lavender was Piper's favorite scent when she was small. Still is.

“How are you, little man?” I ask with a grin.

“Good! I make home,” he says, chest puffed out with pride.

“A home? I was sure you were building a fortress.” Humming, I study the construction. “Do you need my help?”

He nods, and as I secure a blanket to a chair, Ines appears with coffee in hand, dressed in dark blue skinny jeans and a white shirt.

“Going somewhere?”

“I made a nail appointment.” She lowers her gaze to her feet then peers up at me. “Is that okay? Can you look after Santi?”

I brush my fingers over Santi's cheek before I stand and step toward his mom. I duck my head low so my eyes are level with hers. “Of course it's okay. I told you I'd look after him anytime.”

“Thank you.” Lips pursed, she assesses her son. “He should be ready to eat at one, and he usually naps right after lunch. There's soup in the fridge. You'll just need⁠—”

I place my hand on her shoulder, silencing her. “Go. We'll be fine.”

Ines gives me a grateful smile then says goodbye to Santi, crouching and kissing him on the forehead. “Uncle Hayden is going to look after you for a little while. Promise me you'll listen to him?”

“Okay.” He nods, eyes serious and trained on her.

“I won't be long. After your nap, I'll be home.”

“Okay.”

She kisses him again and then heads out. When the door closes behind her, I turn to Santi with a mischievous grin.

“So, how about we build a fortress instead of a house?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” He jumps around, hands in the air.

“And then we'll play. Who do you want to be? A knight who protects the fortress, or”—I pick up the T-Rex toy from the floor—“the dinosaur who wants to destroy it?”

He pumps one fist. “A knight!”

I hold the dino up and bellow, “Then I'll be a big, roaring dinosaur!”

He presses his hands to his cheeks, looking at me with stars in his eyes. “Tío, you the best.”

I chuckle. “Let's get to work, buddy.”

Three hours later, Ines returns and takes her shoes off at the door.

“Hey,” I whisper from my spot on the couch. “Santi is still asleep.”

“Thanks.” She gives me a grateful smile. “Want to taste test the croissants before you go?”

I hop up and rub my hands together. “I'd love to.”

She gestures for me to sit at the table then busies herself in the kitchen. “Coffee or tea?”

I scrub a hand down my face, wiping away the fatigue that hit me after Santi went down, when the apartment was quiet. “Coffee.”

As Ines works, I can't help but think of Riley in my kitchen this morning. The scent of vanilla, the pancakes, and the view—damn, the view almost broke and healed me at the same time.

With her hair pulled up, her delicate neck was on full display, her nipples poking at the fabric of her loose tee, making it hard not to stare at her chest. And those tiny sleep shorts should be fucking illegal. The curve of her ass and her toned legs affected me so viscerally, I had to sit at the bar to hide my erection until after she'd left the kitchen.

In a matter of a week or so, the walls I built between us have really begun to crumble.

“Hade?”

I blink and refocus on Ines.

Brow arched, she studies me. “Is everything okay?”

“S-sorry. I spaced out.” I lick my lips. “What did you say?”

“Do you want milk or sugar in your coffee?”

I shake my head, hoping to knock some sense into it. “No thanks. Just black.”

She pours two cups of coffee then sits across from me.

I inhale, relishing the scent of the warm liquid, and bring the mug to my mouth. “Thank you so much.”

“It's just coffee. And I'm the one who should be thanking you. For the croissants and, more importantly, for watching Santi. You're a lifesaver.”

“I love spending time with him, so you're more than welcome.” More than that, being in his presence, in her presence, is saving my life. I don't tell Ines that, but I don't know I could survive the grief and my guilt without them.

“He didn't cause you any trouble?”

I take another sip and shake my head.

“And he agreed to eat soup?”

The look I give her is half wince, half grin. “Not exactly, but a little bribing did the trick.”

With a chuckle, she brings her croissant to her mouth and takes a bite. “Oh my God,” she moans. “This really is heavenly.”

I follow her lead and take a bite, and damn, is she right. The combination of flavors is unique but incredible. “Looks like the barista was right.”

When we've finished our croissants, I sit back and take a long sip of coffee.

Ines does the same. “What did you bribe Santi with?”

“A croissant. Once he realized I'd brought a chocolate one for him, he dove right into the soup.”

“Can't say I blame you,” she says. “Sometimes, bribing him is the only way to get him to eat vegetables. Or take a bath.”

“He didn't want to nap, but I think that's my fault. He was still wound up from playing and all the sugar.” Head lowered, I drag my finger over the tabletop. “We read a couple of books, and that finally did the trick.”

“You still managed to get him to sleep. I'd call that a win.” She pats my hand and clears her throat, her expression turning cautious. “How are you? And please be honest.”

I shrug. “I'm okay. Some days, it's hard to get out of bed. Others, I feel like I'm getting back on track.” I set my empty mug on the table. “Visiting you two is the highlight of my week. You always make my days brighter. Being around Santi makes me feel close to Owen. It keeps me from losing myself to my grief…” My chest tightens, making it hard to get the last words out. “To my guilt.”

“Hade, it wasn't your fault,” she urges. “None of it was your fault.”

I don't reply. I don't want to argue with her. Owen had changed.

I knew that. He said things that concerned me, about his life as a new dad. I saw him drifting away from Ines too. I asked, of course, many times, but I should have tried harder.

I was too preoccupied with my obligations to Sabotage. I knew he was struggling, but I thought I'd have more time to help him.

“Are you seeing a therapist?” she asks, bringing me back to reality. “I started a month ago, and it's helping me a lot.”

I clear my throat, sit straighter. “Yeah, I am. Don't worry about me.”

Her dark brown eyes are watchful, concerned. She can tell I'm lying.

Rather than call me out on it, she shakes her head and takes our mugs to the sink.

Santi fusses, so I quickly say goodbye and head home. The relief I normally get out of visiting has dimmed after my conversation with Ines.

As I'm turning the key in the ignition, my phone buzzes. I take it out of my pocket and answer without checking the caller I.D.

“Hey, man!” T.J's voice is loud in my ear. I met him not long after I moved to New York. He owns three bars and a club I used to frequent. “It's been a while.”

While I should be happy to hear from him, I honestly don't feel much of anything. “Hey. It has. How are you?”

“Doing well. Opening a new place on Friday.”

“Congratulations. Business must be good.”

“It is.” His responding chuckle makes the phone line crackle. “Any chance you could come to the opening? Stay for a few hours? I know you love getting behind the bar and mixing drinks for the crowd. It'd be fun, and the bar would get a lot of buzz if people knew the Hayden Hale was bartending.”

My gut sinks. “I don't know…”

“Hade, please. I wouldn't be asking if I didn't really need it. I took a big risk with this place. The competition in the area is serious.”

I hesitate, fingers rapping on the steering wheel. The last thing I want is to go out and socialize, but if I can talk Riley into going with me, maybe I can make up for my Friday blunder.

“Okay.” I sigh. “Send me the details.”

“You're the fucking best!”

“You owe me something from the top shelf,” I tease.

“Anything,” he eagerly agrees. “See you on Friday.”

I end the call, toss my phone on the passenger seat, and drive away. Now to convince Riley. Surely, she could use a break after dealing with the smoke damage in her apartment. And maybe she'll meet a guy there.

As the thought crosses my mind, my stomach roils. Why does it feel so fucking bad just imagining her with someone else?

Fuck…I think I'm heading toward inevitable disaster.

15

i just want him

Riley

It's strange being at Hayden's place without him, like I'm in a foreign land and afraid of taking the wrong step. My curiosity is eating me alive. Where is he? Who is he with? Could he really still be at Owen's wife's place? It's been hours.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and when Piper's name appears, I swipe the screen and answer. “Hey.”

“Hi, Ry.” Her voice sounds melodic and cheerful. “How are you?”

“Good. Had two classes today then went to my place to meet with a rep from a cleaning company. They can start on my apartment next week, and he said I should be able to move back in the week after that.”

“Are you in a hurry to get out of Hayden's place? He didn't give you a deadline, did he?”

“Of course not. He said I'm free to stay as long as I need.” I head out of the bedroom. “I just don't want to take advantage.”

She sighs. “Is that really what it's about?”

A rush of nerves washes over me. “Um, yes? What else could it be?”

“You had a crush⁠—”

“Stop. That's in the past,” I mutter.

At least, it should be. How pathetic of me to pine over a man who still thinks of me as a child. But after spending so much time in his company lately, with the way he looks at me and after some of the comments he's made, I can't help but wonder if his opinion has changed.

“Sorry. I don't want to upset you.”

“That's okay.” I sigh.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

I cringe at the question. “Nope.” With the phone tucked between my ear and my shoulder, I check on the roasted chicken in sweet-and-sour sauce I left warming in the oven. “I'm not sweating it. I'm fine.”

“As long as you're happy, I'm happy. Any fun plans for the weekend?”

“Nastya's mom and sister are coming tomorrow, so I'll be mostly on my own.”

“Maybe you and Hayden can hang out. It would do him good to have company.”

The sound of the elevator catches my attention, and the butterflies in my stomach dance again.

“Maybe,” I mumble, distracted as I listen for Hayden. “How are you? How are the kids?”

Our call only lasts a few more minutes. As I say goodbye, Hayden strolls into the kitchen. He's wearing a pair of black sweats, his chest bare once again. My heart gallops, pumping blood through my veins and heating my skin.

He flashes me a lopsided grin. “Hey, roommate.”

I snort.

“How was your day?” He sidles up near me, smiling.

“Just like any other. Lots of kids, glitter, and classical music.” I turn to face him, one hand on the edge of the counter. “What about yours?”

“All good. Played babysitter to Santi so Ines could get her nails done.” He sniffs the air. “Did you cook?”

“Sweet-and-sour chicken. Want some?”

His eyes flash with genuine delight. “Hell yeah.”

“God, this is perfection,” he murmurs after his first bite. “I didn't know you were such a good cook. I'm not sure I want you to leave. If you're not careful, I might tie you up and keep you.”

His tone is teasing. It's a joke, but my core tightens in response; my body clearly hasn't gotten the memo. “Are you into B.D.S.M? If so, we can definitely discuss the ways in which you can tie me up.”

With his fork in the air, rice falling onto his plate, he gapes.

“I'm joking,” I reassure him.

Something really close to surprise passes over his irises, but it's too fleeting for me to be sure.

“I wasn't expecting a comment like that from you.” He shakes his head as if to clear his mind. “Um, I do want to talk to you about something, though.”

I pat my mouth with my napkin and return it to my lap. “And what's that?”

“A friend of mine owns a few local bars. He asked me to come to the grand opening of his newest one on Friday.” He takes a sip of juice. “Want to join me? Take a little break from your routine to have fun?”

I sit back, a little stunned. “If I say yes, will you actually hang out with me? Because last time didn't exactly go well.”

He rubs his eye with the heel of his hand. “I feel like total shit for the way I acted, for hurting you. I'll never make that mistake again. I promise. Please. Come with me. T.J's bars are always a good time.”

I sigh, knowing I should say no but secretly thrilled at the invite. “Fine. I'll go with you.” I set my elbows on the table and lean forward. “But fail me again, and you'll be on my shit list forever, Hayden Hale.”

He angles in closer, our faces inches apart. “Duly noted.”

Hayden wasn't lying about this place. The bar is called Alchemy, and it's packed. The walls are brick, the wooden floors distressed.

The lights are soft, and there's a live band playing on a small stage. My skin buzzes with excitement, the sensation thankfully drowning out the apprehension that's been plaguing me since I agreed to come here tonight.

“Let's go. I'll introduce you to T.J.” Hayden places his hand on the small of my back, gently pushing me forward.

Goose bumps erupt all over my body. The touch is casual, a layer of clothing between us, but still. It's more enjoyable than any sensation I've felt in months.

At the bar, a guy with his hair pulled back in a bun rounds the counter, grinning. “Hade, my man.” He shakes Hayden's hand and slaps his back. “I'm so happy you made it.”

“Hey, T.J.” Hayden glances at me. “This is Riley. She's my…friend.”

It's true, even if I wish we were more. At least he didn't refer to me as his best friend's little sister this time.

“It's very nice to meet you.”

He gives me a once-over as he shakes my hand. “The pleasure is all mine.” To Hayden, he says, “Ready for your shift?”

Frowning, I look from one man to the other. Shift? What is he talking about?

“Two hours. That's it.”

“Whatever works for you. I'll be forever in your debt.” T.J shuffles back to the bar.

Hayden turns to me, giving me a wry smile. “I promised I'd help create some buzz. He talked me into bartending for two hours. After that, I'm all yours.” He ducks his head, his expression suddenly serious. “Will you sit at the bar? Hang out near me?”

I scan the space and notice several women already eyeing him. The green monster rears its ugly head.

“Sure.”

“You're the best.” He guides me to an empty stool, and when I'm settled, he plants a kiss on my cheek.

It's a damn good thing I'm sitting, because the way my legs weaken in response to that simple gesture is sickening.

“What are you drinking?”

“Rum and Coke.”

“Rum and Coke it is.” With a wink, he darts around the bar.

For the next two hours, I sip on my drink and people-watch. The crowd grows, and I hear several people say they found out Hayden was here because they saw him on friends' and influencers' Instagram Stories.

I have to hand it to T.J: asking Hayden to tend the bar was genius.

By my third drink, the jealousy I've been fighting all night flares brighter. He smiles at one customer after another, flirting, bantering, winking. He's a natural charmer.

No wonder he has so many fans—so many groupies. His magnetic energy is infectious. It makes it impossible not to look at him. With nothing more than a smile and a greeting, he makes people feel attractive and desired.

And fuck, if it doesn't make him even more attractive and desirable.

He moves quickly, pouring drinks with precision, flashing smiles to customers. He looks alive, brighter than he has in months. There's a glint in his eye again, and his cheeks are pink with excitement and exertion.

This Hayden disappeared the day Owen died. This is the Hayden I've known my whole life. The life of the party. The flirt. The heart-stopper.

From time to time, I catch his eye. He smiles and winks, silently letting me know he hasn't forgotten about me.

“Damn, the guy's got charisma,” a man to my left says.

I turn toward the voice and find a pair of dark green eyes watching me. They're not the same color as Hayden's, but they're close. He's probably in his thirties, and his smile is bright, showing off perfectly straight white teeth. He's in a white tee and blue jeans, a simple, relaxed look.

“I've been watching the way he works the crowd. He knows what he's doing,” the guy tells me.

“Yeah, he knows how to attract attention,” I reply, surveying Hayden again.

The man shifts closer and leans against the bar, facing me. “What about you? Do you know how to attract attention?”

I grin. I can't deny his attention is flattering. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“On whose attention I want to attract.”

He holds his hand out to me. “I'm Nick.”

“It's nice to meet you, Nick.” I slide my palm against his, give it a light squeeze, and let go.

A chill rolls down my spine, like I'm being watched. Discreetly, I turn. When I find Hayden looking at me, my heart picks up its pace. The glare he directs toward Nick brings heat to my cheeks. Is he jealous? Or just worried?

There's only one way to find out.

I fix my focus on Nick again.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.

“Why not?” I lift my cocktail. “Rum and Coke.”

“Got it.”

He wanders down the bar to place the order, and again, I feel Hayden's gaze on me. Our eyes collide. He isn't smiling; instead, the intense expression on his face as he stares me down makes my whole body come alive. My center throbs as my heart rate picks up, making my breaths come quickly.

God, how much I want his attention solely on me. His eyes on me. His smiles reserved only for me.

I just want him.

16

it's riley

Hayden

Some guy is flirting with Riley. And I know him. His name is Nick, and he works in marketing for a record label. We've made small talk a few times. I don't know much about him, other than he's smart and always seemed nice.

Two traits any man Riley dates should possess. Fuck. I don't like his attention on her, not even for a second.

On autopilot, I slide two beers across the bar. A girl is talking my ear off, but I'm too focused on Riley to listen. Dammit. I regret not being closer to her. When the crowd started to grow, I chose to keep my distance. It's safer this way, considering I've seen several women tonight who are part of Sabotage's fan club.

Keeping my distance was supposed to mean she'd be safer from the unwanted attention of my fans, not safer from men who show an interest in her. Though, can I blame Nick? Riley's always beautiful, but tonight, she's magnificent. Her white shirt with rolled-up sleeves looks like it was custom-stitched for her. It accentuates her narrow waist, and the way it highlights the round swell of her tits made my mouth water when she walked out of her bedroom tonight. Her light blue jeans hug her fit ass and toned legs so perfectly, it took effort not to stride across the living room and grip her hips.

Her hair? Goddamn it. Long blue strands frame her face, bringing out the color of her eyes. The rest cascades over her shoulders in soft waves. Her look is simple, but it oozes a sexual energy I've never noticed in her before.

Probably because I trained myself not to look at her.

And now, I don't ever want to stop looking.

As Nick shuffles away, I survey her again. She's staring right at me, as if she can see into my soul. Maybe she can. If so, I'm even more screwed than I thought. I shouldn't send her mixed signals. I should stick to my previous resolution that nothing can ever happen between us. She's my best friend's little sister, yes, but more than that, I'm not in the right headspace to date.

So, I fake a smile, wink at her as if her interaction with Nick doesn't bother me, then focus on the customers in front of me—two girls wearing Sabotage merch. They want mocktails, to flirt, and take a photo with me. And I do just that, because that's why I came here tonight.

But genuinely, I can't wait to go home.

I tend bar for three hours instead of two. When I'm done, Riley is in the middle of a conversation with Nick. By the broad smile on her face and the sparkling glint in her eyes, I see she's enjoying herself—and by the way he looks at her, he is too.

Fists clenched, I take a deep breath and let it out again. The frustration I feel with myself and the situation altogether makes my skin crawl. I have no right to be jealous. I have no right to tell her what she can and cannot do, but damn, if I don't want to whisk her back to my penthouse.

Easy, Hayden. Don't you dare act like a dog ready to mark its territory.

When some of the tension has eased, I sidle up to them, stopping by Riley's stool. As if I haven't just given myself a pep talk, I snake an arm around her waist, drawing her attention to me.

“Hey, Ry baby. Sorry it took so long.”

She looks up at me, her pupils wide and her cheeks flushed.

A little concerned by how drunk she looks, I ask, “Is everything okay?”

“It's all good.” She nods toward her company. “Nick has been entertaining me.”

So far, I've ignored the guy, but now, I don't have any choice but to greet him. “Hey, Nick.”

His gaze drops to my hand on Riley's waist then climbs back to my face.

“It's been a while,” I say, ignoring the way he scrutinizes us. “How have you been?”

“You two know each other?” she asks, glancing between us, a deep crease between her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” I confirm.

He rubs the back of his neck. “I didn't know you two knew each other, but yeah, Hayden and I have met on several occasions. If I'd known, I would've mentioned it.” A sheepish smile crosses his face. “I kept it to myself because I wanted to make a good first impression and not sound like a clout-chasing asshole.”

She shifts to face him, and the move causes my hand to slip from her hip. “You certainly made a good impression.”

The fuck?

“I'm glad to hear it,” he murmurs, eyes glued to hers.

He's glad to hear it? I am not. Frustration bubbles in my gut, but I slip my hands deep into my pockets and clamp my mouth shut. Fuck, am I jealous. Not that I can act on it. I already ruined one fun night for her. I don't want to repeat my mistakes.

“I should probably leave you two alone?” Why am I asking? It shouldn't have been a question.

She surveys me, but her attention quickly snags on something over my shoulder. “I'm sure your fans would appreciate more time with their favorite celebrity.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Probably. If you need me, I'll be around.” I take one step back, then another.

Before I turn on my heel, Nick calls my name, halting me.

“I'm sorry about what happened to Owen,” he says. “My condolences to you and his family. He was a very talented guy, gone way too soon.”

My heart thuds painfully against my rib cage, and the live music turns into white noise. Hands trembling, I shove them into my pockets again. His words are genuine, but they land like a punch to my gut. So far, tonight has been a nice little break from my grief and my depression, and then, with a few simple words, he single-handedly tossed me back into the ocean of sorrow and regret. Not on purpose, but still…

“Thanks,” I mutter. “I better go.” With that, I whip around and beeline toward the restrooms.

For several minutes, I stare into the mirror, studying my reflection as if it will change now that the pits of my own hell have been opened again. I quietly count to a hundred. I want to go home, but Riley's having a good time, and I can't fail her again.

“Suck it up, dude,” I hiss at my reflection. “Stop being such a buzzkill. Let the girl enjoy herself. She doesn't deserve to be dragged into your mess.”

When my fingers finally stop trembling, I head back out into the chaos. Breaths sawing in and out of my lungs, I make my way back to the bar. Halfway there, I find Riley, but this time, she's alone.

I come to an abrupt stop and assess her. She's facing away from the bar, her posture tense.

Before I can make my feet move again, she sees me and strides my way.

“Ready to go home?” she asks.

I slide a hand down my face, confused. “Are you? I thought you wanted to stay.”

She shrugs. “Not in the mood anymore.”

Something must've happened while I was in the restroom, but I'm honestly too eager to get out of here to ask.

Without another word, I lace my fingers with hers and pull her toward the exit. She follows me easily, her hand comically small in mine. T.J claps me on my shoulder as we pass, shouting his appreciation. I wave but don't slow down, too desperate for fresh air.

Thank fuck I asked Wyatt to drive us tonight. My thoughts are too chaotic to allow me to think straight. Once we're settled in the back seat, I turn to Riley. “What happened with Nick?”

She lifts one shoulder. “Nothing.”

“You were flirting with him⁠—”

She snorts. “So what? You flirted with everyone you served.”

I clench my jaw and force a harsh breath out through my nose. If I don't chill out, I'll say something I regret.

“That's not what I mean,” I say, keeping my tone even. “You can do whatever you want, flirt with whomever you want. But you seemed into him, and when I came back from the restroom, you were alone and ready to leave. What happened?”

She doesn't blink, doesn't look away. “Nothing happened.”

Unease swirls in my gut. “Ry?”

“Nick is a nice guy. I just…wasn't in the mood anymore.” She crosses her arms over her chest and faces forward, ending the conversation.

There's no way I'm getting the answer out of her right now.

The moment we step into the penthouse, she dashes to her room, leaving me alone in total silence.

After a shower, I pull on a pair of sweatpants and make my way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

My mind is a mess, and not only because of Nick's comment about Owen. No, a dozen confusing emotions stir inside me, and most of them are because of Riley. The need to make sure she's okay is familiar, but the jealousy? This desire to mark her so no one else looks at her?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Head lowered, I put the empty glass in the sink and pad back to my bedroom. As I pass her door, I come to a stop.

What are you doing? My brain knows I should move, but my body doesn't agree.

Just as I take another step closer, she makes a sound. It's low, almost breathless. What⁠—

Is that a moan? Holy fuck. When she moans a second time, my heart stops. I press my ear to her door, and sure enough, she does it again. There's another sound too, a low hum. Shit. She's masturbating using her pink vibrator. Fucking herself in my penthouse. Pleasuring herself when there's nothing but a wall between us.

Struggling for breath, I press my forehead to the doorframe and close my eyes. Her next moan is louder. I shouldn't be here, but I'm glued to the spot. All I want is to be inside her room. To watch the way she moves her vibrator in and out of her wet pussy.

To see her tits, her toned body. To feel her lips against mine.

My body heats, the sensation settling in my groin. Fuck, even her sounds are perfect. I squeeze my hard cock through my sweatpants, but it doesn't bring me the relief I need. So, I dip my hand beneath the waistband and stroke once, twice, and before I know it, I've come in my pants.

Shame washes over me a second after the relief. I should've walked away the moment I heard her. I should've respected her privacy.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Standing under the spray for the second time in one night—this time, the water ice cold—I stare at the tiled wall. My thoughts race. I try to convince myself I came in my sweatpants because I haven't had sex in months, but the truth is like a neon sign in my brain.

It's her.

It's Riley.

And I have no idea how much longer I can resist her.

17

fuck it

Riley

Hayden's kitchen is lifeless. Outside isn't much better. This morning, the clouds hang low and heavy, like a dense blanket muting the sunlight.

I sit at the breakfast bar, hands wrapped tightly around my mug of lukewarm coffee.

The coffee is bitter, just like my thoughts.

Last night wasn't particularly bad, especially after I finally stopped watching Hayden flirt with what felt like everyone. Nick's company helped, and I didn't mind getting to know him better.

But after Hayden joined us, the night went downhill. It was painful to watch the color drain from his face when Nick brought up Owen, to see the way his hands trembled as he balled them into fists. After that, I couldn't imagine he'd want to stay, and I couldn't ask him to just because I was having a good time. So, I parted ways with Nick, and then I waited for Hade to return from the restroom.

I sip my coffee, barely tasting it as I replay our conversation in the car last night. I snapped at Hayden when he mentioned me flirting with Nick. The comment felt unfair, considering the way he'd spent the previous three hours, though once he explained himself, I couldn't help but feel like an ass for jumping to the wrong conclusions so easily.

How I went from being pissed at him and myself to masturbating, imagining him holding the vibrator, is beyond me. The whole thing played out like a movie in my head. He opened my bedroom door, watching me from afar at first. Little by little, he moved closer until he was settled between my legs, his tongue playing with my clit. My orgasm was so fucking strong, I had to hide my face in my pillow to muffle the sounds.

“Very mature, Riley,” I scold myself.

As I'm setting my now empty mug on the table, Hayden steps into the kitchen, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“Morning,” he rasps without looking my way.

Nervous butterflies flutter to life in my belly. “Morning. There's coffee in the pot if you want.”

“Thank you.” Mug in hand, he climbs onto the stool across from me. Only then does he meet my gaze. “Listen, about yesterday. I shouldn't have asked about Nick. You said you wanted to go home, and that should've been enough for me.” He sighs, setting the mug in front of him. “I'm sorry. I hope I didn't ruin another night for you.”

“Thank you for saying that.” I cover his hand with mine. He tenses slightly, so I pull back.

Shit. Looks like we're back to square one.

“And don't worry,” I say, ignoring the disappointment blooming inside me, “I had a nice time.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yup. Watching you was fun. The way you control the crowd is impressive. It's like you make them play by your rules without them even realizing it.” I smirk. “Though with the intense eye contact, I'm shocked no one leaned in and said, 'So…what are we?'”

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

I set my elbows on the table and angle forward, keeping my eyes locked with his. I slowly lick my lips, and, like I knew it would, his gaze drops to my mouth. Shivers run down my spine, a pleasant anticipation forming in my stomach. When he saw me with Nick last night, I thought he might be jealous, though I realized it was wishful thinking. But with the way he's looking at me now, as if I'm a snack, I believe I'm onto something.

“So, what are we?” I tease.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Okay, now I get it.”

I settle back, relaxing in my seat.

He does the opposite. He holds me captive with his gaze, giving me an even more intense look than he did yesterday.

I shift, crossing my legs. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Isn't this what you're talking about? The look I was giving customers yesterday?” He arches a brow.

“Yeah,” I lie, my stomach flipping. “But for the record, a guy shouldn't look at his best friend's little sister like that.”

“You're right,” he admits. “But”—his tone is suddenly husky, making my center throb—“trust me, you don't want to know why.”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head. “Because it's highly inappropriate.”

“I'm an adult. I can handle it.”

He stands, abandoning his coffee. “But I can't handle it, Ry baby.”

Without allowing me time to respond, he's gone, leaving me alone, my thoughts in total disarray. Something is shifting between us, I can feel it.

But clearly, he's scared of our chemistry.

The question is, what happens once he stops being afraid?

I spend the rest of the day with Nastya and her family.

“I have something for you,” she says after dinner.

Her mom and sister are still adjusting to the time difference, so they went to bed shortly after we ate. Grant hung out with us for a little bit, but he's been in bed for a while now too. He and Nastya talked me into staying the night, so my best friend and I are making the most of it.

“What is it?”

“Have a little patience.” She barely hides her smile. “I asked Ksyusha to buy it for you in Minsk.”

I press my hands together, silently clapping with my fingertips.

“I know how much you love these flowers,” she says, holding out a little box. “While they are not that common here, they are everywhere in Belarus.”

I open the box, and when I find a little forget-me-not pendant, tears spring to my eyes. It's sparkly and elegant, making my heart swell.

I wrap my arms around Nastya's shoulders and pull her in for a hug. “Thank you so much.” I sniffle. “You're the best friend ever.”

“You're so very welcome.” She hugs me back. “Love you, Ry.”

“I love you too.”

I don't know what I did to deserve her, but I'll be forever grateful to ballet and the New York School of Performing Arts for bringing us together.

I got back to Hayden's penthouse around lunchtime on Sunday and found the place empty. He didn't get home until almost 10 PM, just as I was getting ready for bed.

“How was dinner last night?” he asks from my doorway.

“It was good. We stayed up way too late.” I chew on my cheek, nervous to ask the question on my mind. I go for it anyway. “Where were you today?”

“At Ines'. Santi got sick, and his babysitter wasn't available. Ines called me so she could make it to an appointment.” He shrugs. “I said yes. I'm always happy to hang out with the little guy.

And it's good that she's getting back to her routine. I wanted to encourage that.”

My chest warms. “You're an amazing friend. She's lucky to have you.”

A small grin lights up his face, but it quickly transforms into a yawn. “Sorry. I better get to bed. If I'm not careful, I might fall asleep right here.”

“Night.”

“Night, Ry.” He takes a step out of the room but instantly returns. “Any fun plans for tomorrow?”

“Just work. It's the end of the spring semester, so my younger students are heading into summer break.”

His expression brightens. “Should we celebrate?”

I chuckle. “Maybe once all my classes are done, though I'm headed to Cali pretty soon after that.”

“Okay. How about ordering dinner and watching Arcane after work?”

“Sounds great. I should be home around six.”

“Awesome. It's a date.” With a sleepy wink, he shuffles out of the room.

Heart stumbling, I rub my forehead. Did he really just say “It's a date?” What is going on?

My five-year-olds have almost perfected their Sugar Plum Fairy dance. I count in my head as they finish. It's everything I hoped for when class started in September.

“Well done, my sugarplums. I'm so proud of each and every one of you.” With an encouraging smile, I clap. “Keep practicing over the summer, but please don't forget to enjoy your time off. I can't wait to hear what you get up to when I see you in September.”

The little girls crowd me, hugging me one after another. I wrap my arms around their shoulders, wishing each one an amazing summer.

Once the room is empty, I pack up. If I leave now, I can be at Hayden's place by six like I promised.

My heart gallops at all the possibilities tonight might bring. A rush of adrenaline surges through me, making me feel energized and awake. Though I'm trying not to get ahead of myself, his little “date” comment makes me giddy.

As I'm slipping my phone into my bag, a man clears his throat from the doorway. “Hi, Riley.”

Shit. Finance Guy.

“Hey.” I frown, my hackles rising. “What are you doing here? Rosie and your wife are already gone.”

He shuffles closer, scanning the room. When he's a few feet away, he takes a deep breath and fixes his focus on me. “I'm sorry. What I did wasn't fair to you or my wife, and it especially wasn't fair to Rosie. I made a mistake, jeopardized my marriage, hurt you.”

“You didn't hurt me.” I lift my chin and pull my shoulders back. “You just proved me right—I can't trust men.”

He grimaces, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I swear I'm not that guy. I've never cheated on my wife, never⁠—”

A loud scoff escapes me, making him fall silent. In my book, kissing someone who's not your spouse would be considered unfaithful. So would heavy petting.

“But you made me lose my mind,” he whispers. “I didn't even think about what I was doing. I just wanted more. And it was wrong.”

Irritation flares to life in my veins. Is he seriously putting some of the blame on me? “So if I wasn't Rosie's dance teacher, you wouldn't have stopped seeing me?”

He lowers his head. It's the only answer I need. Fucking asshole.

“You should leave.”

He steps toward me, coming too close. I take a step back, then another, my back hitting the barre. I'm not scared, but being this close to him disgusts me.

“Leave, Will,” I hiss.

“I-I have no right to ask you this,” he says pleadingly, “but can you please not say anything to my wife? Please. It would ruin my family.”

I snicker. “You almost fucked me in the back seat of your car, and now you're worried about ruining your family?”

He puffs his cheeks, his face reddening. “It was a mistake. You were so willing⁠—”

The anger in my blood turns to fury. “Get. Out.”

“Shit, I'm sorry⁠—”

I skirt him and open the door wide. “Leave,” I say, my voice loud, “or I'm calling security.”

“Please, just don't say anything to my wife.” He trudges to the door but stops at the threshold. “Please.”

“I won't say anything to your wife, but not because you asked. I'll do it for Rosie. She deserves better than this mess you've made,” I grit out. “Now fuck off.”

He nods and rushes out of the room.

With a long exhale, I shut the door. Then, I sag against the wall and slide to the floor. My body is trembling; my skin is damp and sticky.

I'm so fucking disgusted. How could I have fallen for his bullshit?

It's almost eight when I step out of the elevator. The altercation with Finance Guy left me with tense shoulders and a stiff neck. Not even the bouquet of roses I picked up for myself on my way to the penthouse cheered me up.

I slip out of my shoes then follow the sound of the T.V and the scent of something spicy to the living room. It only now hits me that I didn't text Hayden to let him know I'd be late.

The coffee table is littered with unopened containers from his favorite Thai restaurant, and he's slumped back on the couch, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else. Only when I clear my throat does he acknowledge me, and even then, it's only with a dull look.

“Hey. Sorry I'm late. I got sidetracked.” That's putting it lightly, but I'm too exhausted to go into detail tonight.

Silently, he scrutinizes me, his attention lingering on the bouquet in my hands.

The way he scowls at me sends a shiver down my spine. What's gotten into him?

“Hade?” I ask, my heart in my throat. “Is everything okay?”

“Where did you get the flowers?”

I blink, confusion swirling in my mind. “I bought them.”

His lips curl up on one side, but his expression remains flat. “For yourself?”

“Yeah. I always keep fresh flowers at home. I've been thinking about buying them for your place but haven't had the time.”

He stands and prowls closer. His movements are slow, calculated, strange. It causes my anxiety to spike. I take a step back.

“Are you sure they aren't from Nick? Or some other guy?”

Mouth open, I gape. First, I had to deal with the asshole who cheated on his wife and lied to me, and now, I'm being interrogated out of the blue by a guy who's never even noticed me? I fucking hate it here.

I move around him and trudge toward the kitchen.

“Riley!” he barks, hot on my heels.

It takes all my willpower not to slap him across the face with the gorgeous flowers I'm clutching. I set the bouquet on the kitchen counter and turn, hands on my hips. “What do you want?”

“I asked you a question.”

“And I gave you an answer!” I throw my hands in the air. “I bought them for myself because I deserve them. So fuck off. You have no right to be possessive like this.”

He searches my face, his emerald eyes full of heat. “Fuck it,” he murmurs.

He steps into me, snakes an arm around my waist, and pulls me against him. My breath hitches as our chests collide. Lips parted, I gawk at him, but before I can ask him what the hell he's doing, his mouth is on mine.

18

just once

Hayden

The kiss is deep and passionate from the moment our lips meet. I hold her tightly, her warmth radiating into my bare chest. Arms draped around my neck, Riley eagerly kisses me back. Her tongue slips into my mouth, curling around mine in a frenzy.

I couldn't resist the urge to kiss her. It felt like I'd fall apart if I didn't.

She clings to me, her fingers in my hair as she tilts her head to deepen the connection. I might have been the one to initiate it, but she instantly took control. And I fucking love it.

We break apart to catch our breaths. Then, I press my lips to her cheek and kiss down her neck. She throws her head back, giving me better access, moaning as I suck on the delicate skin of her throat.

“I'm so tired,” I whisper against her skin. “Tired of pretending there's nothing between us. That I don't want you. That I don't think about you all the time.” I rear back, searching her face. “Ry baby, what are you doing to me?”

“Pretty much the same thing you're doing to me,” she murmurs, her lips puffy. She grinds against me, and my vision cuts in and out. Jesus Christ.

“This will complicate everything,” I tell her. “Our lives are too connected. Our families⁠—”

She pinches my nipple and tugs, effectively silencing me.

“You can't seriously tell me you think of me as family.” She twists harder, sending bolts of pain and pleasure through me.

I groan, head thrown back. “Fuck no…not anymore. I haven't thought of you as family for a while now.”

“Good.” She pulls back, eyes dancing with mischief. “There's too much tension between us. It just finally reached its boiling point.”

“What do you suggest we do with all this tension?” I slip my hand to her ass and give it a hard squeeze.

“We need to get rid of it.”

My heart skips a beat. When she walked in with that bouquet after I'd waited hours for her to come home, I went feral. I lost all sense of right and wrong. Now, I'm acting on pure emotion.

Do I want her? It's not even a question. But the consequences could be severe. I'm still dealing with grief and guilt. I'd hate myself if I hurt her, and I worry I'm a ticking time bomb.

It's only a matter of time before I detonate. Piper would never forgive me for hurting her sister. Fuck, no one in my family would forgive me for that.

“Ry…”

She traces her fingers down my throat, following the design of the tattoo there. She continues the path, drawing lines over my ink. Eyes half closed, I dig my fingers deeper into her ass. The remnants of my restraint are disappearing.

“Just once,” she whispers.

She likes you, my inner voice reminds me. She's liked you for years.

“I don't want to hurt you,” I tell her quietly.

She pops up onto her toes, and soon, our lips are an inch apart. “I won't let you. Just once, Hayden.” She kisses me, her lips soft, her hands roaming my body, setting my skin on fucking fire. I'm weak when it comes to her…so fucking weak.

“Just once,” I mutter.

With a step back, I snag her hand. Fingers twined, I lead her to my bedroom. If we're doing this, we're doing it fucking right.

By the time we stumble into my room, our lips are glued together. She smells so damn sweet, like caramel. I bury a hand in her long hair and gently rake my fingers through it. Everything about her is soft. I can't get enough of her.

I back her against the wall and break our kiss, drinking her in. Her blue eyes glimmer, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I'm dying to taste her.

Decision made, I drop to my knees and slide my hands up her skirt until I find the elastic band of her panties. Slowly, I drag them down her thighs, heaving in breaths, willing my heart to slow.

Her panties are lacy and blue. Of course they are.

Blue is quickly becoming my favorite color.

“Spread your legs,” I tell her.

Back pressed to the wall, she obeys. She pulls up her skirt, baring herself to me. I inhale deeply, my mind going hazy at the view. Already, she's glistening, wet for me. Fuck me.

I'm a goner.

I drag my tongue in a circle around her clit, moving slowly, testing to see what she likes. She bucks her hips, and a loud moan slips from her. I lick and suck, alternating between gentle and hard. She tastes so fucking sweet.

With her fingers in my hair, she moves her hips in time with the movements of my tongue. Moans as sweet as she tastes fill my room. I lap at her clit, relishing the way her arousal coats my face.

“You taste so fucking good, Ry baby…”

As I continue caressing her clit with my tongue, I slip one finger inside her. In and out, I stretch her little by little. I add another finger and then a third one. When I'm knuckles deep, I pump faster. Lips and tongue on her clit, fingers deep inside her, I drive her closer to her release.

“Please don't stop,” she begs, tugging on my hair. “Please, Hade, don't fucking stop…”

I suck her clit hard into my mouth and curl my fingers inside her, and her grip on my hair gets tighter. When she lets out a long, low moan, I know she's close. I double my efforts, seeking her sweetest spot.

Her insides clench around my fingers, and then she's coming, legs shaking, incoherent words leaving her mouth. She holds me where she needs me the most, and I'm happy to oblige, licking at her until she sags against the wall.

Eventually, she lets go of my hair. Only then do I stand and cup her cheeks. With a weak smile, she grasps the back of my head and pulls me to her for a kiss. It's slow at first, but it quickly heats up, sending electric sparks through my veins.

“I want you,” she whispers against my lips.

I grab her ass and pick her up, depositing her on the bed.

“Take your dress off,” I order as I take a step back. “I want to see you. All of you.”

Eagerly, she stands and tears the garment over her head. It's fascinating how demanding yet obedient she is. Looks like she has a praise kink, but what else? I've yet to find out, and damn, if I'm not excited to discover more.

Her dress lands on the floor, followed by her lacy blue bra.

At the sight of her, I swallow hard. Her round tits and her perky nipples make my mouth water. Her abs are toned from all the years of dancing. Her hips are soft, and her legs are perfection.

She is a masterpiece, beautiful and so fucking hot. I'm losing my mind just looking at her.

I reach for the nightstand drawer and pull out a condom.

“I have an implant,” she says quietly as I tear open the foil packet.

“Good, but I'd like to use this too. I just want to be as responsible as possible.” I give her a small smile.

She is so damn precious, and this is so much more than simple sexual attraction. Tonight, I'm tearing down a boundary I set years ago.

I push my sweatpants down, then my briefs. Cock hard, I stand in front of her, fully naked. She drinks me in, her attention moving from my face to my neck, my chest, and settling on my dick. There, she blinks twice, and her mouth falls open. She's staring as if she's never seen a cock before.

With a harsh breath in, she looks up, eyes wide. Damn, she's adorable.

“What is that?”

I smirk. “It's a piercing.”

Despite how shocked she is, she rolls her eyes at the smugness in my voice. “Doesn't it hurt?”

“Not even a little. I had it done years ago. It's a part of me, just like my tattoos.”

Eyes still glued to my dick, she bites her bottom lip. A pink hue creeps onto her cheeks as she counts. “One, two, three, four, five, six… You seriously pierced your dick six times?”

Amusement weaves its way through me, but I keep my reaction in check and nod.

“That's a lot of metal.” She looks up, her pupils blown. “Does Piper know?”

I snort. “You really think I'd tell my brother's wife about the things I do with my dick?”

Her cheeks flame, but her surprised expression quickly morphs into curiosity. “The barbells are like a ladder.”

I hum. “Yeah. It's called a Jacob's Ladder.” I take a step closer to the bed, towering over her. “If it makes you uncomfortable, we'll stop. Just tell me, and that's absolutely okay.”

She licks her lips. “Will it hurt?”

“Not if we take it slow. If we do this right, it'll feel incredible.” I gently grasp her chin and tilt her face up. “And believe me, I will do it right.”

“It's just…I've never seen a piercing like that before. I didn't even know it was a thing.”

I caress her cheek and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “All I want is to make you feel good. That's the only thing that matters.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Then why don't you get to work?”

I roll the condom on then climb onto the bed. She shifts back, making room for me between her thighs. With my gaze locked on hers, I brace myself above her.

“First time, I'll go slow. I'll check in with you, and if something doesn't feel right—you tell me,” I murmur. “Though I'm sure you're gonna fucking love it.”

Her lips twitch. “You're pretty confident…”

“You have no idea.”

With one arm, I hold myself over her and use my other hand to line up with her entrance. Slowly, I push inside an inch, then another. I stop there and examine her face. “Is this okay?”

She whispers, “Yes. Keep going…”

I roll my hips slowly, slipping in farther, taking my time so she can adjust to the sensation. When I'm almost fully in, she clings to me as if she's afraid she'll drown if she lets go.

I pinch my eyebrows together. “You okay?”

“More than okay,” she breathes. “I feel everything, all of you…and it's so good…”

Pride consumes me. I fuck her slowly and gently at first, lips on hers, my tongue moving in time with my hips. Breathing is overrated anyway. I'd much rather keep my mouth fused to hers.

The way her body responds to me is indescribable—moans and whimpers, the roll of her hips as she lets me slide deeper, her hands on my body as if she wants to memorize every inch.

“Jesus, you take me so fucking well, Ry baby,” I praise her. “So good…”

When she begs for more, I pound into her faster, my movements rougher. She moans, arching her back and taking me to the hilt.

“I've never felt this good,” she moans. “Please don't stop. I'm gonna come… Hade, please…”

Heat pools in my lower abdomen, my skin on fire. My release builds and builds, the base of my spine tingling. I clench my ass to keep myself from coming as I continue working her over. “You feel so good around me.”

“Oh God.” She trembles, eyes falling closed. “I'm coming…”

A gush of warm liquid hits me, sending my need soaring. When she comes down, I push myself up, hover over her, and grin. “You're a squirter, Ry baby.”

She stares up at me, her eyes fathomless, her breaths heavy. “I've never done that before…”

I smirk. “My win. Between that and my piercing, I've claimed two of your firsts.”

“Show-off.”

I grab her hips and slide inside her in one, rough thrust. Body arched, she closes her eyes again, her sweet moans washing over me in a way only music ever has. She plays with her nipples, squeezing and twisting them.

I fuck her hard, relish every inch of her, until my mind goes blank. When my orgasm hits, stars dance behind my eyelids. I've never felt like this. I've never been with a woman I have shared a deep level of trust with. It makes every sensation more meaningful, stronger.

Breaths labored, I drop onto the mattress beside her. “That was everything…”

She giggles. “You weren't kidding when you said I'd like the piercing.”

I roll onto my side, propping my head on my knuckles. “Do you want to eat? We kinda skipped dinner…”

She presses a hand to my chest and pushes me onto my back. “I want to eat you,” she says, looming over me. She rests her hand on my upper thigh and gives me a questioning look. “Can I?”

With a quiet laugh, I ease the condom off and tie it so it doesn't make a mess. Then, I interlace my fingers behind my head. “I'm a simple man, Ry baby. If you think I can say no⁠—”

My words are cut off abruptly when she takes my cock into her mouth.

Goddammit. In this moment, I know my life will never be the same.

Not after this.

19

that's what we agreed on

Riley

Eyes closed, I relish the feeling of soft sheets against my skin. His scent envelops me, notes of sandalwood and tobacco soothing me. I bury my face in the pillow and inhale deeply, grounding myself before facing the day.

The room is dimly lit, the curtains pulled shut. With a sigh, I roll my head to the side, only to discover his side of the bed is empty. The instant ache in my chest makes tears prick my eyes. I'd imagined waking up in his arms, our bodies tangled, lazy morning sex. Instead, I'm alone.

You're an idiot, Riley Evans. For thinking he'd still be here. For thinking I could get him out of my system like this.

I sit up and scan the room. I have no desire to slip back into the dress I wore last night. I want to soak in his scent, to prolong the moment, as ridiculous as that is. So, I snag the white T-shirt from the back of the desk chair and slip it on.

Bottom lip caught between my teeth, I thread my trembling fingers through my hair. I feel like an intruder, despite what we did last night. All my curiosity about what his bedroom looks like dissipates. I stand, not moving. Did last night really happen, or was it a figment of my imagination? If not for the ache between my thighs, I might believe it was a dream.

I press my fingers to my lips, swollen and puffy. Another reminder of our all-consuming passion. Despite my nervousness, I smile.

I had sex with Hayden Hale.

Three times, plus oral for us both.

Eight orgasms between the two of us.

I squirted twice.

And the dick piercing? It left me in awe. I worry it may have ruined me for anyone else.

Hayden fucked me senseless and then held me as I drifted off.

It was almost too good to be true.

The ding of the coffee machine pulls me out of my musings. Taking a deep breath, I collect my clothes and head to my room. I throw my things on the guest bed and head to the kitchen.

Hayden is there, standing in front of the window. His back is turned to me, his shoulders tense. As usual, he's in a pair of sweats and nothing else.

At the sound of my footsteps, he turns. “Morning,” he says, his voice casual. Almost too casual.

I shuffle into the room. “Morning.”

“If you want some coffee, I made enough for two.” He nods toward the coffeepot.

“Thanks. I'll need caffeine to get through today.”

He smiles, but it fades quickly. Fuck, the tension in the room is so thick, it's suffocating. Looks like last night didn't help us get rid of it at all.

Steeling my spine, I head for the cabinet where he keeps the mugs. He beats me to it and holds one out to me. Our fingers brush over the ceramic, sending a bolt of electricity up my arm. My heartbeat picks up its pace, jackhammering against my ribs.

He, on the other hand, doesn't even flinch. He just steps away with a murmured “sorry.”

“No, I—it's fine.” I hold the mug tightly with both hands, as if it'll keep me steady.

We fall into silence. The only sounds are the quiet hum of the fridge and the pounding of my heart.

I fill my mug then sit at the bar. Hayden saunters over, plucks a plate from the counter, and sits across from me. The actions are familiar, but after last night, nothing feels the same.

Holding my breath, I search for a topic to talk about, to break the silence, but all I can think about is last night, and the idea of bringing that up now nauseates me.

“I made this,” he says. “Nothing fancy, just avocado toast.” He nudges the plate toward me, and when I reach for a slice, our fingers nearly touch again. I panic and pull back too fast, causing the toast to flip onto the counter.

Smooth. Real smooth, Riley. My cheeks are on fire.

He chuckles under his breath, the sound throaty and way too sexy for the situation.

“This is…awkward,” I admit, picking up the toast from the counter.

“Not for me.”

Those three words hit harder than they should. I try to laugh it off, taking a bite of my toast, but it gets lodged in my throat.

He's so calm and collected, not a single crack in that perfect poker face. How can he be so unaffected? Am I really the only one who's feeling completely undone after last night?

A wave of unease hits me, making bile rise in my throat. “So, I guess we can officially check 'bad idea' off the list.”

“Yeah.” His answer is nonchalant.

I frown at him, though I can't hold eye contact, not when my brain is filled with images from last night, the words he whispered, memories of his whimpers and moans. I bite my cheek. How am I supposed to move on after all that's happened?

“We were a bit…reckless last night.”

“Yeah, we were.”

The quickness with which he agrees makes my stomach roil again.

“It was incredible.” I blow out a breath. “But…”

Please say something that will give me hope. Please…

He nods. “Yeah. But it was only once.” He crooks a smile. “Even though it was technically closer to five times.” His attempt to lighten the mood doesn't quite land.

“Uh-huh. Five times, but eight orgasms.”

“Eight?” His hand freezes over the toast plate. “Oh, you mean for both of us. You got me all confused for a second.”

“I knew you'd figure it out.” I keep my tone light. I have to let this go. Yes, I'm upset last night didn't change anything between us, but it's not fair of me to hold it against him. We agreed on one night, and that's exactly what we had. So, I put all these sad emotions in a box and stuff them into the farthest corner of my mind. I'll have my sad-girl moment later, when I'm alone.

“Any plans for today?” I ask as I pick up my toast again.

He dips his chin. “I have a meeting with the label. They want to discuss a tribute to Owen.”

Concern builds in my chest. “How do you feel about it?”

He shrugs. “Glenn has been talking about it for months. I'm glad they finally listened, but honestly, I'm not sure I can do it. It'll mean releasing stuff we've already recorded. To be in the studio without him, hearing his voice and guitar…” He sucks in a breath, head hanging low.

I cover his hand with mine. “That will be so hard, I'm sure, but I believe in you. Think about what it would mean to Ines and especially Santi.”

Eyes softening, he turns his hand over and threads his fingers through mine. The simple move sends a jolt of electricity through me. I'm so fucked up… That one night will be my undoing.

“Thank you so much, Ry. I don't know what I would've done without you after Owen's death.” He strokes his thumb over my knuckles. “You're my lifeline.”

I swallow past the lump that has suddenly formed in my throat. “Of course. I'm your friend. I'm here for you. Always.”

The butterflies have returned, fluttering in my belly. I'm tempted to punch myself in the gut to shush them. I can't react like this to him anymore. We are just friends. We will only ever be just friends.

I slowly untangle my fingers and pick up my mug. “I better finish breakfast. I have a class at ten.”

“Summer break starts in two days, right?”

I nod.

“My offer to celebrate still stands.”

“I'll think about it.” I gulp down the rest of my coffee then stand and put my dishes in the sink.

While Nastya tells me about the Broadway show Grant took her and her mother and sister to, I nod and smile, though I barely hear a word she says.

She lunges forward, nearly knocking over her coffee. “Okay, this isn't working.” Eyes narrowed, she examines me. “What happened?”

I pick at the brownie in front of me. We ordered a piece of cheesecake too, and we split them both. “What do you mean?”

“You're weirdly quiet. Like your mind is elsewhere.” She tips her head, her red hair cascading over her shoulder. “So I'm asking again: what happened?”

I lower my gaze to my hands and blow out a long breath. “Hayden and I had sex.”

She stares at me, a deep crease between her eyebrows. “And how was it?”

“It was good.” My body heats, half in embarrassment and half in response to the memories still haunting me. “More than good, actually. He was gentle at first, then rough when I needed him to be. Powerful. Confident.” I sigh. “It was the best sex of my life.”

Forearms on the table, she angles in closer. “Why do I sense a 'but' in all this?”

I lift a shoulder, spinning my coffee cup in front of me. “Because there is one. We agreed it was just one time. It won't happen again.”

She grasps my hand and squeezes. “And that's what you want?”

My heart aches—not only for Hayden, but because my friend is truly concerned for me. “That's what we agreed on.”

She sighs. “I'm happy he treated you well. You're an adult. You know what's best for you, and you know what you can and cannot handle.” She purses her lips. “Just…considering your feelings for him, please be careful. If you want more and he doesn't, then you need to leave. Please don't let him break your heart.”

I nod, my eyes filling with tears.

With a soft tut, she scoots around the table and wraps her arm around my shoulders. I lean my head against hers, sighing deeply.

What I don't say—and what she likely already knows—is that I do want more, and I set myself up for heartbreak a long time ago.

The penthouse is quiet when I step out of the elevator hours later.

But it smells like him. I close my eyes and focus on breathing.

I need to get over it. He gave me what I asked for: a night to remember, feelings I will never forget. The best sex of my life. But that's all there is to it. The moment I woke up alone in his bed, our agreement was done.

But I don't regret it.

I shower, put on a white hoodie and black leggings, then wander to the kitchen. With practiced efficiency, I throw together a pot of spaghetti. He still isn't home by the time it's ready, so I sit alone, but I've lost my appetite. His absence worries me. Is he busy or avoiding me?

When my mom calls, I'm thankful for the distraction. She's thrilled when I tell her I made Wade's spaghetti recipe.

She's changed since she met her husband. It's like he taught her how to love again. Her relationship with me, and especially with Piper, changed drastically after she and Wade started dating. She's always cared for us, but now, she's more comfortable showing it.

After the call, I clean up, tossing my uneaten spaghetti into the trash can then loading the dishwasher. Back in my room, I flop onto the bed. My mood is all over the place.

When my phone pings, I jackknife up and snatch it from the comforter.

Hade:

I ended up in the studio with Jimmy and Bo. I'll be super late, so unfortunately, no Arcane for me. Have fun.

My heart sinks. Fun? That's definitely not in the cards tonight. At least I know he's busy and not avoiding me.

Rather than Arcane, I cue up one of my favorite movies. Snuggled under the blankets with my laptop, I hit play and force myself to focus on A Walk to Remember.

All I need is a good cry.

20

today is going to be a disaster

Hayden

By some miracle, I remained cool and collected on the outside this morning while on the inside, I was obsessing over her. Over us. While I was physically in the kitchen with her, mentally, I was in my bedroom, tangled up with her in my sheets, surrounded by her scent, her taste, her sounds.

Just once…yeah, right. As if I don't want to do it all over again and again and again.

But I agreed it could only happen once.

What's going on in my head, I honestly have no clue.

After my shower, in my bedroom, all I see is Riley. Her blonde hair spilled over my pillow, her quiet breathing, her body pressed to mine like she belongs there.

“Pull yourself together. Stop thinking with your dick,” I hiss.

I slap my cheeks, willing myself to snap out of it and get dressed. Then, I force myself to leave my bedroom without looking back. Wyatt is already waiting for me downstairs.

The meeting is even more exhausting than I thought it would be. Glenn facilitates, discussing the details with the executives. Jimmy and Bo reminisce about Owen, how he joined the band right before our breakout, how much he meant to all of us, to Sabotage and our fans.

I sit with my fists clenched under the desk, my leg bouncing. From time to time, I speak, adding context to their stories, because that's what's expected of me. The label wants us to put out a tribute album with unreleased music we recorded before we lost Owen. All I want is to fucking hide until I feel like myself again.

None of it will bring him back. Not the music, not the songs, not the album.

“What do you think?” Glenn fixes his gaze on me, one eyebrow arched. “Have time to go to the studio today?”

No. “Sure. Why not?”

Every person around the table looks relieved. It's like they thought I would say no. The break was my idea, after all. At first, we kept going.

I'd hoped I could find the cure to my grief in our music, but two months after Owen's death, I went into the studio and broke down. I couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't even hear. When I finally came back to reality, I smashed a guitar then ran to the restroom, where I put my fist through a mirror.

The small scar on my left hand is a constant reminder of that day. Everyone was so understanding, but I was disgusted with myself. Ashamed. I talked to Glenn, then to Jimmy and Bo. I told them all I needed was a break. I couldn't be in the studio, couldn't continue playing.

Making music had lost its appeal. Every time I brushed my fingers over guitar strings or piano keys, all I could see was my friend in that hotel room. That's why I know today will be a disaster.

In the studio, I hide in a corner and listen to song after song. I close my eyes and imagine Owen standing on the other side of the glass, singing and playing his parts.

I'm dying on the inside. This is too much.

Bo swivels in his chair. “This one is particularly good, don't you think?”

“Yeah, it is,” I agree. “Though we'll need to rerecord some of the guitar beats and maybe the last chorus.”

Lips pursed, he nods. “You're right.”

When silence falls over us, I relish it.

But I only get a second of peace before Jimmy pipes up. “It feels good to be back in the studio. Therapeutic, even.” He glances between Bo and me. “I miss it.”

“Me too,” Bo says.

I don't. I'm useless here. I can't write music or lyrics. I'm just a voice, and I don't even enjoy that anymore.

“What about you?” Jimmy asks me.

Irritation festers under my skin. Isn't it clear I don't want to talk about it?

“I need more time.” I look at my feet. “Music isn't a cure for me anymore. I don't feel anything when I play.”

“Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up.” Jimmy rakes a hand through his hair, frowning. “Has anyone heard from Ines? I called her a few times to check on her and Santi, but the conversations were short. I don't think she was all that happy to hear from me.”

“Same.” Bo shrugs. “She was never really fond of us, so I'm not surprised.”

“You're wrong. She loves Sabotage, and she respects all of us.” I clasp my hands together to hide the way they tremble. “Ever think about showing up rather than just calling occasionally? Or dropping something off for Santi instead of halfheartedly asking what she needs? She lost her husband, her son's father.” My eyes burn, but I refuse to cry. “The person she loved.

She's all alone. She needs actions, not words.”

“I didn't want to trouble her,” Bo says, his lips tugged down in a frown.

“And what do you mean she's all alone? Owen's parents suggested she move to L.A to be closer to them. She could have their support if she wanted it.” Jimmy eyes me from under his furrowed brow.

I sigh. It's not their fault they don't understand Ines' relationship with Owen's mom, but it's not my place to explain it to them either.

“New York is their home. Owen and Ines chose to build their life here, just like the rest of us did. Why would she want to leave?” I huff, standing. “I need a moment. Sorry.”

“Hade?” Glenn calls as I storm out.

I don't turn around. I don't reply. My mood is in fucking shambles.

We don't talk about what caused my outburst, and no one brings up Ines again. For the next few hours, we focus on music. We even laugh a few times, reminiscing about the good old days.

Once the guys leave and I'm alone, I listen to the songs until I don't hear music anymore, until I can't make out a single word. My head is filled with noise, memories imprinted in my brain. Owen making me listen to “Need You Now,” the first track he wrote for Sabotage. The four of us on stage in London the first time we played it for our fans. Meeting Ines. His whispered confession that he thought she was the one.

Partying after shows. His gloomy moods toward the end. The morning I found him. His funeral.

The kaleidoscope of images makes my chest burn. I drop to the floor and sit with my back against the wall, one hand pressed over my heart, willing the pain to subside.

It doesn't.

And I don't know if it ever will.

Instead of heading home, I go to the bar below the studio. The owner, a guy with a bushy mustache named Emmett, recognizes me right away. He keeps the drinks coming, just like he used to when Owen and I would come in after recording sessions.

Not a day goes by that I don't miss my friend. Nothing is the same without him. The world is dull and colorless. Years ago, when I struggled to write music, I still found joy in playing. Losing myself in the guitar or the piano was the best medicine for my problems. Now? It feels like a fucking curse.

I down another drink. Alcohol does nothing to improve my mood, but it quiets the voices in my head.

“Been a while, Hade.”

At the sound of the familiar voice, my muscles lock up, and a wave of nausea rolls through me.

I come face-to-face with my former dealer, the man I bought from back when I partied nonstop. Like a ghost from my past, ready to kick me when I'm down, when I'm too tired to resist, Kyle saunters over.

He slides onto the stool beside me. “How are you?”

Anger bubbles up inside me, making my gut churn. “What do you want?”

“Just wanted to see how my old friend is doing.”

I scowl. “I'm not your friend.”

His responding chuckle makes the hair on the back of my neck stand.

“Everyone who's ever bought from me is my friend. Sorry about Owen, by the way. He was very talented.”

I ball my fists, my vision blurring. “Thanks.”

Head tilted, Kyle watches me. “Anything I can help you with? Maybe something to lighten your mood? Grief can be consuming.”

As drunk and despondent as I am, an escape is tempting, but I shake my head. “I'm done with all that.”

“Whatever you want, mate.” He pats me on the shoulder and wanders away.

As I watch him leave, I realize how packed the bar is. I've been so lost in my own head, I didn't notice how many people had filtered in. I shouldn't be here. The last thing I need is the paps catching me stumbling out of here.

I pay my tab and exit carefully, trying not to trip over myself. Wyatt spots me right away and hops out of the car so he can help me into the back seat. He never asks questions, never lectures me. He just lets me be and takes me where I need to go.

When I step out of the elevator at my penthouse, the whole place is dark. Good. It's after one, and I don't want her to see me like this.

Drunk. Broken. Useless.

I head to my bedroom, my hand on the wall for balance as the world swims. I pause at Riley's partially open door and peer in.

When I find her fast asleep, a wave of memories from last night hits me.

Her lips. Her skin. Her voice.

Her sweet moans and my name spilling from her mouth.

My fingers in her hair.

Her nipples in my mouth.

The taste of her on my tongue.

Last night was perfect, raw and real.

I haven't felt that good, that connected to myself and another person, in a very long time, if fucking ever. No woman has ever felt as good in my arms as Riley.

She fell asleep with her head slotted under my chin, her warmth comforting me as I drifted off. For the first time since Owen's death, I didn't want morning to come. I wanted to revel in the moment.

Now, she's on her right side, blanket tucked between her thighs, hair in a braid.

She looks so damn peaceful. Fuck, what I wouldn't give to join her.

All I want is to step into her room, climb into her bed, and hold her until morning comes.

To soak in her warmth so I can feel alive again.

But that would be unfair to her. It would break the promise I made.

Last night was a fucking dream come true, but it can't happen again.

So, I slowly pull her door closed and head to my room, hoping the quiet will seep into me and filter out the noise.

21

the last last time

Hayden

I wake up at noon, my head pounding, and drag myself to the shower. The cold water brings a little relief, and when I finally make it to the kitchen, I feel a bit more like me.

I have a quick breakfast, chug a cup of coffee, and pop some aspirin.

Riley isn't home, and her absence makes my loneliness more prickly, more tangible. She's only been here a week, and already, I've gotten attached to having breakfast with her. What will I do once she leaves? The thought of her being gone makes my gut churn.

I'm climbing into the car, heading to the grocery store, when Ines calls.

“Hey. What's up?”

The sound of her sniffling is like a slap upside my head.

I tense, my grip on the phone tightening. “Ines? What's wrong?”

“Is it true?”

Frowning, I turn the key in the ignition. “What are you talking about?”

“Is it true you're going to release a new album? Songs using…Ow-Owen's voice?” She sniffles again. “I saw the article.”

My stomach plummets. The project wasn't supposed to be public knowledge.

I rub a hand down my face. “We met with the label yesterday. We discussed it, but that's all for now,” I tell her. “I figured I'd mention it the next time I visited. I'm so sorry you found out like that. It was never my intention.”

“I-I know. I just didn't expect it, and it sent me spiraling.” She takes a deep breath. “God, you probably think I'm an idiot.”

“Never.” My chest aches for this woman. “And don't ever call yourself that. Grief is complex. You never know when and how it will hit.”

“Thank you so much, Hade. I have no idea what I'd do without you.”

I force my shoulders to relax and rest my head against the seat. “How is Santi? I have a surprise for him.”

“He's fine. Every day, he gets better at driving me batty.” She chuckles. “He's always thrilled to see you, you know, with and without surprises. He loves when his tío plays with him.”

Before long, Santi is begging for her attention, so we end the call. With a deep breath, I pull up the web browser on my phone and type “Sabotage new album” into the search bar. When the results pop up, I click on the first one and read. Every line is like a knife to my heart.

Left too soon…

The talent we'll never get back…

Insiders claim the album will contain two songs written by Owen…

The article includes several pictures of the band and one of Owen and me on stage in Paris. We stand back to back, playing guitars, huge smiles on our faces. The longer I stare at the screen, the heavier my heart becomes.

Barely aware of what I'm doing, I climb out and rush back inside. The elevator climbs fast but not fast enough. Everything hurts. Images of Owen taunt me, memories washing over me like an avalanche.

I stagger out of the elevator, tears blurring my vision. I tear off my T-shirt and throw it on the floor. In the kitchen, I sink to the tile, back pressed to the cupboard, and stare at the island cabinets in front of me. Fuck, I would've loved to turn my thoughts off, even for only a few minutes. Instead, they blare loudly, taking over all my senses.

When the elevator dings, I'm still on the kitchen floor. I don't know how long I've been here, though my heartbeat has mostly returned to normal, thanks to a breathing exercise I used to collect myself. I'm in desperate need of a better distraction, something to push away the dark, oppressive thoughts swirling inside my head.

“Hade?” Riley calls.

“In the kitchen.” The words come out raspy and quiet, so I clear my throat and try again. “I'm in the kitchen.”

Her steps grow louder, and then she's there, standing above me with concern etched onto her face. “What's wrong?”

I'm too busy drinking her in to reply right away. Her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head. She's wearing a white off-the-shoulder crop top and blue jeans. She's beautiful. She always is.

“Hey, what's wrong?” She crouches in front of me, her hands on my knees for balance.

“Someone leaked the news about the new album. Ines found out through a gossip blog instead of hearing it from me like I'd planned. She freaked out, called me in tears. After I calmed her down, I looked up the article myself.” I drop my head and lace my fingers behind my neck. “Then, I lost it. It's a good thing I was in the parking garage when I did.”

She squeezes my knee. “Feeling any better now?”

“A bit.” I lick my dry lips. “But I need a distraction. I'm fucking desperate for it. I'm falling apart, Ry…” I shake my head. “Could we go somewhere? Anywhere?”

She assesses me, her blue eyes depthless. Then, her lips are on mine. Slow, careful. Tentative. But once I kiss her back—it's fireworks. My desire for her transforms into an all-consuming hunger.

I pull her closer, her skin scorching under my touch. “I don't think I can stop,” I whisper. “Not when you're around…”

“Then don't stop,” she breathes, fingers sneaking to my waistband.

Then, we're both naked, our clothes scattered across the floor, the condom from my wallet in her hand.

When she rolls it down my length, I worry I'll lose it and come too soon. Once it's in place, I rub circles around her clit. With her lips on mine, she climbs on top of me, hovering over my cock. I keep caressing her clit, preparing her for me.

“I'm gonna come if you don't stop now,” she breathes. “And I don't want to come until you're inside me.”

Music to my fucking ears.

I grip my shaft, holding steady as she lowers herself, taking me inch by inch. When I'm balls deep, her hands on my shoulders, her tight heat engulfing me, I close my eyes. It's heaven.

“I'm so full…” She moans. “And your ladder with this angle… I don't think I'll last long…”

She rides me slowly, rolling her hips, her lips parted, whimpers springing from her mouth.

“Just like that, Ry baby. Ride me senseless… Take what you need…”

I palm her tits, caressing them gently at first then squeezing. Her breathing quickens each time I tug on her nipple. When I twist and pull harder, her eyes flutter shut, and she moans.

A violent shudder courses through her body, and she comes, clenching around me so hard, my vision blurs. It takes everything in me not to come while she rides out her orgasm.

Then, she slumps against me. “Oh my fucking God…”

“I love discovering new things about your body.” I press my lips to her neck, licking and sucking her skin. “You have very sensitive tits.”

Forehead on mine, she breathes heavy. “I guess that's another win for you. Nipple play has never sent me over the edge like that during sex. Only when I touch myself…”

“And how often do you touch yourself?”

“Depends on my mood. Sometimes every day. Sometimes, I can go weeks without it.”

“Pretty sure I'd do just about anything for a chance to see you pleasure yourself.” I tuck loose strands of hair behind her ears.

“Maybe one day, you will.”

“I look forward to it, Ry baby.”

I bring my lips to hers. The kiss is slow, sensual, and the heat in my lower abdomen increases with each twist of her tongue around mine.

I rear back, my eyes searching hers. “Ready to continue?”

She nods.

“Then stand,” I order her.

She obeys, taking a step back to give me room to stand too. Once I'm on my feet, I pull her to me and ravage her mouth again. Then, I spin her around and bend her over the island.

“Ass up.” I smack her ass cheek lightly.

She spreads her legs wide and tilts her hips to give me better access.

Fuck. Her eagerness sends a thrill through me. With my hand on her shoulder, I pin her down before I drive into her in one, hard thrust.

“So fucking good…” I exhale. “So fucking perfect.”

I find my rhythm, relishing the way her warm channel swallows me. She moans and whimpers, my name rolling off her lips over and over.

I slip my hand around her hip and find her clit. Instantly, her walls tighten around me, my release building at breakneck speed. My movements become more frantic, my breathing shallow as I lose myself in her and in this moment.

“You're taking me so well…”

“More,” she begs.

I gladly give her what she wants. I pick up my pace and pinch her clit. When her pussy clenches around me again, it triggers my own orgasm.

She comes screaming my name, and a wave of heat rushes over me as I come in violent spurts. I spill myself inside the condom while she rides out her second orgasm.

Once I've cleaned us up, I gather Riley in my arms. She wraps her legs around me, hands on my shoulders, and I carry her to my room.

“What are we going to do now?” she asks.

“Shower.” I head straight for the ensuite. “And then more sex. More orgasms until I tire you out and you fall asleep in my bed.”

Her lips tip up sweetly. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

“Anything for you, Ry baby.” I place her on her feet and turn on the faucet.

She quirks a brow. “So will this be our last time?”

With a snort, I pull her against me. “Of course. The last last time.”

Under the shower spray, our lips meet, and the world around us disappears. The only sounds now are her moans and the slapping of skin.

This last time is turning into another night neither of us will forget.

22

good girl

Hayden

If it weren't for Riley's grumbling stomach, we probably wouldn't have left my room at all. We fucked in the kitchen after she got home, then in the shower, then I went down on her in my bed. My racing thoughts went quiet, giving me a distraction from the suffocating grief. It won't last, and losing myself in her won't magically heal me, but I'm grateful for the little relief I've been granted.

The room is dark as we lie together on the couch, watching Arcane, the only source of light is the T.V.

Once the new episode starts, I hit pause and stand. “Wanna drink something? Or maybe some snacks?”

She gives me a soft smile. “No, thanks. I'm full.”

“Okay.” I head into the kitchen for a glass of water, and when I return my eyes land on Riley, and I hesitate at the threshold. She's typing on her phone; she hasn't noticed me yet. Her hair is still damp from the shower and curling slightly. She's in my T-shirt and a pair of panties, and knowing that makes my dick twitch.

I clench my jaw and chide myself silently. Haven't I had enough orgasms already?

There's no such thing as enough orgasms, my inner voice deadpans.

Great. I'm losing it.

With a shake of my head, I stroll to the couch. As I drop to the cushion beside her, Riley locks her phone and tosses it to the coffee table. Then she reaches for the remote and hits play.

The show is amazing. Great plot, great soundtrack. I should be paying attention.

But tonight I find my mind drifting back to my moment with Riley, my thoughts stuck on how she kissed me when I begged her for a distraction. How she moved on top of me on the kitchen floor. How she lost herself with me. I couldn't get enough of her. I still can't. The way I want her is fucking insane.

And that's a huge fucking problem.

She's my best friend's little sister.

She crushed on me for years.

This is wrong. She deserves better.

But it's fucking impossible to listen to that voice of wisdom when she's sitting inches away from me, her caramel scent wafting around her.

The right thing to do would be to get my ass out of this room, but⁠—

“Is everything okay?”

Riley's soft voice startles me. Blinking, I turn to her and discover she's staring at me. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if everything's okay. You were talking to yourself.”

Breath hitching, I run a hand through my hair. Dammit. I need to get a grip.

I press my lips together, then let them part. “Come here.” The words come out low. Rough.

She tilts her head, hair sliding over her shoulder, but she doesn't move.

My chest deflates. Maybe that's for the best. Maybe she should leave.

Even as I think it'd be in her best interest to get out of here, I hold my hand out to her. “Come here.”

This time, it's not a request.

She places her hand in mine, the feel of her soft skin lighting me up inside.

“You should go,” I tell her.

“Then let go of me.”

I should. But I can't. It's like asking a starving man to give up on his last meal.

I clench my jaw. “Ry, if you stay, I'll lose whatever control I've got left.”

“I know.” She lifts a shoulder in a shrug.

My gut twists. “Riley…”

A small smile curves her lips. “Hade.”

I zero in on her mouth. “This is a bad idea.”

She arches a brow in challenge. “Then tell me to leave. It's that simple.”

My heart thunders, blood rushing in my ears. I know what I should do, but…fuck it.

I tug on her hand, pulling her to me, and she eagerly climbs into my lap.

The moment she feels my hardness under her, she lets out a long sigh.

Fuck. That sound sends a thrill through me. If she's gonna make noises like that, I have no hope of resisting her.

With a hand on the back of her neck, I fuse my mouth to hers. An electric current strikes my heart, spreading warmth all over my skin. There's nothing gentle about the way I kiss her, sucking and nibbling on her bottom lip until she whimpers.

“Jesus, Ry…” I press my lips to her throat, caressing her skin with my tongue. “I can't resist you.”

She moans. “You don't need to.”

I lean away and grip the hem of her tee, and she quickly lifts her arms to make the task easier. It lands on the floor, and I dive in, taking her pebbled nipple into my mouth. I curl my tongue around the peak, suck it into my mouth, and then release it with a pop.

She arches her back, her breaths coming quick.

I do it again, and this time when I release her, she gets to her feet and peers down at me.

My chest rises and falls rapidly as I hold her gaze and wait for her next move.

Without looking away, she pushes her panties down, then steps out of them.

My mouth waters at the sight of her completely bare for me.

Before I can pull her back to my lap, she kneels in front of me, settling between my legs.

Fuck. I swear my vision goes hazy, and I haven't even taken my dick out of my sweatpants yet. She slides her hands up my thighs and cups me through the fabric, and my eyes roll back in my head.

Silently, I lift my hips and she tugs the pants down, stripping me down so I'm as naked as she is.

With a smile, she wraps her hand around my shaft and gives it a long stroke. Then without a word, she takes my crown into her mouth and sucks. She repeats the motion again and again, sucking and then releasing me while she continues pumping my shaft. The heat forming in my lower abdomen pushes me to thrust into her mouth. She lets me, taking me deeper with each lift of my hips.

When she gags, I ease up, but she only leans in more and takes me deeper, watery eyes locked on my face. So I thrust again, and this time when she gags, the sound is followed by a moan. Because while she gives me probably the best blowjob of my life, she plays with her clit as well.

Chest heaving, she leans away, catching her breath, her lips swollen and saliva on her chin. Her forehead is covered in sweat, her blue hair sticking to it. She's the most beautiful girl I've seen.

I hold out my hand to her and help her to her feet.

“Where do you keep the condoms?” she asks.

“The nightstand.”

With a nod, she pads out of the room. When she returns she tosses a handful of condoms on the coffee table. With one foil packet pinched between her fingers, she climbs onto the couch, her knees on either side of me.

I take the condom from her, tear the wrapper and roll it down my shaft. With her hands on my shoulders, she lowers herself onto my cock slowly.

“One, two, three,” she counts as she takes me deeper. Then she hoists herself up and hovers over me. “Your barbells are everything… I really think you've ruined me for everyone else.”

A hot wave of possessiveness rolls through me. I cuff her throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Good.”

Her eyes flare, but she doesn't respond. Then she's lowering herself onto my dick once again. “One, two…three, four…” She repeats the process, easing up until my crown is at her entrance, then sliding down. “One…two…three…four…five…oh my God, Hade…six.”

“Holy shit, Ry…” I groan, closing my eyes.

Her warm, wet pussy is heaven. With every move she makes, electricity arcs through me. I'm fucking losing my mind from how good she feels around me.

She rides me slow and deep, her hips rolling and circling, adding more friction, nearly shorting out my very overstimulated brain. Her moans and whimpers merge with my groans, filling the room, the sound accompanied by the slapping of our skin.

“I'm so close…” She lets out a moan.

With my hands on her hips, I guide her up and down my shaft faster.

Eyes closed, she chases her orgasm, riding me with abandon. Her body is covered in sweat, her hair in total disarray, and the most beautiful blush creeps over her cheeks as she gets closer to her release.

With a sharp breath in, she cups my face and covers my lips with hers. She comes like that, her moans muffled by our mouths. Her pussy squeezes me, each pulse so intense it makes my vision blur.

I keep up my rhythm, drawing out her orgasm. When her sounds die down and she's panting for breath, I surge to my feet, keeping the two of us connected, then turn and lower her onto her back.

I tower over her, eyes blazing into hers. “Lie on your stomach.”

She does as I tell her without a question.

“Arch for me.” I slap her ass cheek.

When she's where I want her, I put one knee on the couch and keep the other foot firmly planted on the floor. Then in one thrust, I seat myself fully.

“Hade…” she moans into the cushions.

I start slow and steady, returning to the pace she set before her release. Hovering over here like this, with her ass in the air, I slide into her at an angle immediately sending her reeling again. Her moans are louder this time, her fingers digging into the couch cushions as she spasms around me. She's barely come down, sucking in lungfuls of air, before another orgasm rolls through her. Fuck. She's having multiple orgasms, her body getting no time to settle before another wave of pleasure hits her again.

“Oh my God…” she whimpers, as another powerful shudder rolls through her body. “That's four. Hayden, I can't…”

“You can…” I plant both knees on the couch, and clutch her hips. I stab into her harder, again and again, my spine tingling and waves of need crashing over me. “Give me more, Ry baby.”

Her voice high pitches, as she comes for the fifth time. She screams my name as she claws at the couch.

When this orgasm fades, I pull back and she instantly lowers her ass.

It's kind of sweet that she thinks I'm done with her.

With my hands around her waist, I flip her onto her back. Her hair is splayed out around her, her eyes clouded as I nestle between her legs and enter her again, then rest one of her calves on my shoulder, then the other. I slam into her again, and almost instantly, her pussy pulses around my dick.

“Oh G-God…” She moans, arching her back. “Hayden, please…I can't…”

She says it, but with how she lifts her hips to meet me halfway, I don't think she means it. So I only double my efforts, fucking her harder.

Then as another wave of orgasm wrecks her body, I pull away.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Her voice cracks.

Angling forward, I smirk. “Didn't you want me to stop?”

“No.”

I chuckle. “Are you sure? I swear you said 'I can't.'”

“No. Please… More…”

“Good girl,” I murmur, slapping her pussy lightly.

“More…” she pants, arching under me.

With a smile, I slap her pussy again, then tighten my grip on her hips and pull her back into me. I'm gone.

Nothing has ever felt so good, but in this moment, all I care about is the way her body reacts, the way she falls apart when I touch her. Keeping her there. Giving her more.

Because at this point, Riley Evans is the only thing that matters.

23

for now

Riley

He holds me tight against his chest, as if he's afraid to let me go.

I inhale, my head spinning. This morning, his sheets don't smell only like him—they're full of my scent too.

I snuggle into him, grinding my ass against his groin. The hard outline of his cock brings heat to my cheeks. I thought our first time was perfect, but yesterday knocked it out of the park. The things he can do with his tongue, his fingers, and especially his pierced dick blew my mind. This time, I lost count of how many orgasms he gave me—in the kitchen, in the shower, on the couch, in his bed.

“Morning.” His raspy whisper sends shivers down my spine.

“How did you know I was awake?”

“I can hear your thoughts.” He plants a kiss in my hair. “What time do you need to be at the studio?”

“Eleven. Today's the last day of the semester.”

“When are you going home?” His voice cracks on the last word.

A weird twinge pierces my heart. Is it possible he doesn't want me to leave?

“Are we talking about me going back to my apartment, or to L.A?”

“L.A.”

“I leave on Saturday morning.”

“Two days,” he mutters. “And you'll be gone for a month.”

I sigh. “Yeah.”

He flips me onto my back and hovers over me, his hair a wild mess. “But what about your apartment? You don't need to stay to make sure they clean it correctly?”

This man has always made my heart sing. Even with his disheveled hair and sleepy eyes, he's still the most handsome man I've ever seen.

At this point, the chances of my crush going away are nonexistent.

“Nastya promised to help.” I cup his cheek, caressing his skin. “She'll check on the place once the work is done.”

He arches a brow. “Why didn't you ask me? I don't have plans to go anywhere this summer.”

“I didn't want to bother you.” And because I can't predict what kind of mood he'll be in.

“Or you don't think I'm reliable.” He rolls away and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Hayden…” I prop myself up on my elbows, heart squeezing painfully.

He puts his sweatpants on. Then, he turns, face unreadable, and says, “What do you want for breakfast?”

“A coffee and some avocado toast would be great. I bought⁠—”

“I know.” With that, he storms out of the room.

Once the door is closed, I bury my face in his pillow and scream. This morning was perfect, yet the day hasn't even begun and it's already fallen apart.

My day is torturous. Physically, I'm at the dance studio, but my mind is still in Hayden's penthouse.

After he put the walls between us this morning, the flicker of hope I had that there could be an us died. Though what did I really expect? He needed a distraction from his breakdown, and instead of giving him moral support, I let him fuck me for hours.

The award for the most idiotic person alive will no doubt go to me.

But as my ten-year-olds leave, happily chatting with one another, warmth spreads through me. They are so full of life and dreams.

I wipe sweat from my brow and head to my desk to check the time.

“Have you packed for California?”

I glance over my shoulder at Nastya. She wanders into the room, dressed in black leggings and a one-shoulder crop top, a bottle of water in her hand.

“Haven't even started.” I give her a small smile. “I'm going to stop by my apartment tonight to collect more things.”

She lowers herself onto the floor. Back straight, she crosses her legs and peers up at me. “Are you ready to go home?” she asks.

With a sigh, I join her. “Yes…and no.”

“Why not? You've been talking my ear off about this trip for weeks. What changed?”

I chew on my cheek, weighing my options. It only takes me a moment to decide to come clean. “I did it again.”

“Did what again?”

“I had sex with Hayden.”

She straightens her legs and starts stretching. I wait, knowing she won't keep quiet for long.

“And what did you agree on this time? That it was just this once one more time?”

I shrug. “Kind of.”

“Riley…”

My heart sinks. “You don't understand. Sex with him isn't just sex. It's everything.” I press my hand to my chest to stave off the sensation that I can't breathe. “It's incredible. I've never felt this way before, not with anyone.

The only other time I feel so alive is when I lose myself in dance.” I close my eyes, emotions overwhelming me, tears threatening to spill. “Just me and the stage. That's how I feel with him.”

When I open my eyes again, my strong, rational best friend's face is tearstained. It breaks me. She knows the feeling all too well. She misses dancing as much as I do. Her decision to quit was based on physical trauma while mine was emotional, but we miss the stage all the same.

“Do what you think is right,” she whispers, swiping at her cheeks. “I'll always be here for you, in happiness and in heartbreak.”

I slip closer and wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her to me. “I'm so lucky you've stuck with me this long.”

“Glad you feel that way, because I plan to be with you always, even in the afterlife.”

I chuckle, leaning away. “Do you think we'll find ourselves in heaven?”

“With our lifestyles?” she asks, smiling teasingly. “We'll be lucky if we get a place in hell.”

When I finally get to Hayden's place with everything I plan to take with me to L.A, it's after eight. The sound of a guitar halts me in my tracks. The tune is quiet, almost uncertain, but still—he's playing.

I set my duffel bag on the floor in the foyer and tiptoe toward the sound. He's on the couch, wearing a pair of sweatpants, fingers slowly moving over the frets. As I step closer, he looks up, and a rare bright smile lights up his face.

“It's the first time since…” He sighs and drops his focus to the instrument again.

He doesn't have to finish the sentence. I understand.

I sit beside him and put my head on his shoulder. “It's good. It's important for you.”

“I'm sorry about this morning,” he whispers. “I acted like a child who doesn't know how to regulate his emotions. It wasn't fair to you.”

“You're forgiven, and thank you for saying that.” I move away but turn to find him already watching me. “I didn't ask you to check on my apartment because I didn't want to bother you…in case you weren't in the mood to get out. I didn't want you to feel obligated.”

“I understand.” He licks his lips. “The truth is…I'm not a very reliable person right now, so I don't blame you.”

My heart stutters. “You're wrong. Look at all the good you're doing for Ines and Santi. You're reliable for them.”

“And I am for you.” He swallows audibly, his Adam's apple moving up and down. Then, he sets his guitar on the coffee table and faces me. “It doesn't matter what mood I'm in; I'd do anything for you. Just tell me you need me, and I'll fucking cross all of New York to get to you.”

I need you now.

I need you always.

That's what I want to say. Instead, I stick with a topic that will help me make it through my vacation. I need to understand who we are to each other.

“I was always jealous of your friendship with Piper, how supportive you were of each other. I wanted that too.” I take a deep breath. “I'm glad I can call you my friend now too.”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “I'm glad you're my friend too, Ry baby.” He takes my hand and twines his fingers with mine. “You're always welcome here. Even after your apartment is fixed, you can stay any time. When you're here, this place feels like home, not just a soulless cavern.”

“Is it because you like my company? Or my cooking?” I ponder. “Or is it because our 'just once' sex was too good?”

“All of it,” he says without hesitation. “Though I think our 'just once' sex should stay in the past.”

My stupid heart drops to the floor. Head lowered, I avoid his gaze. It hurts more than I prepared myself for.

“Ry, look at me, please.” He takes my chin between his fingers and tilts my face up, making me look him in the eye. “I owe you honesty, so here it is. I think it should stay in the past for now. You've known me your whole life, and you know I'm not my usual self right now. The grief I'm carrying, my guilt…some days, it's too much.

I don't want to drag you into my mess.” He presses his forehead to mine and inhales, closing his eyes. “I need to get better. If we ever decide to be more than friends, I need to be worthy of you first. Just give me time.”

The butterflies in my stomach let loose again, though I can't ignore the mention of his guilt. I won't ask him about it now. I'll give him more time to heal.

“Of course,” I say quietly. “We'll never know if we can make it work unless we try, but we both need to be ready.”

“Thank you for being so understanding.” He kisses my forehead. “I promise to put in the effort.”

My heart floats, but for now, I change the subject, ready to lighten the mood. “Wanna watch Arcane?”

“I'd love to.” He drapes an arm around my shoulders and tucks me into his side.

Hayden and I talked the whole way to the airport, but after I checked in, we fell into silence. Now, as we stand together near the T.S.A line, awkwardness washes over me.

Needing something to do with my hands, I pull out my phone and check the time. “Well, I'd better go.”

“Take care, Ry.” He waves awkwardly, a strained smile on his face.

“You too.” I step closer and press my lips to his cheek. His scent slams into me, weakening my knees. “See you in a month.”

His lips spread wider, his smile more genuine. “See you.”

I leave without looking back. If I do, I'm afraid I won't have the strength to get on the plane.

24

i made a mistake

Hayden

Lil'Ballerina:

Hudson misses his favorite uncle.

The next message contains a picture of my five-year-old nephew with the mini electric guitar I gave him last Christmas.

Me:

I miss him too.

With a long exhale, I rap my fingers over the steering wheel and consider sending a second message.

Me:

And I miss you.

She's been in California for close to a month and a half. She'd planned to return two weeks ago, but when her dad had an emergency appendectomy and needed help, she extended the trip.

Since she's been gone, a part of me has been missing. She doesn't know I spend most days locked in my penthouse, ordering takeout and barely functioning. The only exceptions are the days I'm in the studio working on the album, or when I spend time with Santi and Ines. I don't want to worry her, just like I don't want to worry Hunter and Piper. So, I put on a smile and power through the day.

Lil'Ballerina:

I think I broke something in you. You're way too sappy with me.

Lil'Ballerina:

I miss you too.

Me:

When is your flight home?

Lil'Ballerina:

I haven't decided yet. Once I buy a ticket, I'll let you know.

Me:

Good. I'm off to Ines'. Talk later.

Lil'Ballerina:

Have fun.

I climb out of the car and slip my phone into my pocket, squinting to keep the glaring sun out of my eyes. I'd give just about anything for a rainy day. This mid-July heat is overwhelming.

With a new lego duplo set under my arm, I head up to Ines' apartment. Santi will start preschool in September, so Ines is planning to go back to work. It's a relief, seeing her life ease its way back into some semblance of normal. Though with the way I keep my pain to myself, there's no guarantee she isn't doing the same.

The moment Ines opens the door, I know something isn't right. Her posture is tense, her lips pursed into a tight line.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Come on in.” She steps aside, her expression tired.

“Is everything okay?” I take off my sneakers and straighten, catching her worried gaze.

She sighs. “Santi has a fever and a sore throat.”

“Should I leave?”

“No, no, no. Please stay,” she says. “He loves you. Maybe you can distract him. Cheer him up.”

I give her a small smile. “I'll do my best.”

She loops her arms around my waist, hiding her face in the crook of my neck. “Thank you, Hade.”

I hug her back with one arm, still clutching the lego box with the other. “Stop saying thank you. I'm here for you and Santi, no matter what you need. Always.”

She holds on a little too long, so I gently untangle myself and give her an awkward smile.

“Where's the little patient? Uncle Hayden has come to the rescue.”

A burst of laughter escapes her. “He's in his bedroom. He'll be ecstatic to see you.”

With a nod, I follow her down the hallway. If I can make the little dude feel better, I'll count it as a win.

Around nine, I find myself on the floor next to Santi's bed, rubbing his back. He felt good most of the day, playing and watching Bluey and begging me to read to him. Ines worked through her to-do list while I kept him occupied. She even went to the store for more meds.

But at eight, his fever returned. I did my best to distract him until the fever-reducer kicked in, and his temperature was hovering around a hundred degrees the last time we checked.

“You're like a magician.” Ines stands by the door, arms folded over her chest. “He's never taken medicine from me that easily.”

I give her a smile. I'm happy I can be there for them. On days like this, I don't feel like a waste of space.

I stand and touch his forehead with the back of my hand again, satisfied when he only feels a little warm.

“Do you want a drink? Or maybe something to eat?” she asks quietly as I step out into the hall.

“Nah. I'm still full. Dinner was incredible.” I ease the door shut behind me. “I better go home.”

Rather than back away or head down the hall, she searches my face, her lips parted.

My heart thrashes inside my chest, and an intense shudder rushes through me when I notice how large her pupils are.

She stands on her tiptoes in slow motion, but I'm frozen, confused. As she moves in closer, instinct finally kicks in, and I turn my head so her mouth lands on my cheek.

My chest tightens. I don't look at Ines in a romantic way, and honestly, I've never gotten that vibe from her either. It's not us. This is about loneliness, the type of thing that happens when a person's whole world crumbles. It's grief trying to find something to latch onto.

When we're grieving, we often make bad choices. It's human nature.

She takes an abrupt step back, and the flicker in her eyes tells me I'm right. The desperate look on her face has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the gaping hole Owen left behind.

Hands covering her face, she whispers, “I'm sorry. I-I don't know what came over me. I…I shouldn't have done that. I'm just so lonely and…”

With a deep sigh, I wrap my arms around her shoulders and hold her. She hides her face in my chest, silent tears racking her body. It guts me to see Ines so upset. Owen's death left a crater in the chest of everyone who loved him, but especially her. Time doesn't heal; it just teaches a person how to live with that empty space.

“That's okay,” I tell her. “You're tired. Santi doesn't feel well. And with Owen gone…I get it. I don't hold it against you. You and your little man are too important to me.”

She sniffles, clinging to me, clutching my tee. As I hold her, trying my damnedest to comfort her, a thought niggles in the back of my mind.

What if I'm no better? What if I gave in to temptation with Riley because I was trying to fill the emptiness? Because I was lonely? What if I used her to dull my grief?

On the way home, all I think about is Riley. Before she left, I gave her hope we could one day be more. I made her believe that once I get my shit together, there's a chance we could try a relationship. In that moment, I was sure that what I felt for her was real. That the way she makes the air around me lighter meant our connection was true. That the way she sees through my bullshit, the way I can breathe when she's around, is because of more than loneliness.

In reality, I think I've been lying to myself. I'm just a broken man trying to fill a void.

Fuck. I made a mistake.

I stumble into my penthouse, my mind a mess. My throat closes, and my hands tremble. Fuck, am I delusional?

She was there for me. I knew she'd had feelings for me for years. She was hopeful we could be more. She was vulnerable and caring, and I used her. I used her to close this hole in my chest, to make it hurt a little less.

What have I done?

I crawl into bed, hide under the blanket, and let myself drown in self-loathing.

You've never felt like that with anyone else, my inner voice whispers. No one has ever made you feel the way she does. It was never just a distraction.

“Shut up,” I bark. “Shut the fuck up.” That's exactly what grief does. It tricks people; it makes them cling to someone close, to the person showing them kindness and compassion. That's why Ines clung to me.

When my phone rings, I yank it out of my pocket with a groan. Dammit. Piper. And it's a FaceTime request.

I climb out of bed, toss my phone onto the covers, and hurry to the bathroom. I wash my face with cold water, but it's still not enough. So, I stick my head under the tap, holding my breath for as long as I can. When my lungs start to burn, I straighten and dry my hair and face. Then, I force myself back into my bedroom.

Phone in hand, I make my way to the kitchen and call Piper back.

She answers on the third ring, her smiling face appearing on my screen. “Hey, hey,” she greets me. “Wasn't sure you'd call me back.”

I fake a smile. “Was taking a shower. My phone was in the kitchen.”

“Got it.” She scrutinizes me, and I pray to all the gods she'll let me off the hook. “How are you?”

“I'm okay. We're working on the new album, so I don't have time to brood.” What a fucking lie. I'm an asshole. “How are you? How are Hunter and the kids?”

“Everything is fine. Summer break is not for the weak when your kids are home most of the day.” With a sly smile, she peers over the screen. “I'm ready to worship the ground Ry walks on. She's my lifesaver. Hudson is obsessed with her, and Story follows her around asking ballet questions all day. I don't think we would've survived this month without her.”

Then, she shifts, and Riley appears.

My breath hitches. She's sitting on the sunbed, Hudson tucked under her arm, a book in her lap. Her hair is in its usual messy bun, a few wild blue locks framing her face. She's in a blue tee and denim shorts, relaxed and comfortable.

I miss her, that's true, but I have no right to feel so attached.

I'll only hurt her if I keep letting her save me.

It's not her job.

And it's not fair to her.

Once she's back in New York, I need to distance myself from her, set some boundaries before my selfishness breaks her apart.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yeah, that's Riley for you.”

Piper reappears. “I'm glad she came to visit us after taking care of her dad. I was worried she'd have to get back to New York and we'd miss out on seeing her.”

“She loves you just as much as she loves her dad. And she was excited to spend time with the kids.”

“I never expected you and Ry to become so close.” She laughs lightly. “When we were kids, you two did nothing but bicker.”

I chuckle, despite how hard it is for me to breathe. “We're too old for that now, Pip.”

“Watch your mouth. I'm the same age as you, and I don't feel old at all.”

“That's because your husband is thirteen years older than you. You'll always feel young when he's around.”

She laughs. “Want me to say that to Hunter?”

“Please do.”

After a few more minutes, Piper ends the call so they can have dinner. I set my phone on the counter and head toward the windows. The view is breathtaking. The city stretches out before me, all shimmering steel, roads pulsing with nighttime traffic.

Headlights glow through the haze of heat that remains even after the sun has set. The sky is black. Damn, it needs to rain, just once, to take away the scorching heat sticking to my skin the moment I step outside.

Riley would hate this weather. It's good she's in Santa Clara.

Fuck me. Why am I thinking about her again?

I press my forehead to the window. She's too good for me. She doesn't deserve to be used as a distraction. She deserves more…and I don't have the capacity to give that to her.

She deserves someone steady, not an egotistical jerk who mistakes loneliness for love.

I never should've gotten between her and Nick. I never should've touched her. I never should've let myself have her.

But I can't go back in time and fix my mistakes. All I can do now is make things right for her.

And that means staying the fuck away from her.

25

not butterflies

Riley

My stomach rolls slightly as I push the salad around my plate with my fork. My appetite over the last few days has been nonexistent, probably because of the heat and the humidity. It's almost too hot to be out on the terrace tonight, but with the sun setting, we decided to go for it.

According to Nastya, the weather in New York is worse, so I should be grateful.

“…your orientation for the company went well?” Piper says to my right.

I look up at Story. She's playing with her food, wearing an expression that probably matches mine, though in her case, it's likely because of nerves. Her life is about to change completely. At only sixteen, she's already accomplished so much, but now that she's been accepted into this dance company, she'll have to postpone her college plans.

“It was great,” she mutters. “But I don't know what I think about the homeschooling part.”

Piper's eyebrows hit her hairline. “We've talked about this before, and you never seemed to mind. What's changed?”

Story's only response is a shrug. My sister peers at me, silently begging for help.

So, I put my fork down and steeple my fingers.

“The training will be intense,” I tell Story. “The days will be long, and you'll meet so many professional dancers. It's a lot, but think of how fulfilling it will be when you get to perform. Homeschooling is the only way to make it possible, though. Or is there something else bothering you?”

She puts her fork down and collects her dark brown hair into a neat bun. “It'll mean missing out on my senior year with my friends. And I've always wanted to go to college in New York. You know how much I want to follow in your footsteps, and now, it won't be the same.”

“Story.” I reach across the table and cover her hand with mine. “You don't need to follow in my footsteps. Your story is different from mine. It always has been. You are exceptionally talented, way more talented than I've ever been.” I squeeze her hand. “You deserve this opportunity.

You've worked so hard. Homeschool won't be that bad, trust me. You'll be with other kids your age at the company. You'll still have plenty of opportunities for fun. And I'm only one call away.”

Her lips tip up in a relieved smile. “Thank you so much, Ry. You will always be my inspiration.” She narrows her eyes at me. “But if you ever say you are less talented than me again, I'll throw hands.”

There's a pause at the table before we all burst out laughing.

“When is your flight?” Nastya asks, her voice muffled.

“On Sunday. I land at seven.”

“And you don't have a spare key to your apartment?”

“Nope. You have both keys. You did get the spare from the cleaning company, right?”

“Yes.”

I trace my finger over the rim of my wineglass. It's my favorite rosé, but it tastes off tonight. Too sweet. I took one sip, and now it's sitting here, getting warm. “Why?”

“Grant and I are going to the Hamptons tomorrow. We won't be back till Monday. Want me to drop your keys at Hayden's?”

“Don't worry,” I tell her. Hayden is picking me up from the airport, and I'd rather not trouble her by asking her to drop it off across town. I'm sure I can stay in the penthouse another night. “I'll stay at his place and get my keys from you on Monday.”

“Sounds good. How are you? Has your vacation been everything you hoped for?”

I let out a soft huff. “Aside from the stress that came with caring for my dad and rescheduling my plans, I'd say it's all going great.”

“How is Hayden?” she asks. “Does he call you? Or text? I need details.”

A pang pierces my heart. He's been distant these last few days, like the Hade I spent time with before has disappeared. He's behaving like he used to: like my sister's best friend. Friendly, but without the warmth I've become accustomed to.

“He's been…fine,” I lie. “He's been in the studio, so he's busy.”

She's silent for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, she says, “He's acting up, isn't he?”

“A little. At first, he texted a lot. He even told me he missed me. But then, one day, it was like a switch flipped, and he's acting the way he did before I came to stay with him. I don't know what to make of it. Maybe he's in one of his moods again and doesn't want me to know.”

“I really hope that's the case. If he hurts you, he'll have to deal with me.”

I clear my throat, desperate to change the subject. “Why the Hamptons? I didn't think you were a fan.”

“I'm not.” She laughs. “Grant's mom insisted we visit, and I'd rather not suffer her wrath. Good thing my period just ended. It'll make spending the whole weekend in the pool much easier.”

Unease creeps through me, though I can't place why. So, I ignore it and continue the conversation, asking more about her plans.

When I end the call, the sensation I've missed something important lingers.

“Good morning. Want coffee?” Piper asks.

The kitchen smells like fried eggs, bacon, and coffee. Typically, I love waking up to the scent of breakfast. This morning, though, a wave of nausea crashes over me. I grip the cupboard and breathe in and out, worried I'll vomit.

Piper watches me. “Ry, are you okay? All the color drained from your face.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “My head is spinning.”

She rushes to me, loops her arm around my waist, and leads me to the couch in the living room. Once I'm lying on my back with a pillow under my head, she towers over me, hands on her hips.

I lick my dry lips, squinting up at her. “I don't know what came over me.”

She presses her hand to my forehead, her lips twisting. “Hm, you don't have a fever. Still feel dizzy?”

I shrug. “I think I'm okay.”

Hunter comes in from the kitchen and stops by Piper's side, wearing a look of concern.

Cheeks heating, I sit up. I hate causing a scene. It brings back memories of when I was fourteen, when my thyroid betrayed me and I couldn't get out of bed.

“Ry, maybe you should lie down?” Hunter suggests.

The front door opens before I have a chance to reply, and Story and Hudson filter in. They're both smiling from ear to ear, carrying donut boxes. The scent that follows them—cinnamon and caramel—makes me nauseous all over again.

I launch myself to my feet and scurry to the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before I vomit up the meager contents of my stomach.

When the nausea subsides, I creep into my bedroom and crawl under the blanket. I'm flying home in two days. Whatever this is—a stomach bug, maybe? Food poisoning?—needs to go away by then. To ground myself, I pull my phone from my shorts pocket and type a new message to Hayden.

Me:

Tell me something good about your day. Literally anything will work.

Hade:

I woke up.

I snort.

Me:

Come on. You can do better than that.

Hade:

In my circumstances, the fact that I woke up means it's a good day.

Me:

Okay. Then I'm really glad you did.

Hade:

What happened?

Me:

Food poisoning is ruining my life.

Hade:

So dramatic.

Me:

I'm blocking you if you don't start being nice.

Hade:

- This is me begging for your forgiveness.

Hade:

And I'm sorry you don't feel well. Food poisoning sucks.

Me:

Thank you.

Me:

Can I stay at your place on Sunday night? Nastya is out of town, and she has the keys to my apartment.

Hade:

Are you really sick, or were you just softening me up before you asked?

Me:

Did it work?

Hade:

I would've said yes regardless. But only if you promise to make pancakes for breakfast.

A knock on the door startles me, and with a trembling hand, I stuff my phone under my pillow. Goodness, I'm acting like a schoolgirl who got caught passing notes.

“Can I come in?” Piper asks.

“Sure.”

She steps into my room, holding a glass of water and wearing a concerned frown. “How do you feel?”

“I'm not throwing up anymore, so that's good.” I try to smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. “At least for now.”

With a slight shake of her head, she sits on the edge of the mattress. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Memories are a bitch, aren't they?”

“You have no idea.” She presses her palm to my cheek. “The image of you lying in bed, so drained, is practically engraved in my mind.”

“My thyroid is fine. I haven't had issues in years. It's probably food poisoning.”

Teeth in her bottom lip, she studies me. “But we all ate the same thing last night. Except for the ice cream.”

“Yup, I'm the only one who had vanilla.” I shrug. “Let's just hope I feel better before Sunday. I want to spend more time with you before I go home.”

“Get some rest.” She kisses my forehead and stands. “I'll tell the kids not to bother you.”

With a nod, I curl under the blanket and fall into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up around lunchtime, and since then, I've felt perfectly fine. It's a relief to know whatever that was won't ruin the last couple of days I have here.

“Oh my God.” Story jumps off the sunbed, her eyes round.

“What's wrong?” I ask.

She presses a hand to her abdomen. “I'm on my period, and I think…” Her cheeks flame, and her eyes dart around. “I need to go to my room.”

She makes a beeline for the house, leaving me alone by the pool. I close my eyes, resting the back of my head on the sunbed, soaking in the silence. Naturally, my mind wanders, and when Nastya's words from our call replay in my mind, I jolt up straight.

No.

It can't be.

I pluck my phone from the coffee table and frantically navigate to the calendar app. Then, my heart plummets. I'm two weeks late.

Could it be because of stress?

I went through the wringer when my dad ended up in the E.R, and my worries about Hayden surely don't help.

It's possible.

But I know myself too well. I won't survive tonight without knowing for sure. I need proof it's not what I'm afraid of.

Panic works its way through me as I rush to Story's room. When she sees me, her brows knit together.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

��Can I borrow your car? I need to go to the store.”

“Just text Piper. They're probably still out.”

I shake my head. “It's better if I go myself.”

She tilts her head. “Can I go with you? You look like you've had the scare of your life.”

Not wanting to worry her more than I already have, I agree. At the store, I ask her to pick out snacks, and then I sneak away and throw three tests in my basket, hiding them beneath other items.

The rest of the family is still out when we get back, so I make an excuse and slip into my bedroom. I take all three tests and then sit on the floor, eyeing the sticks as if they've personally offended me.

I have an implant. We used a condom every time. I can't be pregnant.

When all three tests show a positive result, I deflate, and my eyes sting with tears. Every result is perfectly visible, even through my blurred vision.

I'm pregnant. My stomach flutters, but not in a good way. This is anxiety, not butterflies.

Fear and uncertainty overtake me, but after a moment, I discover that beneath them, there's a quiet, almost shy hopefulness. For years, I believed this was impossible. Yet, here I am. It feels like a miracle.

A slow smile creeps over my lips, though it dies when another realization hits me like a hard blow.

I'm pregnant…with Hayden's child, and I have no idea how he'll react.

26

it's yours

Hayden

The takeout containers are gone, and so are the piles of clothes that were scattered about the living room. I even dusted the piano and my guitar.

With any luck, Riley won't know what a mess it was while she was gone.

With my plan to distance myself from her, it's crucial she believes I don't need saving. If she sees through the facade, sees the man falling apart, the man stitching himself together with fake smiles and “I'm okay” answers, she'll never back off. Regardless of her feelings for me, she's selfless and compassionate.

It'd be easier to hide all the chaos in my head from her if she weren't staying at my place tonight, but I couldn't say no. Not to her. Never to her.

Fuck. I'm hopeless, aren't I?

To get my mind off her, I send a quick text to Jimmy and Bo.

Me:

What do you think about letting Owen's parents and Ines listen to the album before we release it?

Jimmy:

One hundred percent agree.

Bo:

Me too.

Me:

Awesome. See you on Monday.

With that, I pocket my phone and wander to the door. As much as I want to put Riley out of my mind, it's time to head to the airport.

Arms crossed, I lean against the wall, watching people pass. My breathing is slow and my heartbeat is steady. On the surface, I'm calm and collected.

Fuck, I hope she believes the act.

Dressed in a white tee and blue jeans, Riley steps into view. Despite how hard I try to remain unaffected, my stomach does a weird somersault at the sight of her, and a rush of energy pulses through my veins.

I push off the wall and make my way toward her, smiling. My grin quickly fades the moment her expression registers. Her hair is braided, not a single lock out of place. It gives me the perfect view of her face.

The dark circles under her eyes and her pale complexion kick my heart into a nervous rhythm. She's just returned from vacation in California, so she should be well-rested and tan.

Jaw clenched, she drags her suitcase, her gaze trained ahead of her.

I pick up the pace and block her path, and when she sees me, the corners of her mouth tip up.

“Hi, Ry baby.” I kiss her cheek, noting her usual caramel scent is faint.

“Hi.”

I cover her hand to take her suitcase from her, and a zing of excitement goes right through me.

“Ready to go?” I ask.

She's quiet as we make our way to the parking garage. Her silence, usually so comfortable, settles over me like a heavy weight. Something is wrong, but I have no idea what. Is it because of how little I've interacted with her over the last few days?

In the car, Riley looks out the window, chewing on her bottom lip. She's lost in her thoughts, and the longer it continues, the more fidgety I become.

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, willing the panic building in my chest to subside.

What the hell is going on with me?

“How have you been?” she asks.

“Um…good. Everything is good. Been busy with the album. We're almost done.” My words come out too quickly, so I take a deep breath and slow down. “I've been helping Ines too. Santi was sick a few days ago, so I hung out with him, tried to distract him from not feeling well.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “Discovered I give good back rubs. I got Santi to fall asleep in record time.”

She wrinkles her brow. “How is he feeling now? Is he okay?”

I nod. “He's back to normal. His birthday is coming up. I don't know who's more excited, him or his mom.”

She smiles, and it sets me a bit at ease. “I'm excited to listen to the album. I can't wait to see how you've incorporated Owen. I can only imagine how special that will be for Ines.”

“I suggested we let Owen's parents and Ines listen to it first. Jimmy and Bo agree.”

“Can I hear it before it comes out?”

“Depends on what you'll give me in exchange.” I wink.

Her eyes widen, and only then do I realize what I said.

My heart lurches. I'm an asshole.

“Um…” she hedges. “I'll think about it.”

“I-I was joking. After Ines and Owen's parents, you can absolutely listen.”

“Thanks.”

The car is awkwardly silent again as I pull up to a traffic light, so I choose the safest topic I can think of to keep the conversation going.

“How is the family?”

She shrugs. “Good. Hudson spends most days playing with his best friend, Maya. Hunter is building a tree house in his spare time.” She peers over at me quickly, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “And I'm sure you already know about Story being accepted into a prestigious ballet company.”

Fuck. I didn't have a clue, but I don't tell Riley that.

“She's making plans and preparing herself for all the changes that will bring. Piper is…Piper. Taking care of everyone. She's also discovered a love for flowers, so she spent a lot of time gardening while I was there.”

How did I not know any of this?

Because you've been in your head for months, my inner voice says. You barely notice what happens under your nose, let alone on the other side of the country.

“Good to know,” I mutter.

She shifts in her seat, facing me. “You had no idea about any of it.”

It's a statement, not a question.

My stomach rolls, making bile rise in my throat. “Yeah. I was…too focused on myself and my own problems.”

She looks away and puts her hands on her knees.

Guilt slams into me, making my skin crawl. I should be used to feeling this way by now, but it still fills my mouth with bitterness. Dealing with grief is hard, but it's not an excuse to ignore the people I care about. Sure, I'm helping Ines, so I'm not entirely hopeless, but treating my family like an afterthought isn't okay.

I don't deserve their care or their attention.

I'm a waste of space.

She coughs, pulling me from my thoughts. With her eyes closed, she rests her head back against the seat, breathing slowly. She mentioned not feeling well a few days ago, and I never bothered to check on her afterward.

Fuck.

“How are you, Ry? Still feeling sick?”

She swallows, the delicate column of her throat working. “I'm fine.”

“Are you over the food poisoning?”

“Uh-huh.” She dips her chin, but she doesn't look at me.

A hint of relief threads through me. “Good. Being sick on vacation sucks.”

She doesn't respond, and when the silence starts to suffocate me, I ask about Story and her plans for the fall. Maybe talking about ballet will make the atmosphere between us more bearable.

In a matter of minutes, I know I was wrong.

She explains what Story's days will look like, mentioning homeschool and her change in college plans. With every word, she becomes more distant, more closed off, like she'd rather talk about anything but this. Why?

The question I've had in my head for a very long time grows louder: What made her quit ballet?

Maybe one day, she'll trust me enough to tell me.

But who am I kidding? I'm the last person she should trust.

“I'll take your suitcase to your room,” I tell her once we step out of the elevator.

“No need. I'll take it myself.” She grabs the handle and heads toward the guest room.

Dammit. Her strange behavior, this tension, worries me.

“How about dinner?” I call after her. “I made mac and cheese.”

“Sounds great.” Before I can respond, she closes her bedroom door.

When she eventually steps into the kitchen, she's wearing a loose white T-shirt and blue shorts. Her hair is no longer braided, just pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. The dark circles under her eyes are more prominent in the light of my kitchen.

“Sit.” I nod toward the breakfast bar. Her quietness makes the alarms in my head go off. I swallow past the lump forming in my throat and set two plates on the table.

“What do you want to drink? A beer? Or soda?”

She peers up at me, her blue eyes dull. “Do you have any apple juice?”

“Yup. One glass of apple juice, coming right up.”

She's silent as we eat, her attention fixed on her plate. Every time I try to strike up a conversation, she shuts it down with a one- or two-word response.

Anxiety floods me. My knee is bouncing so hard, it hits the table several times.

I can't do this anymore.

I drop my fork onto my plate with a clank and take a steadying breath. “What's wrong?”

She grimaces, still not looking at me. “Hayden, please.”

“No. Tell me what's wrong.” I lean forward, trying to catch her gaze. “Please, Ry.”

Finally, she looks up, her eyes welling with tears. “There's something we need to talk about.”

My heart sinks. This can't be good.

“Let's finish eating first, okay?” she asks.

We finish dinner quickly, neither of us eating much more, and I send her to the living room while I take care of the dishes.

When I join her on the couch, she's sitting with a throw pillow pressed to her stomach.

“What happened?” I ask, my thoughts spiraling.

She puffs her cheeks and then exhales. “I'm pregnant.”

One…two…three…I count in my head as if that'll change the meaning. It takes a moment to process, though my body reacts immediately.

Going ramrod straight, I clutch my hands in front of me. “What?”

“I'm pregnant.” She licks her lips. “It's yours.” The tears threatening in the kitchen have vanished, and her posture is relatively relaxed, like she didn't just turn my life upside down. Our lives.

“What about your implant?”

She wrings her hands. “It expired. Two months ago. I didn't realize.” Her voice cracks, her emotions getting the best of her. “Could it be because of your piercing? Maybe it caused a condom to break.” She hiccups. “I'm sorry, Hayden.”

My heart is ready to jump out of my chest, and my head is filled with noise. So many thoughts race through my mind. Shock, panic, and fear threaten to drown me.

“I—” I drag a hand down my face, heart pounding. “I need a minute.”

I want to run away. Instead, I stand and walk slowly out of the room. In the confines of my bedroom, the walls close in on me. I lower myself onto the bed, lightheaded. A baby. My baby. I'm going to be a father.

I close my eyes, hoping it'll shut out the chaos. Instead, I'm met with an image of Owen. He whispers in my ear, saying the words that have stuck with me no matter how much I want to forget them. He talks about how suffocating fatherhood became for him. How distant he was growing from Santi and from Ines too. How he was drowning in his responsibilities and how he hated himself for feeling like that because they were his everything.

What if I have the same issues? What if I find myself suffocating in that same darkness?

You're not him, my inner voice says. And your relationship with Riley is nothing like the one Owen had with Ines.

Fuck. I snap my eyes open. Riley. I left her all alone. Shame burns through me. Heart in my throat, I dart back out to the living room.

Riley is still on the couch, her shoulders tight, a pillow clutched to her stomach, as if it will protect her.

A glimmer of clarity hits me.

I have no right to fail her.

Moving closer, I keep my focus on her. “Hey.” I crouch in front of her and gently take her hand. “How do you feel?”

“Mostly okay,” she says, her words barely audible, her gaze averted. “I have morning sickness, and I've had a few dizzy spells, but that's all.” Her lips tremble. “I haven't told anyone.”

I nod, trying to pull myself together. “Thank you for telling me.” My throat tightens. “I'm with you. No matter what, I'm with you.”

Her eyes round, her lips parting. “Really?”

“Of course.” I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but I know I can't abandon her or my child. “You're not alone in this. You're having our baby.” I flash her a lopsided grin, even as I'm overwhelmed with fear, and sit beside her. “We'll figure things out together. Okay?”

She nods slowly, the tiniest smile lifting her lips.

I drape an arm over her shoulders and pull her to me. Face hidden in the crook of my neck, she winds her hands around my torso and presses into me, her muscles relaxing.

The plan to distance myself from her goes up in smoke. Her confession has changed everything.

Because no matter what, I need to make things right for her.

That's the only way.

27

you…lied

Hayden

“I need to call my manager.”

I set a mug of green tea on the coffee table then assess Riley, who's still curled up on the couch.

We spent a long time holding each other in silence. It hit me then, as my mind raced, that it's now my responsibility to take care of her, so I offered to bring her tea.

With her knees pressed to her chest, she eyes me warily. “Why?”

I sit beside her, though I leave several inches of space between us. “Once we officially announce the new album, the media will probably descend. I want to make sure you're safe. If my management knows about our situation, they can help us.”

“Okay. Thank you. I have no desire to be in the public eye.” She sighs. “All that attention…it's not for me.”

“Glenn will help us figure out how to handle that aspect,” I say. “And you'll need to see a doctor.”

She dips her chin. “I scheduled an appointment with my O.B-G.Y.N. Thursday is the earliest they can see me.”

I wince, hoping she won't fight me on this next part. “I'm talking about going to a private clinic. It's where I go. Everyone there has signed an N.D.A. This way, there will be no journalists, no risk of the news being leaked.”

She presses her lips into a tight line. Clearly, she's not loving the idea.

I continue, giving her more context. “I want to be with you every step of the way. That won't be possible if you go to an office where I might be recognized. If another patient or a nurse gets chatty, the media will be all over the place.”

She picks up her mug and brings it to her chest. “I like my doctor.”

“I understand.”

“I want to have control over my decisions. It feels like you're taking my choice away.”

“Never.” I place my hand on her knee. “I'm merely suggesting. I'll go with you no matter where you decide, and I'll be there for every appointment. I promise.”

She rolls her eyes but gives me a slight nod. “Fine. Let's try it your way for now. I can always go back to my doctor later.”

“Thank you. You won't regret it. This clinic is one of the best.”

“With the money you probably pay them, I can't imagine it being terrible.”

A bolt of uncertainty hits me. Shit. “You sound judgmental.”

“Because I am.” She takes a sip of her tea and sighs. “A little. Mostly, I'm annoyed you're right.”

Chuckling, I stand. “I'll be back soon. Just need to make a few phone calls.”

Glenn can be a handful, and he's going to ask invasive questions, so I'd rather not call him in front of her. I don't want to worry her further.

I schedule an appointment with the doctor first and then navigate to Glenn's contact.

“Didn't expect to hear from you yet,” he says when he answers. “Figured I wouldn't until closer to the release day announcement.”

“What are you talking about? We saw each other last week.”

“And you were as friendly as a cactus.” He barks a laugh. “So forgive me for being surprised by your call. What's the occasion?”

“I've got a personal matter that needs to stay under wraps. Before I tell you, though, you need to promise there will be no publicity, no using it to gain hype for the album. It's not up for discussion or negotiation.”

“Color me intrigued.”

Here goes nothing. “Someone is pregnant with my child.”

For a second, he's silent. Then, there's shuffling on the other end of the line. “Someone? One of your fans? Is she underage?”

I flinch, and my lip curls into a sneer. “Fuck you, Glenn. Do you really think I'd have sex with an underage girl?”

“I've been in this business way too long. Nothing surprises me anymore.” He sighs. “I had to ask, Hade. Sorry.”

I lie back on my bed. The implication makes me nauseous. Story is sixteen, and even imagining some prick with her… The thought is fucking disgusting.

“So? Who's the baby mama?”

“Piper's sister.”

Another second of silence. Then, he clears his throat. “Isn't Piper married to your brother?”

“Correct.”

He whistles. “Wow. The family ties just got more interesting.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sorry, sorry. So she's pregnant, and you're sure it's yours,” he clarifies. “Are you going to see the doctor?”

“Yes. I made an appointment for tomorrow.”

“Does that mean you want to keep the baby?”

My heart skips a beat. I haven't even considered that. I just wanted to make sure Riley knew she could count on me. And because I'm a selfish jerk, I didn't bother to ask Riley how she felt.

I lick my dry lips. “We'll make that decision together.”

“Just want to confirm,” he says, pen scratching in the background. “You want to make sure no one knows about the pregnancy, and if you decide to keep the baby, you also want to keep the mother's identity under wraps.”

“Yes. For her safety, I want her to stay out of the limelight. I don't want Riley to have to go through what Owen and Ines did when fans found out they were married.”

Glenn sighs. “Fuck, that was bad. And for you…the uproar would be so much worse. You've never dated anyone for longer than a couple of months. The fans like thinking you're a playboy. They'll lose it if they find out you're tied down.”

“That's why it needs to stay under the radar.”

“Got it. Let me know when the two of you decide, and we'll go from there.” He clears his throat. “If you decide to keep the baby, does that mean you and this girl are going to be together?”

I close my eyes, reminding myself Riley can't hear me now. I knew Glenn would ask this question. “No. We're just friends.”

“Okay. If anything changes, let me know.”

“Thanks, Glenn. I appreciate your help more than you know.”

“And I appreciate the heads-up. Accidental pregnancies and surprise weddings are the stuff of nightmares for a manager.”

I rough a hand down my face. “Happy to help.”

“Go fuck yourself, man. It'd be better than fucking your best friend's sister.”

With his thundering laughter in my ear, I end the call. He's a great manager, but his sense of humor needs work.

In the living room, Riley stands in front of the window. She looks so fragile. All I want is to hold her, make sure she knows I'm here for her.

But it's safer for both of us if I keep my hands to myself.

“We have an appointment at ten a.m. tomorrow.” I stop beside her, my shoulder brushing hers.

“Okay,” she says quietly. Then, she turns to me. “Why did you lie to me?”

My heart thuds uncomfortably. Lie? “What are you talking about?”

“While I was away, you kept saying you were busy, that you were spending time in the studio and at Ines'. But I know this place. I know how your penthouse looks when you're in one of your moods. When you're letting your depression win.”

“Riley, look around⁠—”

“And see what?” she asks, her eyes hard. “It's too clean. Even the piano you haven't touched in months. Did you clean up to create an illusion for me? To make me believe you were doing fine while I was on vacation?” She jabs my chest with a finger. “Don't lie to me. I know you too well.”

I stare at her, at a loss for words. How is it possible she sees right through me? Past my bullshit? Past the facade I so carefully crafted?

Head low, I admit, “You're right. I did go into the studio, and I did spend time with Ines and Santi. But most days, I was home, trying to survive, barely functioning. That's what I did.”

Her lip trembles slightly. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't want to worry you. I didn't want to worry Hunter or Piper.” I shake my head. “I didn't want to bother any of you.”

With her arms wrapped around her middle, she takes a step back. “Why would you think I'd tell them? You know I don't tell my sister everything, right?”

I open my mouth then close it. When I open it again, no sound comes out. I never even considered she didn't report back to Piper every time she checked in on me.

“I saw you falling apart. I saw you drowning in your grief. I recognized all your fake smiles. I saw your depression, all too familiar to my own. I've lived with it. I lived through it. There were days when I was tempted to end it all because the pressure, the expectations, felt like too much.”

Her words land like sucker punches. What she said makes my heart ache. I didn't know about any of that, and I don't think Piper knows either. She would've told me. She would've asked me to look after Riley the way she asked Riley to look after me.

“I never told her how low you really were, and I didn't just check on you because they asked me to. No, I was here because I was worried, because I wanted to make sure you were alright.” She waves her hand at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “And you lied to me… Time and time again, you lied to me. And now, you stand there telling me you didn't want to bother me. That you didn't want to worry Hunter and Piper. It was me who was asking. It was me who was worried, and you just…lied.”

My heart cracks in two. I reach out, wanting nothing more than to touch her, to share my warmth with her. To ask her about her past, about her hard truths. To ease her pain.

But she takes a step back, dodging my touch.

The hole in my chest widens. “Riley…”

“No.” She purses her lips. “I thought the connection we built meant something to you. I thought you'd be honest with me because I've seen all sides of you, that you'd care enough not to betray my trust…but I was wrong. About all of it.”

“Ry, please listen to me⁠—”

“You know what? I'm too tired for this.”

With that, she walks away from me…and I swear it's never been harder to see her do that.

28

then we're keeping this baby, ry

Riley

I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to leave this room. I don't want to see Hayden. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to listen to him.

Yet, that's exactly what I have to do, since we have an appointment with the doctor he chose. Hayden is an egocentric asshole. That was established years ago. His behavior isn't surprising, just disappointing.

Sometimes, I swear, my life was designed to be torturous.

As I snag my phone from the nightstand, I consider bailing on the appointment at the fancy private clinic. I consider packing my things, going all the way to the Hamptons to get my keys from Nastya, and leaving his sorry ass for good. It's tempting, but I wouldn't be me if I didn't feel bad about acting like a child throwing a tantrum.

Plus, the sooner I see the doctor, the sooner I'll know for sure. Maybe I got a false positive. Three false positives. It seems hard to believe, but with my medical history, it also seems impossible I could be pregnant.

If I'm not, Hayden and I can go our separate ways, and I'll do my best to pretend those two nights of passion never happened.

If I'm pregnant…well, it sure will complicate things. We'll have to tell our families, and I don't know what my future at the dance studio will look like. Despite the law, Adelaide, the owner, considered not hiring Nastya since she was already happily married. Thus, in her eyes, she was likely to end up pregnant sooner rather than later.

Then, there are Hayden's fans. Many left scathing comments under the band's post that confirmed Owen and Ines had gotten married. Bo's wife has received death threats even though they got married before all the success. If they knew the lead singer of Sabotage was going to be a dad, they wouldn't rest until they knew my identity.

I don't want that kind of fame.

A knock on the door stops my mental gymnastics. I glare at it, willing Hayden to leave me alone.

Instead, he knocks again. “Ry? Are you awake? We need to leave in about an hour.”

Annoyance flares to life inside me. “And?”

“How about breakfast?”

I get out of bed, stalk to the door, and open it wide. “I'm not hungry.”

He holds my gaze for a heartbeat. Then, his focus drifts to my neck, my chest, down my legs.

My skin heats, a pleasant rush of energy coursing through me.

Note to self: Next time you want to make a point, consider getting dressed first. Opening the door in nothing but a tiny nightgown is a no-no.

Even though I had him in mind when I bought it in Santa Clara.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs in a husky voice, slipping his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach as I take his words to heart. The mayhem inside me is out of control.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Thanks.”

“So.” He props his shoulder against the doorframe, sending his scent wafting over me. “How about breakfast?”

Tingles rush down my spine. “I'm not hungry.”

As if calling me a liar, my stomach chooses that moment to grumble. Thanks a ton, you traitor.

His lips tip up on one side. “I'm afraid I don't believe you.”

I press my hands to his naked chest and gently push him back. “Go away. I'll be out in a few minutes.”

The laughter that spills out of his mouth is sinful. It makes my center throb. Ridiculous. Frustrated with him and myself, I close the door in his face.

Already, my patience is hanging on by a thread, and it's not even 9 AM

The scent of freshly made coffee greets me halfway down the hall. I pause immediately, checking in with my body, worried I may need to make a run for the bathroom. So far, it's all good.

Hayden sets a plate of avocado toast on the breakfast bar as I step into the kitchen. He crooks a lopsided grin, assessing me. “Decided to change your clothes?”

“Yeah, that nightgown is only for special occasions…and special people.” I shrug. “I pulled it out of my suitcase by accident last night and was too tired to look for something else.”

He arches a brow. “So…I'm not special?”

You could be. If you weren't fighting battles I can't win for you. If you still want me when you find your way out of them. “You're not.” I climb onto the stool and set my elbows on the counter, resting my chin in my hands.

His lips twist. Then, with a shake of his head, he turns to the coffeepot. “If you'd rather have something other than avocado toast⁠—”

“This is fine. Thanks.” I take a bite and chew slowly, paying attention to my body's reaction. I'm still figuring out what triggers my morning sickness. So far, avocado toast seems to be safe.

Hayden sets a mug of coffee in front of me. “How do you feel?”

“I'm fine.”

“No morning sickness? No head spinning?”

“No. I'm fine.” I want to stay mad at him, but he's making it hard, being so sweet.

“Okay.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Piper never really mentioned morning sickness when she was pregnant with Hudson. Ines, on the other hand? Damn, it was brutal. Owen, the poor guy, had no idea how to help her.”

Suddenly, his eyes glaze over, as if he's gone somewhere else. I watch him, wondering if he realizes he's talking to me about his friend for the first time since his death.

“It's a lottery,” I say quietly. “Some women have it, some don't. Sometimes, it's triggered by something specific. Other times, just about anything can bring on a wave of nausea. A friend of mine didn't have morning sickness, but she had motion sickness. If she even walked too fast during her first trimester, she'd get nauseous.”

His brows shoot up. “Really?”

“Yup. And the girl loved to walk fast, so it was her personal nightmare.”

Head thrown back, he laughs. “I had no idea it could be like that.”

“I don't know a lot, but I do know no pregnancy is the same. So even though I've heard stories and learned tips, they may not apply to me. If I really am pregnant, that is.”

He lowers his mug, scrutinizing me. “You think you might not be?”

“I think I am, but drugstore tests aren't a hundred percent accurate.” I bite my bottom lip, choosing my next words very carefully. “Considering my history and my thyroid problems, anything is possible.”

“How is your thyroid now? I vaguely remember you being sick, but I was still practically a kid. I wasn't exactly listening attentively at nineteen.” He raps his fingers on the counter. “You could barely get out of bed, right?”

I nod. “It was scary. The symptoms were subtle at first. I'd be more tired after dancing, overly stressed about school. When I was fourteen, it really hit.

My muscles ached, and I couldn't keep my eyes open in class. It felt like my whole body was moving in slow motion. I barely had the energy to walk down a flight of stairs, let alone dance. I hated myself, hated my life, hated everything.”

He tilts his head. “It took a while for the doctor to figure out what was going on?”

“Correct. I went through weeks of tests, scans, and panic.” I lift one shoulder in a shrug despite the pang in my chest. “Piper really advocated for me. She found Dr. Stevens, my endocrinologist. Right away, he suspected I had Hashimoto's disease. auto-immune hypothyroidism. Bloodwork confirmed it.”

“What does that mean?” he asks over the rim of his mug.

“Basically, my immune system attacked my thyroid until it stopped doing its job. Dr. Stevens put me on levothyroxine, and within a couple of months, I was okay. I was able to dance again, even after a full day at school.”

“I'm really sorry you went through that, Ry baby.” He reaches for me as if he wants to cover my hand with his, but he pulls back before making contact and curls his fingers around his mug instead.

I'm relieved. I'm not sure I could handle him touching me.

“I'm so glad they figured it out and that you're okay. That's what matters.”

“Yeah. But it's funny, you know? If not for my health problems and the financial strain, Piper and Hunter may not have fallen in love. She became Story's nanny because she'd used her college fund to pay my medical bills, so she needed the money to pay her tuition.”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “Honestly? I think they would've ended up together no matter what. Those two are soulmates.”

Warmth settles in my stomach, spreading through my veins. It means a lot to hear him say that, to know he believes the same things I do.

That soulmates do exist.

Dr. Bell is in her forties, with soft eyes but a very businesslike voice. She asks me questions, makes notes, and nods when I tell her about my health problems.

“Okay. We'll draw some blood,” she explains. “When was the first day of your last period?”

I check my calendar and rattle off the date. “I've taken two…three tests, and they were all positive.” I don't look at Hayden, who stands quietly by my side. It's easier that way.

“That puts you at about seven weeks. Let's get the bloodwork done first.” She gestures for me to follow. “We'll be back soon,” she says to Hayden over her shoulder.

One blood test later, I sit on the exam table with my hand pressed to my mouth. After being told time and again I'd never have children, I was afraid to hope. Now, I know anything is possible. The blood test confirmed it.

That hope, though, is mixed with worry, considering who my baby daddy is and the unexpected nature of the revelation.

Dr. Bell returns, this time with Hayden in tow. When he sees me, he frowns and heads straight for me.

“You okay?” He wipes a tear from my cheek.

Before I can respond, Dr. Bell warns me pregnancy can affect my thyroid hormone levels, especially in the first trimester. She says she wants to have a full thyroid panel done.

“If your T.S.H is above the recommended range, we'll adjust your levothyroxine dose. It's not uncommon. Many women with hypothyroidism need a higher dose during pregnancy, so don't be surprised if that's the case.” She smiles. “Continue taking your levothyroxine on an empty stomach, but you'll need to wait at least four hours after that to take your prenatal vitamins. The iron and calcium can block the absorption of levothyroxine.”

I open my mouth to reply, but Hayden beats me to it. “Got it.”

The fluttering in my stomach transforms into a floating sensation. He looks so concerned, so sincere.

“We'll repeat the bloodwork every four weeks for now, to make sure you and the baby are doing well.”

“Thank you so much.” The words are barely out of my mouth when an unexpected sob escapes. “Sorry.”

Hayden takes my hand and ducks so we're eye to eye. “Is everything okay?”

I nod, though I can't keep my lips from trembling and tears from welling in my eyes.

“Hey, what's wrong?” He strokes my wrist with his thumb.

“I'll leave you two to talk,” Dr. Bell says as she shuffles for the door.

When we're alone, I whisper, “I'm pregnant.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” His expression softens. “And how do you feel about it now that you know for sure?”

“I-I don't know… I never thought I'd have a baby. Not after what I've been told…”

The corners of his mouth turn down. “What do you mean?”

I pull my hand out of his grip and wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “When my thyroid tanked, my period went completely off the rails. I could go months without it, and then, when it showed up, it would be hell. So, Mom took me to a doctor.” I suck in a breath. “She told me that, with my issues, I'd be lucky if I ever got pregnant.”

His jaw goes slack. “What? She told you that when you were fourteen?”

I shrug and swallow past a lump in my throat. It was all very clinical. She probably didn't bother to think about how crushing it was for me to hear. “Even after my levels stabilized and I had regular periods, the fear gripped me. I was sure I'd never have a child, and now…”

He steps closer and pulls me into his chest. “And now, you're pregnant,” he whispers. “With our baby.”

I slot my head under his chin, desperate for his warmth.

“You're not alone,” he murmurs. “I'm here. I'm with you, and I'll always be here for you.”

His scent envelops me, the heat of his skin setting mine on fire. I lick my lips and tell him what I've wanted to say since yesterday.

“I want to keep it. I want to keep this baby.”

He leans back, eyes searching my face. Then, a beautiful smile spreads across his full lips. With a kiss to my forehead, he says, “Then we're keeping this baby, Ry.”

29

i guess i got myself a roommate

Hayden

Riley's skin glows beneath the summer sun, her eyes bright and gleeful. She's in a simple white tee, light blue jeans, and golden sandals. Twirling one blue lock of hair around her finger, she stares at a little orange dog perched on an old lady's knees two tables away on the café's terrace.

“So…are we keeping the news from our families for now?” I ask. It's like walking on thin ice. One wrong step, and I'll end up in frigid water. I don't want to offend her, but there are things we need to discuss.

She nods, focusing on me. “Yeah. I think that would be best. When they find out, we'll never hear the end of it.”

I chuckle. “We'll have to tell them eventually.”

She sighs. “Let's wait a month—or two.”

I tip my head. “Okay. Do you want to tell Nastya sooner? That would give you someone to talk to.”

She bites her bottom lip. “If that's okay with you, yeah.”

“Whatever you need, Ry.” I pick up my tea and watch her as I take a sip.

Her attention strays to the dog again. It's like a small cloud of fur, with beady eyes and a foxy face. Does she like it?

“Um, I talked to my manager. He's going to help keep the news under wraps. If my fans find out, it'll be chaos. You'll be put on blast, and every aspect of your life will be under a magnifying glass.”

Shivering, she clasps the pendant dangling from her necklace. “Yeah. I'd love to avoid that if possible. I saw the way the media treated Piper and Hunter. I've seen the way you and your bandmates can be hounded. I don't think I could handle that. Plus, if the news did get out, people would come out of the woodwork to share stories about me, and I doubt they would be kind.”

My stomach drops. Does that have anything to do with why she stopped dancing? That comment, paired with her wanting to end her life because of pressure and expectations, spikes my anxiety. I want to help her, but to do that, I need to know what happened.

“Did you⁠—”

“What did you tell your manager?”

I blink at the abrupt change in subject, but I allow it. After our argument last night, when she accused me of lying to her, she probably has no desire to be honest with me about her ballet career anyway.

“I told him I got someone pregnant.”

Her eyes flare, and she grimaces.

Shit. I suppose my choice of words leaves much to be desired.

I lurch forward, eager to fix my blunder. “He was worried it was a fan, so of course, I told him who you are. He's met Piper several times, so he knows who we are to each other.”

Blue irises dark, she scrutinizes me. “And who are we to each other?”

Fuck me. I cornered myself with my big mouth, didn't I?

“You're Piper's sister. You're my friend. And you're the mother of my child.”

“Sounds about right.” She bites her bottom lip and peers over at the little dog again.

I gulp my iced tea, but the cold liquid does nothing to dampen the fire raging in my lower abdomen. Her closeness is my worst enemy. I want to hold her, to touch her, to taste her…I want it all with her. But I can't have it. I have to keep my distance.

She's not my savior.

She's not the cure for my depression and grief.

I have no right to use her to make myself feel better.

“I'm meeting Nastya for lunch.” Her words bring me back to reality. “Once I have my keys, I'll be out of your hair.”

My heart sinks. My limbs feel weighed down. “You're planning to go back to your apartment?”

Her lips form a little O, her expression one of surprise. “Of course I'm going back to my apartment. The whole point of hiring a cleaning service was so I could live there again.”

“But that was before you…”

Her surprised look turns into one of annoyance. “Before I knew I was pregnant. Yes, I'm pregnant with your child.” She pushes away from the table, relaxing her back against the chair. “But that doesn't mean I should stay with you. That I should live in your penthouse. You said it yourself: we are friends, Hade. Not a couple.”

“I just thought⁠—”

“You thought wrong.” She sneaks a glance at the older woman. The smile she gives the little dog makes me jealous. What's so fucking special about that thing?

“Do you like that dog?”

She nods, dragging her eyes back to me. “I'm obsessed with Pomeranians. They're so cute.”

“You should get one. Why haven't you already?”

“Pets aren't allowed in my building.” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe one day.”

She fixes her pendant, and I narrow my eyes at it. I don't think I've seen it before. It's a small blue flower with little diamonds around the edges. Is it a forget-me-not?

“Something new?” I nod at her neck.

“It's from Nastya. She knows how much I love forget-me-nots, so she asked her sister to buy it for me in Minsk.”

“Can I?” I reach forward but pause an inch from her throat. “I saw flowers like this when we were on tour in Europe. Your eyes are the same color.”

Those gorgeous blue eyes sparkle as she leans in, pulling her pendant forward so I can look at it more closely. Each of the flower's petals curves gently, as if caught in a light breeze. In the center, a golden bead perfectly contrasts the blue enamel and little diamonds around it. It's elegant and beautiful, and it suits Riley to a tee.

“I'll keep in mind that they're your favorites.”

She lets out a small huff, as if she doesn't believe me.

Jaw clenched, I will myself not to argue with her, not to defend myself. She doesn't trust me, and I can't blame her. I have to put in the work to prove to her she can count on me.

“I actually love just about any kind of flower. I always have a bouquet at home.” She fiddles with her pendant. “But blue flowers are my favorites.”

I lean back, grinning at her. “Figures. Goddess of flowers and all that.”

A short laugh bubbles out of her. “Goddess of flowers?”

“Uh-huh.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Persephone's got nothing on you.”

She blinks, and the air between us shifts, grows thick. “You know she wasn't just flowers, right? She was the goddess of spring growth.”

“And queen of the underworld too.” I cock a brow and smirk.

She rolls her eyes, though her lips tip up. Then, she checks her phone and clears her throat. “We better go. I need to get my things from your place before I meet Nastya for lunch.”

A sharp pain pierces my heart, and bitterness fills my mouth. All the playfulness disappears. I hate the idea of her leaving, but I need to respect her wishes.

So, I stand and pick up both of our cups before I guide her toward the car.

It's been a week since our visit to Dr. Bell, a week since I last saw Riley.

We've texted, nothing more, and I'm dying to see her. So, I begged her to have lunch with me this afternoon.

At ten, Glenn's name flashes on my phone. I'm not in the mood, and I want to finish my coffee, so I contemplate letting it go to voicemail. But with a sigh, I answer, “Hey.”

“The word is out.” Glenn's words are sharp, cutting through me like a knife slicing cake.

My pulse spikes. “What word?”

“About the pregnancy.”

Every muscle in my body locks up tight. I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “Anything about the mother?”

“Not yet.”

Those two words send me spiraling. The media was relentless after Owen's suicide, and I know this news will be like a fucking explosion.

“I'm sending you an email with a list of outlets running the story,” Glenn continues. “Brace yourself, Hade. Paparazzi are going to be hounding you, and if they find out who the girl is, they won't leave her alone either.”

Riley…

I slip my fingers into my hair, tugging at the roots. This is a fucking nightmare. She doesn't want attention.

She wants to avoid being in the public eye. The mere thought of cameras flashing in her face makes me want to put my fist through the wall.

“I'll handle it,” I grind out, heading to my bedroom to change my clothes. There's no way I'm waiting for our lunch date. “Thanks.”

“Anything you need—just let me know.”

I hang up without saying goodbye and call Wyatt, pacing my walk-in closet like a caged animal. “Hey. How fast can you meet me in the underground garage?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. Avoid the front, please. The press is probably sniffing around.”

“Yes, sir.” The confidence in his tone makes it easier to breathe. I trust this guy with my life. I can't count the number of times he's saved me from unwanted attention.

I put on a black hoodie and pull on a cap then take the elevator to the garage, where Wyatt is already waiting. The hum of the S.U.V vibrates through me, my pulse hammering. Once I slide into the back seat, he looks over his shoulder, his dark brown eyes assessing me.

“You were right. The crowd is already gathering.”

I rock in my seat slightly, my shoulders curling forward. “Fuck. We need to leave, fast.”

He nods and shifts into gear. “Where to?”

“To Riley's.”

He eases out of the garage, turning away from the crowd. I risk a look out the dark-tinted window, though I stay low. Anger and anxiety sweep over me. Why did I think we had a shot at keeping this hidden?

Gossip blogs and even a few newspapers published pictures of Owen's hotel room just a few hours after his death. His parents found out because of the fucking media. No one cared about Owen, about his family, his bandmates.

They wanted profit. They wanted clicks. They wanted fucking traction.

They've left me alone for the last couple of months. I've mostly been locked in my penthouse, living a life that's far too boring for them.

But hiding out after my friend's death, only to end up getting a girl pregnant? That's a fucking sensation.

They don't care about the truth or how their actions affect the people they post about. They want headlines. They'll twist stories and sprinkle them with lies and assumptions.

To them, we aren't people. We're headlines. A story to be sold. I've lived inside this circus for years—my skin is fucking thick. But Riley? She doesn't deserve this, and I'll do everything I can to minimize the damage and protect her because I know exactly how low these people can go.

The plan forms in my head quickly. It's the only way for me to be there for her like I promised. To be there for our baby. I can only hope she'll agree.

I pull my buzzing phone from my pocket and find my mom's name on the screen. Surely, she already read the news.

I don't answer. Riley is my priority now.

Dad calls, then Hunter. I ignore them both, but when Piper's name flashes on my screen, my heart twitches. She's my best friend, though I can't remember the last time I talked to her openly. Before Owen died, that's for sure. There's no way I'm reverting to that now.

I put my phone on silent and slip it back into my pocket. All these conversations can wait. They can think I'm being an asshole. I don't give a flying fuck. This isn't about them.

Wyatt stops around the corner from Riley's place. I pull my cap lower, draw my hood up over it, and climb out of my car. Head low, I hurry into her building, praying no one sees me. If even one person photographs me, it won't take them long to connect the dots.

I knock three times then wait, foot tapping, for her to answer.

“Hayden?” Riley's eyes round as she opens the door for me. She's in a light blue off-the-shoulder summer dress. “We aren't meeting until twelve thirty. What are you doing here?”

I push inside her apartment without waiting for her to invite me in. I shut the door quickly. “Hi. Sorry—something came up, and I changed my plans.”

“I think you mean to say our plans.” She folds her arms over her chest. “What happened? You look like you've just been hit with bad news.”

Oh, how accurate she is.

“Someone leaked the pregnancy news,” I blurt. I don't have the wherewithal to soften the blow. “Your name isn't out yet, but the paparazzi are already outside my building. I didn't want you to find out from the internet, so here I am.”

Her face drains of color as she takes a step back. “I don't—” She presses a hand to her stomach, her shoulders drooping. “I don't want public attention. I⁠—”

She snaps her mouth shut and bolts for the bathroom.

I follow and crouch beside her on the floor as she leans over the toilet. I collect her hair and pull it back, then rub her back in gentle circles.

When her body convulses under my palm, my heart pinches. She's small and fragile beside me, and I feel so damn helpless.

Eventually, she slumps back, her breathing faltering. “Can you…bring me some…w-water?”

I dart to the kitchen, and when I return, she sips the water slowly.

“Did they see you leave your penthouse?” she asks hoarsely.

“No. And I don't think anyone saw me when I got here.”

“Okay, that's good.” She fixes her focus on me, pressing her hand to her stomach. “After today, you can't come here anymore. No one should know we're close.”

“Close?” I rear back like I've been slapped. “I'm sorry, Ry, but you're pregnant with my child. This is a thousand times more serious than us just being close.”

She frowns. “And what do you suggest we do?”

“You're not doing this alone.” I take her hands. “Move in with me.”

Her only response is a scoff.

“I can keep you safe,” I plead, “but only if you stay close. If I start showing up here regularly, the media will catch on, and they'll find you within minutes.”

“I don't like it,” she mutters, her voice defeated.

I move closer and hug her to my chest. “Trust me, I know. But your safety and the safety of our baby come first. It doesn't have to be forever. We can find a new place for you, somewhere closer to me, with better security. Maybe even in my building.”

She leans away, and her eyes search mine. Finally, she nods. “Okay. But you need to leave now. I can't show up at your place with you. I'll call Nastya. She'll help me pack, and her husband can drop me off later.”

“Please let me help too. Then I promise I'll leave.”

She takes a deep breath and nods.

Well, I guess I got myself a roommate.

30

i'm so glad you stayed

Hayden

It's been hours since we packed Riley's things. Nastya joined us, and she was civil with me. She even supported my plan to have Ry move in.

Riley is here now, and she's been unpacking for a good forty minutes. When I offered to help, she said, “No, thanks,” and closed the door in my face.

It stings. I want to be there for her.

With a sigh, I sit on the couch in my living room and pull out my phone. My family's group chat is blowing up because I still haven't returned any of their calls. I only talked to Glenn to update him on the situation.

Mom:

Has anyone heard from Hayden? He's not answering my calls, and with all this news, I want to make sure he's okay.

Dad:

No, but I'm sure he's fine. Probably avoiding everyone until it blows over.

Hunter:

He hasn't answered my calls either, but with all the media attention, I don't blame him.

Pip:

He hasn't responded to me either.

Story:

Not responding to his best friend, I can understand. Not responding to me? A crime.

God, I'm so fucking happy Hudson isn't part of this madness yet. At least one family member isn't judging me.

Story:

And we all saw the pictures of him entering his building. He's fine.

Pip:

He probably doesn't know what to say yet.

Story:

Or maybe he doesn't want to say anything because if he does, it makes it all real. Btw, what do we think? Is it real?

Mom:

It's gossip.

Dad:

With so many outlets saying the same thing, I think it's true.

Hunter:

I'm with you there. Who do we think the baby mama is?

Pip:

That is none of our business.

Story:

Come on, Piper. This is the fun part!

Mom:

Enough. We're spiraling.

Dad:

Has anyone noticed he's actually reading this chat?

Fuck.

Hunter:

Hey, @Hayden, it'd be real nice if you'd pick up the phone when your family is calling you.

Dammit. I have to respond now.

Me:

Sorry for being quiet. I'm okay. The news is true. That's all I can give you right now, but I promise I'll explain when I'm ready. Love you all.

Riley's door opens, so I hit send. Then, I lock my phone and put it on the coffee table.

She probably has questions about why I insisted on moving her in with me, and I want to give her answers.

“Do you want something to eat?” I ask as she lowers herself onto the couch.

“Not really. Grant brought food when he picked us up.”

I assess her, my stomach flooding with warmth. She's in an oversized white tee and black leggings, her hair spilling over her shoulders. The dark circles under her eyes are gone, and the color has returned to her face. She looks healthier than she did a week ago.

“Piper called before I left. She asked if I'd check on you.”

Of course. They've sent her to check on me at least a dozen times. Why wouldn't they now?

“What did you say?” I ask.

“That I'm busy today, but I'd let her know once I had time to come over.”

“Little does she know, you have all the answers to the questions eating at her.”

She pushes me away, giggling. “Stop. I already feel like a traitor.”

Her laughter is melodic. Why didn't I notice it earlier? Its timbre is perfect, deep and soft.

“Then we're both traitors, Ry baby. We're in this together.” I angle in to hug her, but she frowns, her body stiffening. So, I shift back and settle into the cushions. “Feeling settled in yet?”

“More or less. Though it will take some time for me to get used to living with you.”

“But we've lived together before.”

“Not really,” she says. “I stayed with you. It was more of a visit.” She points toward the hallway, where Nastya's husband and I stacked six boxes. “Now I need to figure out how to fit my whole life into your guest room.”

I huff. “Nonsense. You can put your things anywhere.”

“You might regret saying that once you see how much I brought.”

“Ry baby, I helped you pack. Trust me, I know.”

She giggles. “But you left before we were finished. You have no idea how much crap I brought.”

I laugh, holding my hands out in front of me in surrender. “Got it. How do you feel about inviting Nastya and her husband over for dinner later?”

Her eyes go wide and unblinking. Part confusion, part hope, I think.

Only now do I realize how the suggestion sounds. That's the kind of thing couples do with their friends, and we're not a couple. We are just friends. Friends who are expecting a baby together.

Fuck, even that sounds ridiculous.

“No pressure, obviously.”

“Thanks.” Her lips quirk into a smile. “Grant would say yes before Nastya even had the chance to think. He's a big Sabotage fan.”

“Good to know.”

We fall quiet. The moment turns a little awkward, mostly because I'm in my head. I want to show her I'm here for her, that I won't keep secrets from her.

So, I catch a lock of her blue hair with my fingers and muster the courage to open up. “I know we could've figured out another way to keep the paparazzi away from you, but I really think moving you in is the best solution. If we won't be seen together, you'd be just another person who lives in the building.” I hold her gaze, my temperature rising. “After Owen's death, I'm scared shitless I'll miss important signs. I don't want to not be there when someone needs me again. If you're sick, I want to take care of you. If you're scared, I want to hold your hand.

If you're not in the mood to talk to me or just feel like being quiet—I need to know. I can't risk not knowing. I can't risk brushing something off and then losing you too.”

“Thank you, Hade. It means a lot.” She covers my hand with hers on the back of the couch. “Will you tell me what happened with Owen? You blame yourself, but I don't understand why.”

“I don't even know where to start.” I hang my head and rub the back of my neck, the words tasting like lead. “It wasn't like one day he just…decided. It was building—quiet, slow. Owen loved Ines so much. She was his queen, the love of his life. Their relationship was perfect.

She was the band's photographer, so she traveled with us. Witnessing their love was one of the greatest joys. But when Santi was born, Owen changed. He grew quieter and always seemed tired. At first, I thought it was exhaustion—touring, recording, sleepless nights with the baby.

But then he'd say things like, 'Sometimes, it feels like this whole family thing isn't for me.' He'd laugh, try to shrug it off, but the words stuck with me. A week later, he'd tell me how disgusted he was with himself for even thinking that because he loved Ines and Santi.

“He was there for them both most days. He was a good dad, playing with his little boy and reading stories before bed. But some days were dark.

I'd find him alone, in the corner of the studio, eyes empty. He said he thought he was broken. That sometimes when Santi hugged him, he didn't feel anything.”

Riley strokes my fingers, and the warmth of her hand grounds me, gives me the strength to continue. “When he talked like that about his son, about his family, I thought he was just tired. Our life was a circus twenty-four seven. That kind of pressure is hard. He brooded. He was distant.

I tried talking to him. When I suggested he see a therapist, he didn't talk to me for two weeks. Eventually, I gave up on pushing him. I was there when he needed, or so I thought. I didn't talk to Ines about any of it because I was afraid it would hurt her if she knew the things Owen had said. I was afraid it would ruin their family.”

“You did what you thought was right,” Riley whispers, threading her fingers through mine. “You tried to help.”

“I tried to help…” My voice cracks. “I tried to pull him out of it, tried to get him to talk, but I should have done more. I kept telling myself I'd push harder next time I saw him. But the next time never came. I failed my friend, Ry.”

“Hayden…”

I swallow thickly, my chest tightening. “The night before it happened, Owen hugged me longer than usual when we got off stage. Told me I was the brother he never had, that I was the best uncle to Santi. I laughed, called him a sentimental idiot.” My throat burns. “The next day…I found him in his hotel room. There was nothing I could do to bring him back.

He was gone. Forever.” Tears stream down my face, but I don't pay them any attention. I let her see me: broken and full of regrets. “So, yeah. I'm guilty of not pushing hard enough when I knew he wasn't okay.

I should've stayed. I should've forced him to talk to me.”

The silence that shrouds us feels like a heavy weight on my soul. My chest rises and falls rapidly, my vision blurry. I expect her to pull back, to tell me I'm a selfish asshole who let his friend die. Instead, she watches me, eyes soft but intense.

Then, she shakes her head. “It's not your fault,” she says quietly. “You can't blame yourself for the choice Owen made. You were there for him. You cared. That means more than you think.”

My stomach twists painfully. “You don't know that.”

“I do,” she whispers, lowering her gaze to her hands. “There was a time when I thought about it too. Ballet was…eating me alive. The constant competition, being told I wasn't enough, the pressure to always perform, always smile, always be perfect—the weight, the looks. And there was…” She pauses, wringing her hands. “Someone who made it worse. A man who wanted something I wasn't willing to give.”

My throat closes. I can't breathe. “Ry…”

“I thought about ending it.” She swallows audibly. “I went so far as to write a note to Piper. But something inside me snapped, like a voice saying not today. And then, Nastya showed up at my apartment that night, completely unplanned, with a bottle of champagne and the news about her engagement. I took it as a sign I was supposed to stay.”

I can't move. Everything hurts. Her words land like a blow I don't know how to recover from.

“If I had gone through with it, would you have thought it was your fault too? Or maybe Piper's? Or my parents'? Or Nastya's? Would you have thought someone should have pushed me harder to open up?” She shakes her head, smiling sadly. “No one knew. I hid it from everyone.

I was drowning in my problems, but I kept my suffering so quiet, no one even realized. I never asked for help. You're the first person I've ever told.

So no, Hayden, what happened to Owen is not your fault. You can't keep holding that weight. It was never yours to carry.”

Her words go straight through me, an injection into my veins. I blink. My chest is so tight, like an invisible fist is clenching my heart.

I haul her into my lap, cradle her to my chest, and thread my fingers through her hair.

“I'm so glad you stayed. I'm so glad you're here with me.” I nuzzle her neck, inhaling her scent and relishing the way it slides deep under my skin. “I'll always be here for you, Ry. I promise. I will never fail you.”

“I know… I believe you.”

“And if-if it ever gets that bad again…please don't go through it alone. I don't want you to feel like you have to survive that by yourself. Please, Ry…”

“Okay,” she whispers, as I tighten my hold on her.

Thank God. I'll do anything to keep my word.

31

my only love

Riley

Things shifted after the conversation about Owen, after I confessed the truth about my own past. Hayden and I are still friends, still two people stuck together because of an accidental pregnancy, but the care and trust we have for each other grew deeper as we talked.

Pleasant shivers run down my spine as I remember how he held me. When he walked me to my bedroom and kissed me on the cheek, the butterflies in my stomach went wild. I was on cloud nine as I got ready for bed. I even fell asleep with a smile on my face.

I'm a lost cause.

I pad into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from my eyes, and find Hayden already up, standing in front of the window with his back to me. His hair is damp, and there's no T-shirt in sight, giving me the perfect view of his muscular back and tattoos.

At the sight of him, a memory from our first night together flashes in my head. We were chest to chest, me on his lap with my legs draped around his hips, his cock deep inside me. When I came, I dragged my nails up his back, leaving marks, I'm sure.

My cheeks heat, and hot energy swirls inside my lower abdomen.

God, I want him again.

Though after the way he distanced himself from me then established we're just friends, I'm sure it's the last thing he wants.

He catches my reflection and turns with a mug in hand. Instead of good morning, the first thing out of his mouth is: “Did you take your pill?”

I frown. “My…pill?”

“Levothyroxine,” he says, lifting his mug to his lips. “Empty stomach, before breakfast.”

A wave of elation hits me, making my skin tingle. Clearly, he was paying attention to Dr. Bell. It means he actually cares.

“Yeah, I took it. It's been my routine for ten years. I don't see that changing.”

He nods and takes a sip of his drink.

“Why are you up so early?” I open the fridge.

“Couldn't sleep. Everything's too loud again.” He gestures to the coffeepot. “I made enough for two, but I wasn't sure if you're supposed to drink coffee now.”

“Thanks. I'm going to make an omelet with spinach.” I straighten and peer over at him. “Want one?”

“That'd be great.” He snaps his mouth shut and shakes his head. “Dammit. It's me who needs to take care of you…and I'm already failing.”

I roll my eyes. “I'm not sick, I'm pregnant, and I feel good enough to take care of myself.” I shrug. “Besides, I love to cook.”

“I missed your food like crazy while you were in California. You sure you aren't a witch? Because I'm pretty sure you bewitched me with your cooking,” he muses.

“Maybe part witch.” With a wink, I turn to quickly crack four eggs into a bowl and whisk them, adding a splash of milk. “Why couldn't you sleep?”

He doesn't reply, and I don't insist.

He sits at the bar while I put the skillet on the stove and add butter. It melts with a soft hiss, the scent spreading through the kitchen. Once I've poured the eggs into the skillet, I toss in a handful of fresh spinach and season it with a bit of salt. The whole time, he keeps his eyes trained on me. I can feel his attention, even with my back turned.

It's like a summer rain pouring down on me, like a gentle caress on my skin. Maybe it's a weird analogy, but I can't help myself. I love rain, and I would've done anything for one rainy day this summer.

I tilt the pan just right and nudge the edges in with a spatula, relishing the moment. It feels special. Important. The two of us in his kitchen, me making breakfast, him watching me. I'm filled with warmth and a sense of comfort. As I settle into the sensation, I can't help but wonder what our future will be like. Will I stay here until the baby is born? Will I move back to my place? Or to an apartment nearby?

Teeth digging into my bottom lip, I close my eyes, grounding myself. It's too soon to think about all that. So many things could change in the next seven months, and I realize that since I moved in yesterday, I haven't once considered the two of us might become something more than what we are now.

Maybe I'm finally moving on?

“Ry?”

I shudder at the sound of his voice. It's much closer than I expected.

He's at my side, his shoulder brushing mine, his eyebrows pulled together. “Didn't you hear me? I asked if you needed help.”

“Oh, sorry. I got lost in my thoughts.” I give him a sheepish smile. “Will you get plates?”

He nods, studying me, then shuffles to the cupboard.

“Thanks.”

While we sit, he's relaxed, but I can't stop fidgeting.

“Mm, delicious,” he murmurs after he takes his first bite.

“Glad you like it.” I pick up my glass of apple juice. “How do you feel now?”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You said you couldn't sleep. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I'm good.” He takes a deep breath. “I woke up early and looked at my phone to check the time. There was an email from Glenn waiting. He sent me a link to the tracks we recorded for our new album.”

“Oh.” I deflate in my seat, my back rounding. “Totally get why you couldn't sleep.”

“I sent it to Ines and asked Glenn to send it to Owen's parents too.”

Using the side of my fork, I cut a piece of my omelet. “Why didn't you send it to his parents yourself?”

“They don't talk to me anymore.”

I jerk my head back, my stomach sinking. “What do you mean?”

“Owen's mom kind of blamed his death on Ines. Apparently, I wasn't the only one he talked to about how he felt sometimes. He'd opened up to his mom a little too, but I saw him daily. He'd talk to me about the bad but also the good.

He told me more than once how terrible he felt about the negative thoughts that suffocated him. But his mom only ever heard the bad, so she assumed Ines wasn't supportive, that she'd driven him to do it.” He hangs his head low. “Grief makes us irrational, but whether she meant it or not, it hurt Ines. And when Owen's mom insisted Ines and Santi move to L.A so they could be closer to each other…Ines said no. When I refused to try to talk her into it, I ended up on Owen's parents' shit list.”

“I can't even imagine how that felt. They're both hurting, both grieving, and instead of supporting each other…” I shake my head. “Though I guess it shouldn't surprise me. It's a lot like what happened to Mom with Piper's dad's family.”

The warmth in his gaze soaks into me. Our connection is so natural, so easy. Does he notice it too?

“Want to listen to the album after breakfast?” he asks quietly.

“Absolutely.” I nod.

When we're finished, he collects the dishes. “Any plans for today?”

“Not really.” I finish the last of my juice and set the glass on the table. “I thought I'd run out for groceries.”

“Really?” He puts one plate into the dishwasher, then the other. “I just stocked the fridge.”

“I really want some strawberry ice cream. And something else—I'm not sure what yet. My cravings are very chaotic.”

“Let me get dressed and I'll—” He lets out a low growl. “I can't even go with you. Fuck.”

I set my elbows on the counter and rest my chin in my hands. “Yeah, there's no way we can go anywhere together now.” I sigh. “We're kinda trapped.”

He puts his mug in the dishwasher and leans against the counter. “I know it feels impossible right now, but it'll calm down. And we've got Wyatt. If he drives, we can go places together. We just have to leave through the underground garage.”

“That doesn't exactly solve the problem.” I tilt my head to the side. “Sure, we can leave together, but we can't show up anywhere. Not anywhere public, at least.”

He sighs, his shoulders sagging. “The label will announce our new album soon. That'll steer attention away from the pregnancy.”

“I think you're wrong.” I clasp the pendant around my neck. My breaths quicken. “I'm sure it'll only fuel their curiosity.”

“Ry…”

“It'll be so much worse once the album is announced. I'll end up in all the gossip blogs. Everyone will be talking about me. What a failure I am…what a coward…” My breaths saw in and out of my lungs painfully. Fuck, this is not good, not good at all.

“Hey.” His voice is soft as he steps closer to me. “Look at me, Ry.”

I force myself to focus on him, my body shaking. He hovers over me then wraps me in a tight, warm hug, running a hand up and down my back. His scent and the warmth of his skin are enticing. I hide my face in his chest.

“Everything will be okay. I'm here for you, and I always will be,” he whispers. “I won't let anyone hurt you. They can fucking try, Ry. They can fucking try. If anyone so much as opens their mouth, I'll slap them with a lawsuit.”

I sniffle. “You can't sue people for speaking the truth.”

“What truth?” He rears back, eyes searching mine. “You're not a failure. You're not a coward. Pursuing your dreams takes a lot of courage, but it takes even more to walk away when you're unhappy.” Gently, he cups my face, brushing away my tears with his thumbs. “You're phenomenal, Ry baby. Please remember that.”

Every word goes straight to my heart, to that hopeful little organ that can't stop dreaming about this man. That keeps on hoping and believing.

With the way he looks at me now? His green eyes warm, his smile soft? I will never move on from him. He was my first crush. My first unrequited love.

Hayden Hale is my sister's best friend. My brother-in-law. My baby daddy.

But he'll always be my only love…even if he never loves me back.

My throat grows thick. “Thank you.”

“You're very welcome.” He kisses my forehead and steps back. “Ready to hear the new album?”

“More than anything.”

When the first chords spill from the speakers, I get literal chills. It's not just music—it's memories, the sounds, the voices, the words that will remain long after we are all gone.

I once heard we all die twice. The first time is our actual death. The second is when there's no one left to remember us. But with these songs? This music? Owen's legacy will live forever.

By the third track, I'm crying. Owen harmonizes with Hayden perfectly. His voice and the sounds of his guitar slip under my skin and settle there, warming my insides and making my heartbeat steady and calm.

I accidentally brush Hayden's hand, but instead of pulling away, he twines our fingers and gives mine a little squeeze.

When the fourth track starts and Owen's voice cuts through, a chill runs up my spine. It's haunting and raw and completely unexpected. He never sang lead vocals, but he sounds incredible. I close my eyes and see him on stage. The song brings him to life, makes me feel like he's in the room with us. I press my hand to my chest and turn to Hayden.

His jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, but his eyes instantly snap to mine.

We stare at one another, our faces tearstained.

He leans in, and my pulse quickens. I hold my breath as the world around us ceases to exist. He searches my face, his gaze dropping to my lips. It feels inevitable⁠—

Then, his phone rings, halting the music and shattering the moment into a thousand pieces.

He pulls back and picks up the device from the table. His Adam's apple moves up and down as he swallows.

I think I know who it is.

Then, with a sigh, he stands and strides away. “Hey, Ines,” he says as he leaves the room.

I was right.

When Hayden returns, he's dressed in black jeans, a black tee, and white sneakers.

“I need to go. Ines listened to the album and…she's not doing well. I'm going to pick up Santi and take him to the playground. I'm really sorry, Ry. I'll be home as soon as I can.”

I nod.

“There are three more songs we didn't listen⁠—”

“We can do it once you're back. Don't worry.” I flash him a grin. “Go. They need you.”

He hesitates, eyebrows pulled together. My smile is so fake, I'm sure he sees right through it.

“Ry…”

“Go, Hayden. I'll be fine.” I stand and lift my chin. “I'll find something to busy myself with.”

Once the doors of the elevator close behind him, I slump back on the couch and stare at the wall. It's decorated with pictures from several Sabotage shows, images of the guys with other famous artists, their gold album plaque, a Billboard award.

The band is such a huge part of his life, and it always will be. This hiatus won't last forever. Eventually, he'll be back in the studio, back on the road.

I'm deluding myself if I think we could ever be more than co-parents.

I hide my face in my hands and cry. The pregnancy hormones amplify every emotion, the mood swings that plague me making me dizzy. The rational part of me understands why Ines called him. It gets why he dropped everything and went to her. But the irrational part of me, the part my heart rules, is hurting.

No matter how close we get, it'll never be enough.

32

i've been thinking about you

Hayden

Wyatt showed up in a black B.M.W iX. Apparently, the label insisted. I didn't argue. They know best when it comes to protecting their artists. The paparazzi are still waiting for a juicy shot, for a picture of me with the mysterious woman who's carrying my child. It's been a day, but their presence outside my building is already pissing me off.

I drop my head back against the headrest, my hat pulled low. When I woke up this morning and saw Glenn's email, I was equal parts excited and terrified to listen to the final version of the album. Riley's presence, her delicious omelet, and her vulnerability colored my white kitchen with so many hues, I almost felt hopeful again.

I've never felt the kind of protectiveness that kicks in when she's around. My instincts to keep her safe, to make her happy, go into overdrive. She makes everything lighter, more comfortable. I can fully breathe when she's around.

I couldn't have listened to the album with anyone else but her.

It was cathartic. Emotional. Gut-wrenching. I was all over the place when “Never,” the reworked version of Owen's song, played. He wrote it himself, music and lyrics. Bo, Jimmy, and I added our parts, and I sang the last chorus, since Owen didn't get it recorded before he left us. I spent two weeks in the studio trying to get it right.

I wanted to kiss Riley so badly when she turned to me, clearly full of the same emotions that flooded me. To feel her lips on mine, her hot breath fanning over my cheek, her skin under my hands—I wanted all of her.

Then, Ines called. I should have been relieved to be interrupted. Instead, I'm full of regret. Not only because I didn't get to kiss Riley, but because I left her all alone. Sure, she told me to, swearing she'd be fine, but her fake smile didn't fool me for a second.

And yet, I'm in the car, heading to Ines' place.

Fuck, I seriously need to be slapped upside the head.

Piper calls on the way, teasing me when I actually answer.

“Sorry about that.” I rub the back of my neck. “Yesterday was too much.”

She chuckles. “Tell me about it.” She takes a deep breath. “So, based on your text, it's safe to say the news is true?”

My stomach clenches. “Yes.”

“Okay. When you're ready to talk, I'm here for you. You know I'll never judge you.”

Apprehension bubbles up inside me. Not even when she finds out I got her little sister pregnant? “I know,” I lie.

“Your mom is freaked out. After what happened with Owen, the news was a bit too much for her. She's planning to fly out there.”

My heartbeat instantly spikes. “To New York?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck. Please talk her out of it. Now isn't the time.”

“Why not?”

“B-because this whole situation is complicated,” I ramble. “I don't need my mom breathing down my neck while I'm trying to figure things out.”

“Who did you knock up? Is it a fan?”

The words it's your little sister are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them. Riley wants to wait until she's twelve weeks along before announcing it to our families, and I want to respect that.

“It's not a fan, not an ex.” I lick my dry lips. “I'll tell you everything eventually, just not now.”

She huffs. “Fine. And don't worry. Hunter doesn't think it's a good idea for your mom to go to New York right now either. We'll talk her out of it.”

“Why does he think it's a bad idea?”

“Because, and I quote, 'Hayden is a grown-ass man. Let him deal with his shit himself. When he's ready, he'll talk to us.'”

Warmth spreads through my veins. I have the best brother in the world.

Ines opens the door right away, like she's been waiting for me. Her eyes are red, but she smiles faintly as she steps aside to let me in.

“Hey.” I wrap her in a hug.

She hugs me back, sniffling into my chest. “I feel terrible for asking you to come, but…I couldn't stop replaying the album.”

“That's okay.” I take a step back. “Where's Santi?”

“His nanny took him to the playground. I told him you'd meet him there later.”

I give her an encouraging smile. “I'm always down to play with your little man.”

Her body relaxes, her shoulders rounding. “Want a cup of coffee or some tea?”

“Just water is fine.”

While she fills a glass, I amble to the living room and sit on the couch.

“Thank you so much for letting me listen to the album.” Ines sits beside me and wrings her hands. “It's like he's here again.”

My heart twists painfully. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

There's not a trace of awkwardness, no underlying tension between us after the almost-kiss. It's just us—Owen's best friend and Owen's wife. Six months after his death, we're back to who we've always been to each other.

We talk about him—about the terrible jokes he used to make at rehearsals, about how he'd refuse to pose for pictures when he wanted to tease Ines, the way he'd drive Bo, Jimmy, and me crazy. We talk about how he'd hum lullabies after Santi was born. We're so lost in our memories that for a second, it almost feels like he'll walk through the door and sit on the couch with us, his curls falling into his eyes. He'd hug Ines close and call her mi reina. Then, he'd tell me not to fuck up the highest notes in “Ultimatum.”

I had my doubts about this album. I wasn't sure I had it in me to go back to the studio, to play and sing again. But looking at Ines now, at how happy she is, despite her tears? It was the right decision.

“Enough about me,” she says, clapping once. “How are you?”

“I'm okay.” I shrug.

“Still planning to come to Santi's birthday party on Saturday?”

I nod, fixing my focus on the wall where she hangs Santi's drawings. They're all a creative mess at best. One is of a little orange dog sitting on a blob that might be a couch, but I'm not sure. It looks like the dog Riley and I saw at the café. The Pomeranian.

An image of Riley pops into my head, and before I have time to think about what I'm saying, the words are already out: “I want you to meet someone.”

Ines arches an eyebrow. “Someone?”

I dip my chin, my heart suddenly racing. “Someone special.”

She tilts her head, her curly black hair falling over her shoulder, and a mischievous glint flashes in her eyes. “Could this special person be the woman the gossip sites are saying you knocked up?”

I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, and it's not gossip.”

“Wow.” She pats my hand. “Then congratulations. That's amazing news.”

I try to smile, but from the way her brows pull together, it probably looks more like a grimace.

“What's wrong?” she asks. “Sure, it was probably a huge surprise, but…why the long face?”

I rub the back of my neck, my heart thrashing against my rib cage. “Because I'm terrified. The fear of hurting this girl is getting the best of me. I'm afraid I only want her because I'm grieving. Because I'm lonely. Because I don't know how to fill the hole in my chest that opened when Owen died.”

Ines examines me for a moment. Then, she shakes her head. “No. If your feelings were tied to grief or loneliness, you would've clung to me the way I tried to cling to you. But you didn't. You kept your distance.”

“But—”

“How often do you think about her? And I don't just mean when you're alone and brooding. Are there moments when you're actually busy, when you look at something that reminds you of her?”

I drop my head into my hands. “All the time.”

Her voice is soft when she says, “Then that's not grief. That's true interest. You want this girl because of who she is. Because she's your person.”

I'm not sure I'm ready to believe it, but her words slip under my skin, straight to my thundering heart. They make their way to my brain, where I've carefully stacked memories of Riley. Emotion bubbles up inside me. I want to go home. I want to pull her into my arms. But for now, I push the temptation down. First, I need to see Santi.

At the door, Ines says, “Why don't you bring your special person to Santi's birthday?”

A traitorous smile gives away exactly what I'm feeling. My own body is betraying me with its reactions to anything Riley-related.

I'm hopeless.

“I'll ask her. Thank you so much, Ines.”

She gives me a quick side hug. “No, thank you. I'll be forever grateful for everything you're doing for Santi and me.”

“You're my family, Ines. You're not getting rid of me now.”

“I was counting on that.” She winks. “See you on Saturday…with your special someone.”

By the time I get home, holding a bouquet of forget-me-nots, it's almost 5 PM Riley is curled up on the couch under a throw blanket, the T.V on, the volume low.

She looks up as I step into the room, and her eyes widen when they land on the bouquet.

“Hey,” I say, coming closer. “These are for you.”

She sits up and takes them, her expression filled with genuine excitement. Damn, I'm an asshole for not bringing her flowers before.

“Thank you.” Her face falls. “Though if this is penance for leaving me alone all day, I can't take it.”

Snorting, I sit beside her. “It's not. I just…” I sigh, suddenly nervous. “I wanted you to know I've been thinking about you.”

The corner of her mouth hikes up. “Then it's very thoughtful of you. These are⁠—”

“Your favorites. I remembered.”

Her responding smile is nearly blinding. “How is Ines?”

“She's better now. I visited with her for a little while. We talked about the album and Owen, but I spent most of the day at the park with Santi.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her cheek. “How are you?”

“I'm fine.” She lowers her head a fraction. “Went to the store for ice cream and ended up buying all kinds of stuff. Oranges, grapes, strawberries, a jar of honey, and a cheesecake. Your doorman probably thought I was crazy when I walked in, loaded down with paper bags.”

Just the thought of her carrying groceries boils my blood. I should've been here to help.

“Did James help you bring them up?” I ask in a strained voice.

“He offered, but I said no.” She shrugs. “I'd already carried them on my own for a block. Do you really think I couldn't ride the elevator without help?”

“You can do anything,” I murmur, “but it doesn't mean you should have to. I'm here for you if you need anything. Literally.”

The way she bites her bottom lip sends a hot bolt of energy right to my groin.

“Careful, Hade,” she whispers. “I might have needs you aren't ready to fulfill.”

I smirk. “Let's wait and see.”

The atmosphere between us charges, the air vibrating. I lean in, my fingertips itching to feel her skin. Jesus, I want her so badly, it's fucking insane.

“Hade?” she asks in a sweet voice.

I swallow thickly, my throat dry. “Yeah?”

“Have you ever seen Wednesday?”

What? I pull back. “Um, no. I haven't.”

“Want to watch it with me? I watched the first episode, but I don't mind starting over.”

Blinking, I will my brain to fire on all cylinders. Her playful smile tells me she's aware of the state she put me in. It also tells me she doesn't regret it.

Neither do I, because flirting with her feels like oxygen—I can't live without it.

33

you're like a princess

Riley

The elevator ride is a blur. My brain is too wired. When I agreed to come to Santi's birthday, I didn't expect to feel nearly this nervous.

Hayden tugs on my hand, ripping me out of my thoughts. He looks so good in his white shirt and blue jeans, his hair a mess, as usual. But not even admiring him brings me relief.

He traces my cheek with his fingertips. Heat creeps up the back of my neck. I'm not used to this kind of affection from him.

“You okay?” he asks, ducking his head low. “Your silence is freaking me out a little.”

The elevator stops and the doors open, saving me from having to answer. We step into the hallway, but rather than head for Ines' apartment, he turns and focuses on me.

“What's wrong?”

I bite my bottom lip. “I'm worried.”

“About?” He takes my chin between his thumb and index finger and tilts my face up. His dark green eyes shine warmly, a smile lighting up his clean-shaven face. “Talk to me, Ry baby.”

My heart melts at the kindness in his expression, but my apprehension doesn't fade. “What if people see us together? What about the other guests? What if someone has already taken a picture of us?”

He sighs. “We came separately. We're okay,” he assures me. “As for other people, the kids' portion of the party is over. It'll just be us and Ines and Santi.”

My heart lifts a little. “Really?”

“Really. Ines knows all too well what it's like to be hounded by paparazzi. She suggested we come after the rest of the guests leave and have our own little party. I agreed it was a good idea.” He holds my gaze. “I'll do anything to keep you safe. Never doubt that.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

“You're very welcome.” He kisses my cheek, tucks the gift he bought for Santi under his arm, and clasps my hand. “Let's introduce you to my family.”

It's comforting and awe-inspiring, the way he cares about Owen's widow and son. It's more proof that blood doesn't make a family. It makes me hopeful we can give our baby the best life.

Our baby… Goodness, it's still absolutely surreal.

Hayden knocks and flashes me a cute little grin. I smile back, willing my nerves to calm down.

The door opens, and a woman with lively, dark brown eyes and a wide smile greets us. Ines is beautiful. I've seen her in plenty of photos, but we've never met. Her expression is open and inviting, her gaze warm. There's not a hint of awkwardness on her face, and it puts me at ease.

“Hey.” Hayden steps inside, guiding me in by the hand.

“Hi.” Her voice is clear and melodic. “So happy you made it.”

“Of course.” He lets go of my hand and quickly hugs her. Then, he steps back and, with a hand on the small of my back, he says, “Ines, this is Riley. Riley, this is Ines.”

I feel his touch through my sundress as if his hand is plastered to my skin.

“It's very nice to meet you,” I murmur. “Thank you so much for inviting me.”

“You too.” She gives me a quick hug. “I'm happy to have you here. It's an honor to meet the special someone of a person I care so much about.”

Special someone? I sneak a peek at Hayden, but all I get is a broad smile. Whatever her words mean, they haven't fazed him.

A little boy with curly chestnut hair, dressed in a white tee and shorts, barrels into the foyer, heading straight for Hayden.

“Tío!” he yells, throwing himself at Hayden's legs.

Hayden crouches and presses him to his chest. “Happy birthday, buddy.” He moves back and holds out the gift. “This is for you.”

Santi takes the box from him, beaming. It's clear he's a happy child, despite the tragedy.

When his eyes find me, his mouth forms a little O. “You're like a princess.”

That simple phrase sucks all the tension and nerves out of me. Being around kids always brings me comfort. Their energy is so contagious, and Santi is no exception.

Ines laughs, shaking her head. “Santi, honey, this is Riley. She's Hayden's friend.”

I crouch to greet him, the curiosity in his dark brown eyes making me smile. “Hi, Santi. Happy birthday.”

“I'm three,” he tells me, proudly puffing out his chest.

“Really?” I widen my eyes and stand again. “Soon, you'll be bigger than Uncle Hayden over here.”

That comment earns me a snort from said uncle.

Beaming, Santi takes my hand and tugs me farther into the apartment. Ines smiles kindly as I pass, and it saps away the rest of my anxiety. “Tío, come,” the little boy commands.

With a chuckle, Hayden follows us.

The evening goes by quickly and easily. We eat leftover cake and laugh about how ridiculous some of the toys Santi's friends got him are. The atmosphere is light and bubbly, and my body feels weightless.

Santi doesn't let us out of his sight. He insists we help him build a lego spaceship, and once we do, he asks us to play a game involving a knight and a dragon.

“Okay, who should I be?” Hayden asks. He sits cross-legged on the floor, his cheeks still flushed from their rousing game of soccer in the hallway.

“The dragon. Big and bad,” Santi replies. He breaks into a grin. “I am the knight.”

“You sure are, buddy.”

“And Riley is the princess.” He slips his sticky little palm in mine. “My princess.”

I grin at him. “How could I say no to such a wonderful knight?” I look at Hayden, and when I find he's already watching me, affection and another emotion I'm too afraid to name overtake me. “Is the big, bad dragon going to kidnap me?”

“Yes.” Santi ushers me to his bedroom, where he instructs me to sit on his bed until he comes to save me.

Hayden joins me a moment later, dropping to the mattress beside me. “Having fun, Ry baby?”

“Uh-huh.” I nod. “You?”

He licks his bottom lip, drinking me in, his eyes bright. “Yeah. I'm having a blast.”

My heart beats quickly, my breaths coming fast. Hands clasped, I work to control my response to him. It's nearly impossible. I'm full of anticipation.

His focus slides to my lips, and the whole world stops. It's just me and him, and I've never wanted him to kiss me more.

“Where's Santi?” I ask hoarsely.

“He's changing, putting on his knight costume. Ines is helping him.” He chuckles. “It's funny that it took one very observant three-year-old for me to realize you are indeed a princess.”

“He's very observant for sure, because you are big and…bad.”

“Careful, Ry.” He leans in, our breaths mingling. “You make it sound like a compliment.”

A shiver works its way through me. “Because it is.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, his lips are on mine. He kisses me gently, his intoxicating scent making my head spin, but the kiss is fleeting. Before I'm ready, he rears back, wearing a beautiful smile.

There isn't an ounce of regret on his face.

“Sorry,” he says. “I couldn't help myself.”

Little feet thwack against the hallway floor, signaling the moment is over.

And I'm okay with it. That simple kiss gave me hope this is more than just friendship for him too.

Santi rushes into the room, eyes sparkling with excitement. He's in a helmet, carrying a wooden sword and a shield. “Ready to play?”

Hayden wraps his fingers around mine and squeezes lightly. Then, he stands and winks at the boy. “Always, kid.”

We play until Santi is nearly delusional because he's so tired. While Hayden reads him a bedtime story, Ines and I sit in the living room, sipping tea.

“Santi likes you,” she says. “I've never seen him warm up to a person so quickly.”

“I like him too.” I smile. “He's amazing.”

Her gaze lingers on me, her expression kind. “So are you. Hayden is like family to me, so I'm happy for him.”

I look around the room. “We aren't a couple. We're just…friends expecting a baby together.”

The chuckle that leaves her mouth is soft. “I see the way he looks at you, so I'd say you aren't a couple yet.” She places her hand on my knee. “He wanted me to meet you, told me you were special.”

Emotion clogs my throat, so I sip my tea, grounding myself.

“Losing Owen was hard on him. They were incredibly close. I can't imagine what it was like for Hade to find him.” She presses her hand to her chest, inhaling and exhaling slowly. She peers at me again, eyes brimming with tears. “His death shattered our world, but I had to keep going.

Santi is my reason why I'm working so hard to get my life back on track. Hade struggled to find his reason for a long time, but something changed recently. He smiles more, and it's not fake or forced. His eyes are bright and full of life. It wasn't until a few days ago that I realized it's because of you.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, my heart full.

“Just speaking my truth.” She swipes at a tear rolling down her cheek. “And if you decide to do a pregnancy photoshoot, I'd love to take the photos for you. There's no way I'm going back to working with bands or traveling now that it's just Santi and me, so I'm working on a new portfolio.”

“I'd love to.”

She shows me a few images she's taken recently, and I immediately fall in love. Her pictures are full of life. She's talented, and her work makes it obvious that she loves what she does.

The city lights flicker through the tinted windows as Wyatt takes us back to the penthouse. We had a great time, but I'm wiped. Hayden has been silent since we got in the car. One hand loose on his knee, he drums his fingers absently against the door.

“Thank you,” he says eventually, his voice low.

Frowning, I survey him. “For what?”

“For coming tonight. For being…you.” He meets my eyes. “Santi loves you.” A heartbeat later, a crooked smile pulls at his lips. “So does Ines.”

Warmth unfurls in my chest and spreads through my limbs. “I like them too. Thank you so much for inviting me. I had a great time.”

“I'm glad.”

The moment stretches between us, but the silence is comfortable, full of hope. And when he takes my hand in his, I think maybe Ines was right.

The last two weeks have been filled with a whirlwind of emotions. I'm lying to Piper and my parents. They don't know I'm staying with Hayden, and we're still hiding my pregnancy. Without Nastya, I would've lost my mind. She and I see each other a few times a week, taking walks, going to lunch, or hanging out at the penthouse. She's here for me anytime I need her. Thank God, because I need someone to help me decipher my mix of feelings surrounding Hayden.

We flirt, sure. We have breakfast together most mornings and watch T.V before bed. He's caring and thoughtful, and he brings me flowers almost every day.

I haven't pushed for more, too worried his rejection would break me completely. He hasn't taken the initiative either. So except for the little kiss we shared in Santi's room on his birthday, nothing has changed between us.

Sometimes, when my hormones get the best of me, I think about going back to my apartment and living on my own. But the media storm hasn't passed. If anything, it's only gotten louder after the label announced the release date for the new album on Monday. Maybe then, three weeks from now, it'll die down, though I doubt it. Hayden is barely home. He spends his days preparing and doing interviews.

Day by day, he looks more and more like his old self. It's a relief, but there's still a dark side stopping me from being completely happy. It's hard to let go of fear and apprehension with all the theories circulating: about the album, about the songs, but also about the identity of the woman carrying Hayden's child.

Last night, when I was doomscrolling before bed, I saw a post speculating Hayden's ex-girlfriend, an Argentinian actress, is his baby mama. The comments made me nauseous. Some were mean, but many were hoping it was true because “she's as stunning as he is. Their baby would be the most beautiful child in the world.”

Naturally, I woke up grumpier than usual this morning, just in time for my eleven-week appointment.

I leave earlier than Hayden and slip into the taxi, easily avoiding the crowd. When a familiar wave of nausea hits, I focus on breathing through it. It's better if I don't think about the media circus surrounding his life.

Dr. Bell greets me warmly when she enters the room. Then, she gets down to business, asking me pertinent questions. I rattle off the usual: Yes, I'm taking my meds every morning on an empty stomach.

Yes, sometimes I have morning sickness. Yes, overall, I feel well; I'm only slightly more tired than usual. Yes, my mood swings like a pendulum, and it gets on my nerves.

Once she's done with her questions, I ask one of mine. Maybe it's silly, but I've been wanting to ask since my first visit. “And…um, what about sex? Is it safe?”

“Yes.” She nods. “Unless we discover specific complications later, intimacy is perfectly safe. Listen to your body, communicate with your partner. Your pregnancy is progressing well.”

I nod, relief loosening the knots inside my chest. Though the word “partner” leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

Hayden is not my partner. Period.

He arrives right as that thought hits me, dressed in a white tee and dark blue jeans. Lately, he's been dressing in lighter, brighter colors. For a long time, he wore nothing but black.

A little out of breath, his hat in his hand, he smiles. “Sorry. Stuck in traffic.” He stops beside the exam table, studying me. “Is everything okay?”

I nod. He was on a call when I left. Honestly, I wasn't sure he'd make it, but he did. For me, for us. He's here, just like he promised.

“Good timing, Mr. Hale.” Dr. Bell smiles. “Ready to listen to your baby's heartbeat?”

“Yes.” I sneak a glance at him.

His jaw is tight, and his shoulders are tense in a way I don't understand.

When she presses the Doppler to my belly, the room fills with the sound of a galloping heartbeat. My chest nearly bursts with happiness. Somehow, this moment makes our situation real.

As if the tests, the bloodwork weren't enough to make me believe, I can hear it: there's a life inside me. A little girl or a little boy. I don't care, honestly. I'm just happy they're mine.

Hayden's apprehension has vanished. His dark green eyes shine brightly, his lips parted in wonder. I don't know what's going on in his head, but he looks as though his universe has shifted, like this moment has made my pregnancy and his impending fatherhood real for him too. I grasp his hand and squeeze it, silently letting him know I'm here. He squeezes back then lifts my hand and presses it to his lips.

“Heartbeat is strong. About one hundred sixty-five beats per minute, which is right where we want it to be,” Dr. Bell says as she shuts off the Doppler. “We'll see you again at around fifteen weeks. At that visit, we'll check your thyroid levels again.”

Hayden clears his throat. “When do we find out the baby's sex?”

Dr. Bell smiles. “We'll do the anatomy scan somewhere between eighteen and twenty weeks. That's when you can find out the baby's sex if you'd like.”

“Thank you.” He nods, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“For now, Ms. Evans, keep taking your medication and vitamins,” the doctor says, “and call me if you notice anything unusual. You're doing really well.”

When Hayden and I leave the clinic, he puts his hat on, but he doesn't hurry to the car. Instead, he turns to face me, smiling. “How about a little walk through Central Park?”

I blink. “But the paparazzi⁠—”

“We'll be careful. I've got you. I promise.” He takes a step closer and grasps my hands. “I hate that we can never go out together. While I love hanging out with you at home, I kind of feel like Hades keeping you locked in the Underworld.”

Laughter bubbles out of me. “A Hades and Persephone reference? Really?”

“Didn't I tell you you're the goddess of flowers?” He smirks. “So, how about a walk?”

“Fine,” I say, even as trepidation rolls through me. This probably isn't a good idea, but I can't say no to spending time with this man.

The air is warm but lighter, like we're finally leaving summer behind. The trees in the park soften the city's constant hum. Here, the sounds come from joggers as they pass, from the laughter and conversations of people enjoying the day. I even hear the faint strum of a guitar.

Above us, the clouds are stretched thin, and something in the way the air presses against my skin tells me rain isn't far off. Giddiness rises inside me. I've been craving thunderstorms for weeks.

We don't touch, and we keep several inches of space between our bodies. He hums under his breath, a melody I don't think I've heard before. Is it something new?

Before I can ask, he grabs my hand, and with a quick tug, he twirls me under his arm. It's playful and so achingly normal, it steals my breath.

I laugh as he twirls me again. When he eases me to a stop, he puts a hand on my hip to steady me, pulling me closer.

His eyes glimmer with warmth. “God, you should still be dancing.”

“I dance for myself,” I say quietly. “I quit ballet for a reason.”

“Why, Ry? You mentioned being under a lot of pressure, the competition, but is there more?”

I take a deep breath. He was so open with me about his struggles after Owen's death. I can do the same for him, can't I? Exhaling, I meet his eye and tell him everything. I stick with the short version, though. I don't want to remember all the details.

“It was an endless competition,” I tell him. “Fake smiles everywhere while everyone hid knives behind their backs. The whispers, the gossip, the mean-girl club—it was worse than high school. The pressure was so intense that at one point, I cried myself to sleep every fucking night. Nastya was the only person I could trust, but then she got injured.”

Hayden squeezes my hand.

“I was never enough. We lived under a magnifying glass, all our flaws and insecurities constantly pointed out. I fell in love with ballet when I was a little girl, but it was tearing me apart. Then, a new ballet master took over.

He didn't think I had enough talent for the big parts. He offered to train me, as a favor.” My voice cracks. “I said no. Then, I was given a smaller part, followed by an even smaller one. I was so depressed. I lived with it, I danced through it, but I was dying on the inside.

I was ready to end it all, as you already know.” I sniffle, holding back my tears. “After that day, when Nastya showed up and I decided I wasn't ready to leave this Earth, I decided to quit. No matter how much I loved dancing and being on stage, it wasn't worth losing myself.”

Hayden tugs me closer and buries his face in my neck. “You're the strongest person I know,” he whispers. “I'm so proud of you.” He rears back. “Does this ballet master still⁠—”

“No. Last I heard, he was in Berlin. He's probably looking for favorites there.” I sigh. “There are so many incredible, talented people in ballet who respect their dancers, but, like everywhere, bad apples exist. I was just unfortunate enough to be surrounded by them.”

He kisses my forehead. “Thank you for opening up to me. It means more than you know.”

34

ride me, baby

Hayden

I thought it would be weird to sit at the piano after so long. Instead, my fingers buzz, my heart thrumming to the rhythm of the music I'm playing.

But I can't get it right. No matter how many times I try, nothing sounds like the melody that came to me in the doctor's office.

It was loud and clear after we heard the baby's heartbeat.

I've never experienced anything like that in my life.

Listening to the staccato beat was an out-of-body experience. The wave of tenderness that washed over me left me in awe. Riley is growing a life inside her belly, a life we created together. I swear, I already love this baby more than anything in the world.

The melody came the moment Dr. Bell turned off the Doppler. I listened to her instructions, putting up a barrier in my mind so I didn't miss a thing. But as soon as we left the clinic, it hit me again. It's nothing like the songs I've written for Sabotage, but I want to get it right. This is the first melody since Owen's death.

The symbolism isn't lost on me. Owen's life ended, and I couldn't write music. I hear my baby's heartbeat, a sign of new life, and after seven long months, the desire to write returns.

It's almost like Owen is telling me it's time to move on.

If it's true, I hear you, man.

There isn't a day I don't miss him, especially now, as we prepare for the album's release. But over the last few weeks, I've felt lighter, more at ease. I no longer want to spend all day hiding beneath the covers, and I'm not tempted to rot on the couch anymore.

All because of Riley.

Her presence, her laughter, her voice—day by day, they're healing me, stitching me back together. She gives me purpose, and I'm at my happiest when I'm with her. And Jesus Christ, do I want her, but I'm scared as shit that I'll fuck it up. I don't want to fall apart with her.

I don't want to lose her. Just the possibility of hurting her has me keeping my distance.

I shake my head, wishing I could shake the thoughts loose. They're tainting my mind, and I'm already struggling to remember the melody.

My fingers stumble over the same damn keys, and I curse. Why can't I get it right?

“Is that the melody you were humming in the park?” Her voice sends goosebumps scattering along my skin.

She stops beside the piano, her hair in a bun on top of her head, a few blue flyaways framing her face. Her white tee is oversized, and her dark blue shorts make her legs look long and tan. My skin hums in the way it always does when she's around. Heat and desire mix, setting my whole fucking body on fire.

I need to resist it.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Trying to get it down, but…something is off.”

She nods absentmindedly and joins me on the piano bench, her shoulder brushing mine, and suddenly, all my worries feel insignificant.

Thank fuck I'm sitting. Otherwise, my knees would probably give out. My heart is beating so fast, it feels like it's ready to run, with her as its final destination.

I'm screwed.

“Maybe you just need a little help.” She grins.

I smirk because it's easier than admitting that my heart is begging me to make a move. “You? Please. You can't even clap on beat.”

She gasps, her jaw dropping. Then, she slaps my arm. “Rude. I have a very good sense of rhythm, thank you very much.”

I laugh. “Prove it.”

I'm full of shit. She does have a great sense of rhythm, and she also has a beautiful voice, but I love to tease her. And right now, I need a distraction from the inappropriate thoughts pummeling me.

So, I play a ridiculous tune, and she hums along. Before I realize it's happening, I'm playing the melody I've been trying to work out. Her soft voice puts the pieces together for me. I've been struggling for over an hour to figure it out, and all this time, the answer was Riley. She's the key.

I snag my pencil and note sheet, humming the rhythm on repeat. All the while, she watches me. When I've got it all down, I put the note sheet back on the music stand and turn to her.

“Thank you,” I murmur. “You made me lose myself in the moment, in the music, and it worked. I finally got it right.”

“Congratulations.” She gives me a shy smile. “I can't wait to hear it when it's done.”

“Not sure it's right for Sabotage, but who knows?”

She's too close. Her warmth infiltrates my senses, her scent, even her breathing. Riley is an aphrodisiac, and I desperately need to stop myself from giving in.

I clear my throat. “What do you think of Dr. Bell, by the way? Do you like her?”

Her eyebrows pull together, like the change of subject has thrown her off. “She's nice, very professional. She asked me a gazillion questions, gave me some really good advice.” She shrugs. “I asked her if sex was safe, and she said yes.”

My spine snaps straight. “Why?”

“Why did I ask, or why did she say yes?”

“Why did you ask?”

She shrugs. “Just in case.”

Just in case.

The thought of anyone else touching her makes me see red. I swallow past the bile rising in my throat, ignoring how my blood boils in my veins.

Before I can stop myself, I ask, “So your question didn't have anything to do with me?”

“No.” A flush creeps up her neck. It's adorable. “Just…in general.”

Liar. The nervous lilt in her voice and the way she can't look at me tell me I'm right. She asked because of me.

“God.” I huff, head dropped back. “Why do you make everything harder?”

She shifts away a fraction. “What do you mean?”

“You make it so fucking hard to pretend I'm not into you,” I all but growl.

Her lips part. This close, when she looks at me like that, all the promises I made to myself, all the rules I tried to set, go right out the fucking window.

I cup the back of her neck and pull her in. Her breath hitches, and I snap. I kiss her deep and fast, like I'm starving and she's the first meal I've had in days. I slip my tongue inside her mouth, deepening the connection. She melts into me, her fingers in my hair, tugging in a way that brings the most pleasurable pain.

As she arches against me, I slip my lips down her neck. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” I ask against her throat.

“Hayden…”

“Say it.” I snake my hand around her waist and pull her into me.

“I want you,” she breathes.

Her admission unravels me.

I pull her onto my lap, guiding her legs on either side of my hips. She braces herself with a hand on the keys behind her, and the movement makes the piano groan with a dull, off-key thud. The sound hangs in the air as I suck on her neck, but her moan quickly drowns it out.

My mouth is on hers again. Her lips are so soft, I never want to stop kissing her. She glides her hands around my shoulders, down my chest. Everywhere she touches, my skin burns. She rolls her hips, grinding herself over my erection. I'm so fucking hard, I could come on the spot.

“I want to feel you,” I whisper. “I want to feel your greedy little cunt around my dick.”

“You have me…”

With a chuckle, I suck hard on her collarbone, knowing there'll be evidence of it tomorrow. “Fuck, I love marking you.”

She stands, her ass hitting the keys, that off-key sound ringing in the air again. I pull down her shorts and then her panties. Bottom lip trapped between her teeth, she steps out of them. Her gaze is on my lap as I pull my hard cock out of my sweatpants.

A thought flashes through my mind right as lightning arcs across the sky. I've never done it with anyone. Ever. But I desperately want to do it with her.

I place my hands on her ass cheeks, pulling her to me. As we lock eyes, thunder rumbles outside the window, like the city itself is warning me I'm crossing a line I can't uncross.

But I can't stop. Not with her.

“Can I fuck you bare?” I whisper. “I've never done it before.”

“I'm already pregnant, and we both got tested after that first appointment.” She leans in, her breaths mingling with mine. “I want to feel all of you.”

I grip my shaft as she lowers herself onto me. When I'm seated halfway, she grasps my shoulders. “Your ladder…”

“Shh, baby,” I murmur, pressing my fingers to her clit and rubbing. “You know you can take it.”

Nodding, she takes me deeper. Heavy rain hammers the window, but I barely hear it. Her breathing and her moans take up all the space in my brain.

“Oh my God…” She throws her head back on a moan. “I'm so full…”

“Not yet, baby…” Fingers slick from her arousal, I double my efforts. “Take your shirt off.”

Her T-shirt lands on the floor, and then her tits are right there, practically in my face. They're fuller now, and her puckered nipples make my mouth water. I dive in and suck one into my mouth. The moan she lets out is pure sin.

“Just a little more, Ry baby…”

Slowly, she takes me all the way to the hilt, panting as she goes, her hair damp and sticking to her forehead.

Nothing has ever felt as good as she does. “Jesus, you feel perfect…”

She rides me deep and slow, rotating her hips in a way that makes me see stars. Her moans tangle with the thunder, with the heavy rain crashing against the window.

“Fuck,” I groan, burying my face in the hollow of her neck. “You have no idea what you're doing to me. I think about you all the time…”

I cup the back of her neck and pull her face toward mine. Our lips connect, tongues curling around each other. I massage her tits, tugging on her nipples as she picks up her pace. She chases her orgasm, her movements rougher, and given the fire burning in my lower abdomen, I'm not far behind.

Every second carves her into my being, tattoos her deep under my skin.

“Your dick and your ladder… You feel so good.” She digs her nails into my shoulders and drags them down my back, scratching me. It's fucking everything.

“Ride me, baby,” I whisper between groans. “You're fucking me so well…”

Head thrown back, she fucks me hard, making my vision blur. Clutching her ass, I help her move. She clings to me, her body slick with sweat, her forehead on mine, her hot breath fanning my face.

“I'm gonna come…” she screams, her hips moving frantically, and the move triggers my own release.

She clenches around me, and my vision goes black. I come hard, spilling myself inside her. Arms wrapped around her waist, I hold her close as she rides out her orgasm.

Hands down, that was the best sex I've ever had. If I made a list of the hottest moments of my life, she'd be at the very top. No one has ever fucked me the way she did—and I've never fucked anyone like I fucked her.

This is insanity.

Even after we're dressed, we find ourselves tangled together, this time on the couch, a far more comfortable spot than the bench. As we catch our breaths, arms wrapped around each other, the storm continues to rage outside like a curious witness. She's soft and warm. It feels like letting her go would split me open. Her eyes glimmer in the dim light of the room, her lips swollen from all the kisses.

I can't look away.

She's the most stunning woman in the world…and she wants me. All of me. Not even my broken, ugly parts scare her. And it feels right to be with her, like we belong together.

Her lips part as if she's going to speak.

Panic flares inside me. I won't be able to say no to her, and I won't be able to lie to her either.

So, before she can ask any questions, before she can make any kind of declaration, I say, “I like you, Ry. Hell, that's not even close. You get under my skin in ways I didn't think I was capable of feeling again.” I drag a hand over my face, eyes on the window. “But I'm not okay. You know that.

You've seen more of it than anyone else. And what scares me isn't the relationship—it's me. I couldn't save my best friend. I didn't even see how bad he was until it was too late; that guilt sits in my chest and it doesn't want to go away. I don't trust myself not to…miss something again, to not hurt the people who depend on me.”

I swallow around the bile clogging my throat, my chest constricting.

“You're carrying our baby. And the idea of pulling you into the storm that I am? It's terrifying. Because if I screw this up…if I screw you up, I'll never get back from that. I'm not saying 'no' because I don't want you. I do, God, I do. I'm saying it because I'm afraid me wanting you will destroy everything good in your life.”

Her face falls. “What are we supposed to do then? Pretend this didn't mean anything? That it was just another last last time?”

My throat closes. “It means…so much.” I try to catch her eyes, but she won't look at me. “The thought of ruining what we have is unbearable. I can't lose you.”

She chews on her cheek, her attention on the wall ahead. Then, she takes a deep breath and slowly untangles herself from me. “I think I'll go to bed.” She stands and heads out of the room, throwing a dull-sounding “night” over her shoulder.

The rain continues pounding against the windows as I sit on the couch, my head in my hands.

Fuck. Why does it feel like I already ruined us?

35

i'm choosing myself

Riley

With a mug of tea between my hands, I sit at the breakfast bar, staring out the window. How I made it to my room without falling apart last night is beyond me. When he gave me his I can't lose you bullshit, I was genuinely surprised my heart still had the capacity to beat.

Last night replays in my head like a movie: the way he touched me like he couldn't stop, the way he kissed me like he was drowning and I was his life raft. Then, in a matter of moments, with a few simple words, he shattered my heart. I like you, but…

Doesn't he know in a phrase like that, everything before “but” becomes insignificant?

At least he let me get dressed before he delivered his blow. If he had given me that speech while he was still inside me, I would've lost it.

Maybe I did. Because when he said those words, quiet and careful, like they were meant to protect me...they pierced my heart, went right through me instead. Maybe what he did wasn't cowardice in the way the world defines it, but hearing him talk himself out of something we'd barely had a chance to touch…tasted like fear. Fear feels like rejection. And rejection always feels like cowardice.

“Morning.” His voice snaps me back to the moment. He's standing in the doorway in a pair of gray sweatpants, his hair a mess like it always is first thing. He throws a crooked smile at me. “How did you sleep?”

I nearly double over at how easy his greeting is. Wow. Apparently, I'm the only one suffering an existential crisis. “Okay.”

Brows lowered, he takes a step closer. “You don't feel well?”

“I'm okay.” Annoyance brews inside me, ready to spill out at any moment.

He shuffles to the coffeepot, only to freeze when he realizes it's empty. For weeks, we've had a routine. Whoever wakes up first makes coffee for both of us. But after he made a fool out of me last night, I didn't feel like making any for him. I wanted tea.

“Is 'okay' suddenly the only word in your vocabulary?” he asks as he fills the pot with water.

I've known him my whole life. I get what he's trying to do, but lightening up the atmosphere won't work. Not after last night.

“No, but I don't feel like pretending everything is rainbows and unicorns just to keep you from feeling uncomfortable.” I shrug.

He whips around, frowning. “Riley, I didn't mean⁠—”

A snort slips out. “That's a very accurate observation, Hayden. You never mean anything.”

Fuck. I told myself I wouldn't show him how much he hurt me, yet here I am, being dramatic.

My phone buzzes on the counter, cutting the moment short. A picture of Story appears on my screen, snapping me out of my anger. Without looking at Hayden, I grab my device and press it to my ear. “Hey.”

“Good morning,” she singsongs. She's way too cheerful for my shitty mood. “How are you?”

The sound of her voice has a comforting warmth spreading through my extremities. “I'm okay. You're up early.”

Hayden leans against the cabinet, legs crossed at the ankles, looking too damn good for my liking.

“I was too excited to sleep,” she blurts. “I've been dying to talk to you, and I couldn't wait any longer.”

Elbow on the bar, I prop my cheek against my knuckles. “Did something happen?”

“Yes! You and Uncle Hayden! You're his baby mama.”

Cold sweat forms on my forehead, and my heart thunks heavily. “How…how did you know?”

Story laughs wholeheartedly, clueless about the state she's put me in. “Piper said whoever it is, it's none of our business, but I was too curious to let it go. So, I did some Googling. And yesterday, I finally found what I was looking for!” she squeals. “Photos of him bartending at a place called Alchemy. There were so many pictures of him from that night, and I almost gave up, but eventually, I found the ones that solved the mystery.” She takes a deep, dramatic breath. “You were sitting at the bar, smiling. In another one, Uncle Hayden was with you, his hand on your waist. And in the last one, you were leaving the bar together, holding hands.”

“Story—”

“I'm so happy for you,” she babbles. “And for Uncle Hayden. You're perfect together, and I promise to be the best cousin in the world.”

While she rambles on about how she remembered I didn't feel well when I was in Santa Clara and connected the dots, I sit, frozen, my mind a mess. The photos could be easily explained, but my initial reaction basically gave me away.

“Don't worry, I won't say anything to Dad or Piper. Or even my grannies. That's not my place,” she says. “I just wanted to call and say I'm happy for you.”

Hayden appears on the other side of the bar, a frown etched onto his face, his jaw set tight. He's listening in.

“Uh-huh…”

“Riley, are you angry with me?” she whispers. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think⁠—”

“No, no, no, Story. It's okay.” I lick my lips. “We weren't going to hide it forever.”

We end the call quickly, and as I set my phone down, my stomach twists into knots.

“So…Story knows?” he asks.

I nod.

“And she figured it out by looking at pictures online.”

“It was a baseless guess, but I all but confirmed it when I asked how she knew instead of telling her she was wrong.” I sigh, shaking my head. “Looks like it's time to face the music. What do you think?”

“I'm in.” He gives me a small smile.

Without returning the expression, I grab my mug and pad into the living room. Once he joins me on the couch, his own mug in hand, I FaceTime Piper.

“Hey, hey. I thought you'd be sleeping in. Better enjoy those lazy mornings now. It won't be long before classes start up again, right?” she asks. At first, all I see is the ceiling.

The phone jostles, and then she appears, smiling, her kitchen cupboards behind her. Her grin quickly drops when she notices Hayden beside me. “Hi, Hade.”

“Morning.” He lifts his mug in greeting. “Any chance Hunter can join you?”

Piper bites her bottom lip, her gaze dancing between us. She nods and disappears.

I lean back, letting out a groan. “It's only eleven o'clock.” Then, I notice how close we're sitting. Annoyed, I shift away. “You could've put a shirt on.”

“Why?”

My annoyance transforms into real irritation. “Because you look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“You're in your P.J's.” He flashes me an infuriating smirk.

I huff. “At least I'm decent.”

He chuckles, but it's dry, like my frustration is getting to him. “Decent is overrated.”

“Says the guy who pushes people away when things get too real.”

His face falls, but before he can respond, Piper and Hunter appear on the screen.

Hunter arches a brow, looking from Hayden to me and back again. “What's up?”

“We have something to tell you.” I count to five and blow out a breath. “I'm pregnant, and the baby is Hayden's.”

He tenses beside me, but I don't look at him. Piper's reaction is so much more important to me.

Her full lips part, and her eyes go round as she stares at me.

Hunter clears his throat. “When did you find out?”

“A couple of days before I left your place, but…I wanted Hayden to know first.”

“Understandable.” Hunter nods, calm and collected. “Congratulations, you two.”

“Sorry I wasn't up-front about it after the news leaked,” Hayden chimes in. “We needed a little time to figure things out. We were⁠—”

“I'm sorry,” Piper cuts him off. “You got my sister pregnant, and you didn't have the balls to tell me? You are my fucking best friend, Hade. You know how much she means to me.”

Hayden bristles. “Pip, Riley and I⁠—”

She lifts her hand to shut him up then presses it to her cheek, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

I know this reaction all too well. She's pissed, but she's also terrified…for me. She meets my eye, the look full of words unspoken. It lands hard, and I almost hear her voice in my head: I knew he'd end up hurting you.

A sense of clarity washes over me. I don't want to stay here anymore. I'm tired of being his almost. I'm tired of being his distraction, his never enough to take the risk.

She shakes her head. “What does this mean? Are you together?”

He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.

“No. We're just friends.” I hold my head high, ignoring the slicing pain in my heart. It's true, and it's time to accept that. “We'll be co-parents. Not a big deal.”

Hayden looks at me, his scrutiny like a brand, but I keep my focus on the screen. He has no right to argue, and thankfully, he knows it. Last night was our breaking point.

“Are you living together?” Piper asks.

No matter how tempting it is to say I'm moving out, I keep that to myself for now.

“Yeah.” Hayden clears his throat and scoots forward a fraction. “After the news leaked, I asked Ry to move in with me. This way, I can keep her safe, take care of her.”

Hunter snickers. “I'm afraid we need to discuss what it means to take care of someone. Despite what you may think, it does not include knocking them up.”

“Shut up. And lose the smug look.” Hayden crosses his arms, glowering at his brother.

“After the shit you gave us when Piper and I got together, you deserve a little clapback.”

Hayden is still annoyed, glaring at the phone screen, but I feel better. Hunter's humor has relieved some of the pressure in my chest. With the way Piper keeps studying me, I know she'll hound me later, when it's only the two of us. I'm fine with it. I'm tired of hiding things from my sister.

I end the call and send a quick text to Nastya, asking her to meet me at our favorite pastry shop. Before I even stand from the couch, she responds, telling me she'll be there in thirty.

“Can we talk?” Hayden asks. His voice is quiet, almost uncertain.

“Sorry.” I take a deep breath, centering myself. “I'm meeting Nastya in a half hour.”

He braces his elbows on his knees, his jaw tight.

“Bo, Jimmy and I are recording a podcast today, but I'll be free later. Want to order in and watch a movie?”

I lift my chin. “No. I'll be busy.”

“Busy?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“I'm going back to my place. It's time.”

When he jumps to his feet, his knee bangs the coffee table, spilling coffee all over it.

Rather than give in to the urge to help him clean, I stand and back away. “I'll ask Nastya to help me pack. You don't need to worry about anything.”

With that, I head to the guest room to get ready, but his bare feet thunder across the floor behind me.

“Riley, wait.” He grabs my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. “Can we please talk?”

“About what?” I turn to him, shaking free of his hold.

“About us…about the baby.”

I take a deep breath. “There's no us. We're just friends. We're going to co-parent, like we agreed. I'm not shutting you out. You're always welcome at my appointments, and you'll always have a place in our baby's life. I'd never take that away from you.”

Emerald eyes glassy, he opens his mouth then closes it again, as if he's at a loss for words.

With a shake of my head, I grab the doorknob. “You said you were worried you'd ruin everything. Well, congratulations. You did it without even giving us a shot.”

Before he can respond, I slip inside my room and close the door in his face. With my heart galloping and my hands clammy, I lean back against the door. For so many years, I've pined for him, loving him from afar, hoping for something. That only magnified after we first slept together, then again when I found out I was pregnant.

But not anymore.

I'm done with the crumbs of affection he tosses me, with the way he pulls me in, only to push me away again. I'm tired of waiting while he stands on the sidelines, debating whether I'm worth it.

It's on him to figure out how to be part of our baby's life.

I'm choosing myself, just like I chose myself over ballet.

Because even my love for him is not a good enough reason to destroy myself.

36

ready to see your baby?

Hayden

The penthouse is so quiet, but the silence is louder than any door slam. Without her, this place is hollow, lifeless. I glance at the bouquet on the kitchen counter.

Forget-me-nots. They're wilting, stems bending, petals shriveling. Just like us. I should throw them away, but that feels like erasing the last piece of her.

When I got home after recording the podcast with the guys, Riley was still here, but she wasn't alone. Nastya was helping her pack, the two of them blasting Taylor Swift. The only greeting I got from Nastya was the stink eye. I guarantee she would've stabbed me if she thought she could get away with it. I think I would've let her.

I deserve it.

I ruined everything.

I'm a coward, just like Riley said.

With a deep breath, I force myself off the stool I sank onto when Riley left two hours ago. She wouldn't even let me call Wyatt to drive her. She wanted nothing to do with me, and it hurt like a bitch. I don't have anyone to blame except myself.

I slump onto the couch, dig my phone from my pocket, and call Piper. I saved her for last because I knew it would be the hardest call to make. The talks with my parents and Hunter went well. They didn't sing my praises, but at least they know, and they know I fucked up too. Now, it's time to finally be one hundred percent honest with my best friend…if she'll even talk to me.

She was like a mom to Riley when they were growing up. She's only five years older, but with how busy their mom was, Pip was often the one to look after her little sister. That meant I spent a lot of time with her too. Piper trusted me with Riley, and I hurt her.

“Wasn't sure you'd have the guts to call me,” Piper says when she finally picks up. Her expression is drawn, sad. Based on the view behind her, she's in her backyard.

“I wasn't sure either.”

“You're my best friend.” She sighs. “There were days when you were the sole reason I kept going. You're my family, and I love you.” Looking away, she presses her wobbling lips together. “But you hurt Riley… You hurt my little sister.” There are tears streaming down her face. “I don't even know how to look at you right now.”

I swallow the bile working its way up my esophagus, and a bitter taste fills my mouth. “I don't know how to look at myself right now either.” I grind the heel of my hand into my eye. “All I see is her, in every fucking corner of this place. I hear her voice in every room. Without her, my penthouse is empty, dark and fucking gloomy.”

“I talked to her,” she mutters. “She told me about how the two of you ended up in this situation. She said there are things you don't talk to me about. About Owen and his death. She refused to give me details, because no matter what you did, she didn't want to betray your trust.” She sniffles. “So, for the love of God, fucking talk to me, Hade.”

A little flicker of hope settles in my stomach. No matter what happened, Riley chose to keep my secrets. She's too good for me.

Chest aching, I slide onto the floor, my back against the couch, and start talking. Though it terrifies me to do it, I tell Piper everything.

By the time night falls, the silence is unbearable. My home even smells like Riley. Every shadow whispers her name. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Sleep doesn't come.

At two, I get dressed, grab my keys, and drive. Not aimlessly this time—I know exactly who I want to talk to.

The cemetery is quiet. Peaceful, really. But the closer I get, the tighter my chest feels. It's hard to breathe, and I'm covered in a cold sweat by the time I stop in front of Owen's headstone.

My best friend.

He would've understood me. He would've known what to say. He would've told me what to do.

I sink to my knees in the grass. “Hey, man. It's been a while. I'm sorry for not visiting you more often…” I lower my head and breathe through the pain in my chest. “I find myself talking to you, wishing you were still with me. And with the album coming out, I miss you more than ever. I wish you were here to experience it with us. We already released 'Power Is You,' and the fans love it. They're all talking about your voice and your guitar,” I mutter, voice cracking. “I miss you. I miss being with you in the studio, jamming together, playing the piano while you sing a lullaby you wrote for Santi.

“Your boy is wonderful, and the way he loves Ines is something else. I'm sure you're proud of him.” Eyes closed, I take a deep, shaky breath. “He's a smart kid, and I love spending time with him. He reminds me of you, so much. I visit them when I can, and I hope you know that I will always be there for your family…because they are my family too.”

I press my hand to his stone. “I'm going to be a dad too. I heard my baby's heartbeat, and the emotions that hit me? I swear, I've never experienced anything like it. It's like having the most beautiful melody stuck in my head. I already love that kid. A boy or a girl…who cares. I will love them forever.”

I double over, a sob bursting out of me. “I fucked up, man. I lost Riley, and it's my own damn fault. Fuck, it hurts. Nothing has ever hurt like this before… It's like my heart was ripped out of my chest.” I suck in a breath, not bothering to wipe the tears off my face. “I couldn't stay away from her.

I craved her like a drowning person craves air. Like I can't live without her. She is the first girl I've ever loved, and I fucking pushed her away, never told her how I really feel.

I was scared I'd make a mistake and lose her. I didn't want to risk it, so I acted like a coward and lost her anyway.

“I want to be with her. I want to make it work. And not because of the baby. She's it for me.” I press my head to his stone. “What should I do, man?”

Thunder rolls quietly, the sound going right through me. Then, the first drops fall. I look up, the rain splashing on my cheek, then my forehead. Within minutes, it's pouring, soaking my clothes, plastering my hair to my forehead. The raindrops are heavy, cold, and kind of merciless, but I smile. All I can think about is Riley and how much she loves rain.

I stand, tip my head back, and hold my arms out. I swear, I hear Owen's voice in the pounding of the rain.

“Is this your way of telling me to stop being a coward?” I whisper. “To fight for her?”

A lightning bolt crosses the sky in answer. I know it's Owen telling me to fight for her, to fight for my future.

And when I finally leave, I'm filled with determination. My clothes stick to me, but I don't feel cold. My heart burns in my chest. Burns for her. There's no fucking way I'm giving up.

It took me two days to convince Riley to meet me for lunch. She was against the idea at first, refusing to come back to the penthouse and too worried about the paparazzi to meet in public. So, I asked T.J for a favor, and he gladly organized a private lunch for us at Alchemy.

At first, all we do is just eat and make small talk. She tells me about her days, and I tell her about mine. It feels safe, easy, but that's not why I wanted her to come.

“I'm sorry, Riley.” My voice is steady, even though my heart is trying to find its way out of my chest. “I'm sorry for failing you. I'm sorry for making you feel like I didn't want you, like I wasn't ready to risk everything for you and our baby.”

She watches me closely, eyes narrowed.

“I want you to know something,” I continue. “I've already decided to start counseling. I want to get better. I want to heal. I want to fix myself. For you, for our baby…and because I don't want to keep living like this.”

Her shoulders relax just a fraction. “Counseling sounds like a good idea. I wanted⁠—”

“Ry baby, I would've been a complete asshole if I let you do that.” I reach across the table, covering her palm with mine. “It never should've felt like it was your job to fix me. That's not fair. It's not right.”

Her fingers tense under mine, and my heart misses a beat.

“What is right,” I say quietly, “is you being my motivation. My reason to want more than just surviving. But the work?” I press my hand to my chest. “That's on me.”

She exhales, looking away for a second. “I've heard beautiful words before from you,” she says softly. “I need to see you choose this when it gets hard.”

“You will,” I answer without hesitation. “I already have my first session on Monday. And this time, I'm not running.”

She presses her lips together as she assesses me with an intensity that pushes me to talk more, to remind her I'll do anything for her.

“Please remember,” I add, “no matter what you need, I'm one call away.”

She studies me for a long moment. Then, she gives a small smile. “Actions speak louder than words, Hade.”

“Then let me prove it,” I say. “Let me prove I mean what I say. I'll do it every single day.”

This time, her smile grows wider, just like her eyes are softening. Later, when we leave the restaurant, I feel more hopeful than I've been in days. Now, I know nothing is lost.

One month later

My whirlwind of a life has only gotten busier since the album release. I did start counseling because I wanted to get better—not only for myself, but for Riley and our baby. I knew I couldn't do it on my own. So far, so good. Talking through my grief and my fear of commitment with Dr. Martin has made a big difference.

Therapy also eases some of the tension I've been under with the label pushing us to get back on the road. I know I can't. I'm not ready. This was supposed to be a hiatus, but my days are consumed with promoting the new album.

I give it my all because this album is a tribute to Owen, and I want it to succeed, but there's no fucking way I'll go on tour and leave Riley alone. They can all go fuck themselves if they think I'd do that.

At the sound of her voice on the other end of the line, my heart settles a little.

“Hi, Ry. How are you?”

“Hi.” She chuckles. “I'm good. Just like I was when you called four hours ago.”

“Hm, you think I should call more often?” I slip out of the studio and head to the elevator. “Because I can.”

She sighs. “You're giving stage-five clinger, and not in a good way.”

Laughter erupts from deep in my chest as I hit the button for the underground garage.

“It's not funny, Hade.”

“Sorry, sorry.” I fight a grin. “Never thought being caring would make me a stage-five clinger. Unfortunately for you, that doesn't offend me. I'll wear it like a badge.”

“Unbelievable.” In the background, little voices sing, “Goodbye, Miss Riley!”

“Are you done for the day?”

“Yeah. I need a shower before the appointment. I've got glitter everywhere, including places it has no business being.”

Warmth spreads through my veins. “I'm intrigued, Ry baby.”

She huffs, but it's good-natured. “Go to hell.”

“Nah, I'm going to your place. I'll be there in about forty minutes.”

“Wait downstairs.”

“Are you hiding something from me?” Frowning, I step out of the elevator. “Or someone?”

“See you, Hayden.” With that, the line goes dead.

I climb into the back seat and settle beside a bouquet of forget-me-nots and pearly white roses. “Thank you for picking these up,” I say to Wyatt.

“Anytime, sir.” He nods then focuses on the road.

I trace my fingers over the petals, reveling in the soft, velvety sensation. I bring Riley flowers every time I see her, and her reactions are what keep me going. I've been saving this particular combo for a special occasion, and today is it. We're headed to her eighteen-week ultrasound.

Maybe she's right. Maybe I am a stage-five clinger, but I don't know how else to show her I'm not going anywhere. All because I've been focusing on actions ever since she told me “actions speak louder than words.”

I call her several times a day. We text all the time. She still won't come to my place, but I'm happy to go to hers. It's better, really, since I'm having renovations done and don't want her to see them yet. We go for walks.

I help her with grocery shopping. If I can, I pick her up from the studio.

Despite how careful we are, we've been photographed together a few times. Luckily, Glenn is on it, making sure the images don't show Riley's face. For now, she's relatively at ease with how the media is covering our situation. She's much less fidgety than she used to be when we're in public.

Though we haven't touched, other than a hand on her back to guide her or her fingers in mine as I help her out of the car, the vibes are still there, and once in a while, I even find her flirting back.

I count every instance as a little win.

Because I'm not going anywhere this time.

Nope.

She's mine, and I'll make sure I'm worthy of her.

Bouquet in hand, I adjust my hood, making sure it hides my face, and knock on her door.

When she opens it, my breath catches. She's always beautiful, but I swear, she looks better every day. She has half her hair pulled up in a little bun on top of her head, the rest cascading over her shoulders. Her makeup makes her blue eyes pop, so the eye roll she gives me is honestly epic.

“I should've known you wouldn't listen,” she mutters, stepping aside.

When she angles to the side, my breathing stalls out completely. She's in a pair of jeans and a white tee that's ridden up a little, giving me a glimpse of her bump. It's small but already so evident.

She's carrying my baby. Our baby.

“Hayden?”

I blink out of my stupor and act casual, swaggering into her apartment. “These are for you.” I hold out the bouquet. “I hope you like them.”

She breaks into a broad smile as she takes the flowers. “It's like you peeked inside my head and found exactly what I'd want.” Cheeks pink, she meets my eyes. “Thank you so much. They are perfect.”

“Just like you,” I say. I can't help myself.

Head thrown back, she laughs. “Okay, that line was too much.” She heads for the kitchen, peering at me over her shoulder. “Wait here, please. I'll put them in water, and then we can go.”

“Sure.” I prop my shoulder against the wall.

When she returns, her eyes glimmer with happiness. “I'm ready.”

“Then let's go.”

Riley goes into the exam room alone. Wanting to respect any need for privacy she might have, I never insist on joining her. I'm just here to support.

But that doesn't stop me from blowing out a relieved breath when a nurse calls me back.

The room is dim, the monitor humming already, Riley reclined on the exam table.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hale,” Dr. Bell greets me. “Come on in.”

I nod, though it's a challenge. My neck is stiff, like all my muscles have locked up. As I move closer, Riley lifts her tee, putting her bump on display.

My heart thuds in my ears. How is it possible this tiny swell already feels bigger than the entire world?

“Ready to see your baby?” Dr. Bell asks.

“Absolutely,” Riley murmurs.

I'm too nervous to utter a word.

Dr. Bell squirts clear gel onto Riley's stomach then picks up a wand attached to the sonogram machine. Between one breath and the next, the steady, strong thump-thump-thump of our baby's heartbeat echoes around us. It's like Bo on the drum kit, creating a rhythmic pattern. I don't realize I'm gripping the armrest until my knuckles ache.

Dr. Bell tilts the wand. “Your baby looks perfectly healthy.” She points at the grainy image on the screen. “Strong heartbeat. And…” She pauses, glancing at us. “Would you like to know the sex?”

When Riley looks up at me and nods, a bolt of excitement courses through me. I smile at her then fix my focus on Dr. Bell. “Yes.”

“In that case, congratulations! It's a girl.”

The world falls away for a moment. A girl. Our girl. Our daughter.

I study the blurry outline on the screen, the curve of her head, her tiny spine. Warmth courses through my veins, setting my skin on fire. My eyes burn with tears. I've played sold-out arenas, and I've stood in front of tens of thousands of screaming fans, but nothing feels as overwhelming, as incredible, as this moment.

It's a miracle. It's the best gift this life could've given me. All the awards, all the fans, all the money are great, sure, but I've never been happier than I am now. It's like my whole world went quiet and then erupted into a million different sounds, making a beautiful, perfect song about my daughter.

I clasp Riley's hand, and instead of pulling away, she squeezes gently, her gaze still glued to the screen.

“She's beautiful,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else, as Dr. Bell continues to explain what she sees on her screen and gives the measurements to the nurse.

“And she's ours,” Riley whispers.

An overwhelming flood of emotion fills my heart to the brim. I hover close to Riley and press a kiss to her forehead. “Our little girl.”

My chest expands, full of joy, full of love. I've known it for a long time, but this visit only reinforces it. For Riley and our daughter, I would do anything. I would burn the world if it kept them safe. I would build a castle with walls so high, no one could ever reach them.

As I press another kiss to Riley's forehead, it hits me that the only fear I still harbor is the fear of losing my chance with her. There's no fucking way I can let that happen.

It's time for me to finish that song—her song.

37

can i kiss you?

Hayden

Riley is glowing.

And I'm still overwhelmed with the happiness and love that enveloped me during the ultrasound.

I'm going to be a girl dad.

“You're strangely quiet for someone who couldn't shut up an hour ago.” Riley nudges me, one hand resting on her belly. “What's on your mind?”

I rake my fingers through my hair and shift in my seat to face her. “Our daughter.”

“I know.” She tilts her head to the side, her hair falling over her shoulder and seat belt. “Are you happy it's a girl? Or did you want a boy?”

“I'm over the moon, and I would be feeling the same if it were a boy.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her skin. “I'm just thrilled you're having my baby.”

Silence settles between us, but it's warm, comforting. Her smile lights up the space, making my world more vivid. But despite how comfortable it is, I need to hear her voice.

“How's work?” I ask.

Silvery laughter springs from her mouth. “Work is great. The kids are having fun helping me pick the dances we're going to learn this year.” She grins at me.

“Have you told Adelaide you're pregnant?”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “She wasn't thrilled, but she knows how much my students love me, and she doesn't want to lose me, so it's all good.”

Relief washes over me. She wouldn't have to work another day in her life if she didn't want to. I can more than provide for her and our daughter. But she loves her job.

“Nastya says I got lucky.” She laughs softly. “Adelaide became a grandmother recently, and it's made her softer.”

“How is Nastya? Does she still hate me?”

She arches a brow, leaning in. “I wouldn't say she hates you. She sees everything you're doing for me, but she's still skeptical.”

I scratch at my jawline. “Any suggestions for what I can do to win her over?”

Riley peers out the window then turns to me. “Keep treating me like a princess. That might do the trick.”

Fuck. It's impossible not to be turned on when she says things like that. I want her all over again.

The car stops, but rather than climb out to put space between us like she usually does, she holds my gaze, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. I shift closer, though I don't touch her. I want to do this the right way, even if being a gentleman who wants to get his girl back in a respectful way is a pain in the ass sometimes.

“I talked to Ines,” she says casually. “I want to do a pregnancy photoshoot in another month or two.” She ducks, worrying her lip again. “Do you think you'd want to do it with me? Maybe one or two of you⁠—”

“Yes. A photo or two, or a dozen. Anything you want.”

“Great. Thank you.” She leans in and kisses my cheek. “Night, Hade.”

A thrill of excitement zips down my spine. “Night.”

She says goodbye to Wyatt then climbs out. We wait, watching her enter her building, and when she texts to say she's in her apartment, I give Wyatt a nod.

Love

:

I'm home. Thank you for today.

Me:

Sleep tight. And thank you for inviting me. It means everything.

Today has been magical. Listening to our baby's heartbeat and watching her on the screen tore me apart and stitched me back together all at once. It made me stronger and even more determined to win Riley back.

Riley Evans will be mine.

“Wyatt?”

He eyes me in the mirror, one brow cocked. “Sir?”

“Take me to the studio, please. I have a song to finish.”

The melody that came to me the day I first heard my baby's heartbeat returns as I put my fingers on the piano keys. It takes a minute to get it right, the sound almost foreign after spending weeks focused on Sabotage. This song isn't for the band. This one is different. Personal. It's Riley's song.

I'll let her decide what to do with it.

I sing, double-checking the lyrics I wrote every now and then, tweaking them and adding the last chorus.

This song is about my darkness and her light, about two people tangled so tightly in each other's lives, their love felt almost forbidden. Almost wrong. It's about the shadows that helped them see how right it really was.

It's about the way love can drag a person under and save them all at once. Hades and Persephone, only this time, Hades is begging her to stay, never chaining her.

The words come easier than they have since before Owen's death. I smile as I play despite how raw the lyrics are, how much truth they hold. It's liberating, putting my love into song.

I still have a few arrangements to make, but by the end of the week, Riley will know how I feel about her.

With a bouquet of irises and forget-me-nots in my hand—a perfect shade of blue that reminds me of her eyes—I lean against my car, waiting for Riley. She knows I'm coming, but she has no idea about the detour I've planned. Fingers crossed she'll agree to go with me.

The doors of the studio open, and booming laughter floats through the air. Nastya walks out first, then Riley. Fuck, she's a vision. She's wearing a white dress with a little cut-out on her waist and white sneakers, her hair cascading over her shoulders in long waves.

My girl literally takes my breath away.

“Hey.” She plants a kiss on my cheek and rears back, eyes on the bouquet. “Another one? It's only been three days since the last time you brought flowers.”

“If I wasn't being forced to do so much promo, I'd hand-deliver flowers every day,” I tell her as she takes the bouquet. Then, I turn to Nastya. “Hi. It's nice to see you.”

There's a subtle narrowness in her eyes as she studies me. Riley isn't joking when she says her friend's face has subtitles. I respect the way she's assessing me, really. She does it because she cares for Riley, and I can't fault her for that.

“Hi,” Nastya finally says. “Likewise. It's good to see you finally pulled your head out of your ass.”

“Nastya!” Riley slaps her friend's shoulder. “You promised to be nice.”

“I am! That was a compliment.” Her lips quirk into a smile. “Right, Hayden?”

I snort, nodding. “Right.”

She kisses Riley's cheek and whispers something in her ear. Then, she sashays to a car a few spots down.

I open the passenger door and step aside. “Ready to go?”

“God, yes.” She sighs. “Today was stressful. All I want is to bury myself under the covers and sleep.” She climbs in and fastens her seat belt.

A thread of concern works its way through me. “Did something happen?”

“It's silly.”

I lean over her and cup her cheek, making her look at me. “Tell me. Please.”

“One of my students, a new girl…” She bites her bottom lip. “She was struggling with pliés, and she ended up crying. I'm so emotional lately, I cried too. That triggered some other girls to break into tears as well. It was one big crying mess instead of a class. It took Nastya and a ton of glitter to calm us all down.”

No matter how hard I fight it, a smile overtakes me.

She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch. “Don't make fun of me.”

“I'm not. You're too cute.” I kiss her temple and move away so I can close the door.

Once I'm inside the car, my nerves get the best of me, making my stomach twist. Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, I take a deep breath, grounding myself. “I have a little surprise for you.”

“Aren't flowers enough?” she teases, hugging them to her chest.

“Never enough.” I wink at her. “Is it okay if I take you somewhere? It's not far.”

“By 'somewhere,' do you mean your penthouse?”

“I'm a creative creature, Ry baby. Do you really think I'm that boring?”

She lifts her shoulder. “Dunno. You are much older than me. Anything is possible.”

“The hits keep coming. Can't a man catch a break?” I tease as I start the engine. “So, do I have your permission?”

“How can I say no to a man who brings me such beautiful flowers?”

As I pull out of the parking lot, some of my nervousness subsides. “They remind me of your eyes. So vividly blue.”

“Blue is my favorite color.” She twirls a lock of her blue hair around her finger.

“Mine too. All because of a girl with eyes the color of twilight and blue strands in her golden blonde hair.”

“Kiss-ass,” she murmurs, her cheeks turning pink.

“Just being honest,” I state as I focus on the road.

As we step into the small theater, an older man greets us. Glenn hired him to man the door tonight. My manager helped me arrange the surprise, promising no one else would be here.

With Riley's hand in mine, I lead her into the auditorium. Hundreds of empty seats stretch in front of us, and a single spotlight shines on the piano at center stage. I've done lots of shows and performed in front of thousands of people, but I've never been quite as nervous as I am now.

Her footsteps echo as she follows me down the aisle. Her warm hand in mine helps me recenter myself.

When we reach the front row, I turn to her. “Remember that melody I tried to figure out after…” I choke on my words, my heart racing. That day is filled with memories, some incredible, others not. That's the day I pushed her away. It's the day before she left.

She squeezes my hand. “I do. What about it?”

“I finished it, and I want you to be the first to hear it.”

She looks around the empty hall. “And you booked the whole theater so you could play it for me?”

“I would've booked the Richard Rodgers Theatre on Broadway if I could organize it quick enough.”

“You're such a show-off.” She shakes her head as she settles into a seat. “But I'd love to hear the song anyway.”

I flash her a smile and dash up the stairs onto the stage. Fingers hovering over the keys, my heart once again pounding, I fix my attention on her. “This one isn't for Sabotage. It's your song. About you, about us. You get to decide what happens to it, whether I shove it in a drawer or sell it…anything. It's up to you.”

She nods, worrying her lip, her eyes shining. So, I play.

The melody spills out, low and haunting, building with each verse. The theater's acoustics amplify the music, my voice. The lyrics tell our story, a confession in every note.

Shadows and sorrows were my only friends,

Companions I never expected to have.

Kept love at a distance, too scared to claim,

Like Hades, I wanted to stay in the dark.

A girl with eyes so blue, even the twilight sky envious,

Slipped through the cracks, found me in the dark,

And I was no longer lost.

I am the dark, but she is the flame

That pulls me from shadows and stitches my scars.

I wanted to keep her, to make her stay,

But I ended up ruining it all.

I stand on my knees, the chains in my hands,

My heart has a brand of her name burned into it.

It's always been her, it's always been us,

And I was a fool not to say it aloud.

Forget-me-not in her hair, she watches me from afar.

I beg her to stay, like Hades, I'm afraid she'll run.

And she only smiles, taking my hand and threading her fingers through mine.

My Persephone stayed, and I found the sun,

And we are finally free.

When I finish, silence lingers. I wipe my sweaty palms on my knees and stand.

Riley sits, spine straight, wide-eyed, her hand pressed to her belly.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I descend the stairs. Once I'm in front of her, I crouch and place my hands on her knees. “I love you, Riley. I've never experienced anything like this, and it's still surreal, but it's true.” My voice cracks, so I take a few deep breaths to collect myself. “I'm scared I don't have a fucking clue how to be what you need. But I love you, and I'm terrified I'll never get a chance to be with you.”

She places her hand on mine, eyes welling with tears.

“And not just because of our baby. I love her already, more than I can even say. But you—” I drink her in. She's so exceptionally beautiful, so soft, so mine. “I want you for you.

I want to build a family with you. A home. I don't want to just be in your life. I don't want to just exist beside you. I need you.”

Her breath hitches, her lips trembling.

Slowly, I stand and hold out my hand. When she takes it, I help her to her feet and cup the back of her head, tilting her face up to mine. My heart hammers against my rib cage, my pulse pounding in my fingertips.

“Can I kiss you?” I murmur, barely above a whisper.

She nods.

Feeling more alive than I ever have, I finally close the distance.

38

seven minutes

Hayden

I kiss her slowly and gently, tasting her tears as I thread my fingers through her hair.

She clutches my shirt, pulling me closer. The caramel scent I can't get enough of slides under my skin, intoxicating me.

“Jesus. Kissing you is even better than I remember.” I kiss a path down her neck. “If only you knew how obsessed I am.”

“I can guess,” she whispers, arching into me. “The clinginess was a dead giveaway.”

I gently tug on her hair, tipping her head back. “Obsessed isn't the same as clingy. I'm obsessed with everything about you. With how you walk, how you talk, how you laugh—too loud sometimes, but you don't care.”

She swats my chest, giggling.

“But most of all,” I say, sobering, “I'm obsessed with how strong you are. With how you love, fierce and unapologetic.” I duck my head and catch her eye. “It took me a while to get to where you are, but don't mistake that to mean I love you less. Because the way I love you is written in the fucking stars. It's destiny, and whether you like it or not, you're mine forever.”

She bites her bottom lip, a mischievous glint in her gaze. “I don't remember saying I want to be with you.”

Fire ignites in my chest, consuming me in a matter of seconds. “The way you kissed me told me everything I needed to know. You're mine. Admit it.” I pull her closer to me, our breaths mingling. “Admit it.”

“I'm yours.” She presses her palm to my cheek. “And I love you.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.” I smash my lips to hers once again. We don't come up for air until my head is spinning. Even then, I can't go far. I lower my forehead to hers and exhale. “I have one more surprise for you.”

She snorts. “You're spoiling me.”

“You haven't seen anything yet.” I step back and take her hand. “Though this time, the surprise is at the penthouse. If you don't want to go, that's absolutely okay. I can take you home.

But to be clear, sex is not my goal here. I simply want to make you happy.”

“Hmm…” She taps her lips with her index finger. “So you don't want me?”

The laugh that erupts from me is loud and thundering. I tug her toward the exit, shaking my head. “Trust me, Ry baby—if I fucked you the way I want you, you would've thought I don't respect you. And I'm trying my damnedest to honor you.”

“Good to know.”

“Where's my surprise?” Riley asks the moment we step out of the elevator.

“Have patience.” As I lead her down the hallway, my hand cradling hers, I'm calm on the outside. On the inside, though, I'm dying to see her reaction.

Fuck, I hope she likes it.

“After you left, when I realized I couldn't imagine my life without you, I did some work. I wanted to give you a space of your own.” I put my hand on the doorknob of the room that used to hold awards and memorabilia.

Heart in my throat, I push the door open and step aside. Rather than go in, she waits at the threshold, so I flip the light switch, illuminating the space. The gasp that leaves her mouth sends my heart galloping.

When she finally does move, her steps are slow, careful. Hands pressed to her cheeks, she takes it all in. Then, she heads to the barre and drags her hand along it. She pauses in front of the mirror wall, rolls her shoulders back, and turns in an elegant pirouette. In her white dress with her baby bump, she's a goddess. My own Persephone, lover of flowers and nature.

With her hand on the barre, her eyes find me in the mirror.

“You did this…for me?” she asks, voice quiet.

“Yeah,” I say, approaching her. “For you. Always for you.”

“Why? What would you have done if I didn't come back?”

I stop behind her, caging her in with my hands on either side of her. “Even if I failed to win you back, I figured we'd still be co-parenting and you'd probably spend time here. Regardless, I wanted you to have a place that's just yours.”

Her eyes darken, her gaze intense, liberating.

My fingers itch to touch her, but I rein in the need. “Riley, if you don't stop looking at me like that…I won't let you leave this room.”

She arches her back, her ass brushing against my groin. “Maybe I don't want to leave this room.”

I grip her hips, pulling her closer to me. “Don't say things like that unless you want me to wreck you.”

She rubs her ass against me again, this time grinding against my erection.

I groan, my vision tunneling. “This is your last warning, baby.”

“I want you.”

Those three simple words demolish my restraint. I brush her hair over her shoulder and leave a trail of kisses down her neck. When I suck on the skin just above her collarbone, she lets out a low moan. I slip my hand under her skirt and dip beneath her panties.

“Already soaking for me, baby,” I murmur. “I want to fuck you from behind. Think you can take it?”

The smirk that curves her lips is sinful. “Always.”

I take a step back and free myself from my jeans. As if she's as desperate as I am, she steadies herself, gripping the barre, and arches her back, giving me perfect access to her pussy. I yank her panties down her legs then position myself at her entrance.

I push inside her, taking it slow so she can get used to me. Her grip on the barre tightens, the look on her face pure ecstasy.

“Fuck…at this angle, I won't last long…” She moans when I'm halfway in. “Your barbells… I feel them all…”

“Just a little more, baby…” I roll my hips, watching her expression in the mirror. “You love when I fill your tight cunt…”

“I love everything about you…but your dick definitely takes the cake.” She's taunting me on purpose, and I love it.

With one final push, I bury myself deep. She cries out, gripping the barre so hard, her knuckles turn white. When a gush of warm liquid hits me, I smile smugly at her wide-eyed expression in the mirror.

“I already…came…” she whispers.

“One squirt and one orgasm down. A few more to go.”

Her moans reverberate through the space—damn, the acoustics in here are incredible. It might be my new favorite place for sex. I pick up the rhythm, fucking her nice and slow, letting her ride out her first orgasm.

“You're taking me so well, baby…” I catch her gaze in the mirror. “And watching you fall apart is so damn hot.”

She smiles faintly at me as I pound into her with more force. Scorching heat surges through my veins, spreading all over my body. My release is approaching, but I don't want to come until she's had a second orgasm.

“You're perfect like this,” I whisper, running a hand along her spine. “So fucking perfect.”

I caress her side then brush her baby bump with my fingertips before trapping her clit between my thumb and index finger. Skin against skin, our hips slap against each other as she rotates, adding a delicious friction that makes my vision blurry.

“I'm so close…”

That's what I wanted to hear.

I work her over, listening for cues. Her hitching breath. Her sweet moans.

The slapping of my pelvis against her ass is loud and deliciously dirty. Sweat drips down my temples as I thrust into her again, again, again. Finally, my world explodes, and her cunt spasms around me. Her moans wreck me, and the way she clenches around me makes it impossible to hold back any longer.

“Fuck, baby…” I roll my hips, prolonging her orgasm, drinking her in. Every move, every sound, every detail reflected in the mirror burns into me.

Because she's mine.

Just as much as I am hers.

After another round, this time in my bed, my girl riding me with abandon, we lie tangled up in one another, Riley tracing my ink with her fingertips.

It's raining again, the droplets hitting the windows relentlessly, the rhythm echoing my pulse. With her in my arms, even the bolts of lightning and claps of thunder are peaceful.

“I'll never stop loving the rain,” she murmurs.

“And I'll never stop loving you.”

Head lifted, she chuckles. “Who would've thought Hayden Hale would become the cheesiest person alive? Surely not me.”

“You have that effect on me, Ry baby. You make me soft.”

“There's nothing soft about you.” She shifts, resting her head on the pillow. “So much better.”

Laughing, I loop my arms around her waist and pull her on top of me. Fully naked, straddling me, her hair in total disarray, she's the most gorgeous sight I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. She's the best thing that could've happened to a guy like me. Everything about her makes me want to never let go.

Cupping her cheek, I drag my thumb back and forth over her soft skin. “I was doomscrolling a few days ago and stumbled on a really interesting video.” I brush her hair off her face. “You ever heard of the seven minutes theory?”

“I don't think so. What is it?”

“The theory states that when we die, our brains keep going for seven minutes, and we relive our best memories.” I prop myself on my elbow, holding her gaze. “You're my seven minutes, Ry baby,” I whisper. “Only you. Always only you.”

Eyes shining, she bends down to kiss me, silencing the rain and the storm outside until all that's left is her.

39

i love this man

Riley

This time when I move in with Hayden, it's for good.

I know in my heart he won't let me go. He won't push me away. The way Hayden Hale loves is unique and unexpected. Piper says she never thought he'd turn into such a simp, while Hunter laughs and says he's always had it in him.

It drives Hayden nuts that they talk about him like that, but it helps to keep his ego in check. If he knew half of what Story says about him, though, her praise for Uncle Hayden would inflate his ego to the size of the Empire State Building.

Nastya agreed to help me pack, but said she'd block me if I moved out again. I told her “never,” and once the word left my mouth, I knew I meant it. I'm here to stay.

We spend as much time together as we can, visiting our friends and taking walks like we are today. The sun is out, and it's warm for October, so we're taking advantage of the weather and spending time with Ines and Santi.

Santi chatters about the park the whole way, and when we finally reach it, Ines and I sit on the bench. Hayden, being Hayden is on the playground with Santi, gently pushing the swings. As Santi swings back toward him, he says something, and the little boy laughs, loud and contagious. This sight makes my heart sing and my imagination run wild with possibilities for our future, when it will be our little girl on a swing like that.

“You're glowing,” Ines says, pulling my attention away from Hayden. “And not just because you're pregnant. While your baby bump is visible now and you look gorgeous, this glow is simply because you're happy.” She searches my face. “And loved.”

Cheeks heating, I lower my head. “Thank you.”

“I'm just stating the obvious.” Her dark brown eyes sparkle. “And I can't wait to get you two into the studio. I have so many ideas for your photoshoot.”

A tingling sensation breaks out at the base of my neck. “The pictures you sent me as inspiration blew my mind.” I sneak a glance at Hayden, and then lean closer to Ines. “Hayden was at loss for words when I showed them to him.”

“Is he backing out?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Says he's all in.”

“Good boy,” she says with a smile.

A burst of laughter springs out of my mouth. “He sure is.”

Ines tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear and glimmer in her eyes dissipates. She lifts a cup of coffee to her lips, but instead of taking a sip, she lowers it again, muttering, “Sorry. My mood swings are something else.”

I move closer, a sharp pang piercing my heart, and take her hand in mine. “You don't need to be sorry. I understand.”

“I'm trying to build a life. For Santi and for me. I think…I think Owen would've wanted this for us. But there are days when I-I don't know if I'm doing any of this right.”

“It's not easy, but you're doing everything you can for your little boy. Hayden told me how much Owen loved you. And you're honoring that love every day. You're an amazing mom.”

I wrap my arm around her, pulling her to me.

She puts her head on my shoulder and sighs. “I wouldn't have made it to this place without Hayden. I was so lost and my life was shattered, but he held my broken pieces together even though he was falling apart himself. He did it for me, for Santi and for Owen too.” A strong shudder rolls through her body, and I tighten my hold on her. “I'm so happy he has you now. Because you're bringing him back. Every time I see him, I notice more glimpses of old Hayden. Of the guy I met when I started working with Sabotage. And it gives me hope…that maybe one day I'll find that too.”

“I'm sure you will.” Sniffling, I scan the playground, until I'm met with a familiar pair of green eyes. They're full of intensity, but also understanding. He misses Owen. He talks to him from time to time when he thinks no one is around. It breaks my heart, but it also fills my body with warmth and tenderness. Because it shows me just how deeply he loves. How deeply he cares.

Everything about Ted Lasso brightens my mood. It's fun and light, and the characters are so complex and full of life.

Hunter rolled his eyes when Hayden mentioned that we're watching it, but even he admitted the soccer parts are surprisingly accurate.

When the episode ends, I stand and pick up the empty mug off the coffee table, but before I can head to the kitchen, Hayden catches my arm. “Where are you going?”

“To wash my mug, and load the dishwasher before bed.”

He gives me his best puppy dog eyes. “The pile of plates and mugs won't go anywhere. I'll do it tomorrow morning.”

“I'll do it now.” I gently pull my hand out of his grip.

“Ry…” He stands too and wraps his arms around me. “It's late. Let's go to bed.”

I chuckle. “You go to bed. I'll join you soon.”

He cradles my face, looking at me with so much longing, that my resolve starts to disappear. Then he leans in and presses his lips to mine. This kiss is full of tenderness and love, making my heart beat faster.

Eyes closed, I let myself melt into his embrace. He brings out the strongest emotions in me. Some days I wonder if it will be like this after our daughter is born. What if my feelings are heightened because of pregnancy hormones?

He gives me a small peck. “Let's go to our bedroom.”

“Ten minutes top.” I bite my bottom lip. “Please.”

He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tipped up “Okay. But if you aren't in our bedroom in ten minutes, I'll bring you there myself.”

“Hmm. Maybe I should be late on purpose.” I giggle, stepping back from him.

He watches me, a cocky grin on his lips, as I pad into the kitchen. I put the mug into the sink, but before I can load the dishwasher, his strong arms wrap around me from behind.

My back is pressed to his naked chest, the heat of his skin seeping into mine. His hot breath fanning over my neck makes me shiver.

“Hade…”

“I can't get enough of you,” he whispers. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can during my hiatus.”

“If I continue to monopolize your time like I have been, everyone will hate me,” I murmur.

“Nah,” he says, his lips brushing my neck and sending a shiver down my spine. “They will understand. And if they don't, I don't care. They'll have to learn to accept it.” He takes my earlobe into his mouth, drawing a moan out of me.

“You're making it very hard for me to concentrate.” I grip the edge of the sink, still pressing myself into him. Because who am I kidding? I don't want him anywhere but beside me, even for a moment.

“Sorry. I can't help myself. You're so damn irresistible.”

I let out a short laugh. “And you're a kiss-ass.”

That earns me another kiss on my neck and a light slap on my ass. Then he steps back, taking his warmth with him. “Ten minutes.” He throws over his shoulder as he strides out of the room.

As I load the dishwasher, I reminisce about my past. I find myself doing it a lot recently. Even in my wildest dreams I couldn't have imagined that Hayden Hale would ever notice me, never mind that there would ever be a day when I would call him mine. Yet, that's my reality.

Hade is loving and caring, and he's not afraid to show his feelings for me, regardless of who's around. Last week, when he told me I know more about him than even Piper, my little heart pitter pattered and the butterflies in my stomach totally lost their minds.

I blink, returning to reality, and load another plate into the dishwasher. What I know for certain is that he keeps his promises. So I put the last glass on the top rack, close the dishwasher, and hurry out of the kitchen.

I find Hade in nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. Fresh out of the shower, droplets of water still running down his torso. It's like he's taunting me on purpose.

Trying to ignore the growing warmth in my lower abdomen, I snag a set of P.J's from the dresser and head to the bathroom.

“You barely made it before your ten minutes were up,” he teases as I walk past him.

“But I did.” I pause at the threshold. “While you took a shower without waiting for me to keep you company.”

His jaw unhinges and his towel slips lower, so it barely covers his groin.

It takes all my willpower to proceed with my plan to go to the bathroom. The damn man is enticing. “Well, I need ten more minutes,” I say and close the door.

The booming laughter that follows puts a smile on my face.

I love this man.

As I step out of the bathroom, I find Hayden tucked under the blanket with a book open in front of him and a serious expression on his face. I slip under the covers and wiggle, searching for a comfortable position. Without taking his eyes off the book, The Empire of the Wolves—a recommendation from me—he snakes his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close.

Am I that predictable?

“You were right. This book is more than just interesting,” he murmurs, glancing down at me. “Though, it's also very dark.”

“I read it twice. I'm glad you decided to give it a try. Maybe I'll eventually talk you into reading other books I love too.” I snuggle closer, closing my eyes. Mmm, he smells delicious.

“Maybe,” he says. “You want me to turn the lamp off? It's been a long day. You must be tired.”

“Lately I can barely make it past nine, and it's almost ten.” I yawn. “You can keep reading if you want. You're not bothering me.”

He chuckles, closing the book. “I love falling asleep holding you in my arms. No matter how much I like the storyline, I will always choose you.” He tips to one side, setting the book on the nightstand, and turns the lights off. Then he holds me tight, his warmth lulling me to sleep.

I'm on the border of losing consciousness when a sudden thought rears its head.

“Hade?”

“Yeah?” His raspy voice in my ear sends shivers down my spine.

“Ines mentioned something today that made me think about us. So there's something I wanted to ask you.” I stammer a little, my heart rate spiking.

He hums, shifting so we're eye to eye. “Why do you seem so apprehensive to ask?”

I take in a shaky breath. “It's just maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Maybe it's too early.”

“Let me be the judge here, okay? I'm listening.”

“I'm due in March.” I blurt out.

He snorts. “Dr. Bell mentioned that.”

“Ines told me how much it meant to her to have Owen there when she had Santi. How much it helped to have his support.” I worry my bottom lip and peer at him through the dark. “So I was wondering…would you be there with me?”

Immediately, I second-guess myself. I should have waited to ask. It's too soon.

His expression remains serious. “By 'there,' you mean the delivery room?”

“Uh-huh.”

He shifts, hovering over me now, his eyes locking with mine. “Did you really think I wouldn't want to be there? That I'd be okay missing our daughter's birth?”

My heart flutters, warmth spreading through me.

“Of course I'll be there. For you. And our little girl.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he murmurs.

I put my hand on the back of his neck, pulling his face down until our lips meet. The kiss is slow and gentle, making my skin hum. Only when it feels like I might faint due to lack of oxygen do I move away.

With his forehead pressed to mine, Hayden exhales. “Never hesitate to talk to me. About anything. I love you, and I will do absolutely anything for you.” He plants a kiss on my nose. “And for our baby girl.”

“Okay,” I whisper, turning to my right side. “Can you please hold me?”

A throaty chuckle leaves his mouth as he pulls me to his chest, his palm resting on my belly from behind.

“Love you, Ry baby.” He kisses the crown of my head.

“Love you too.”

Drifting off to sleep while feeling absolute happiness? With Hayden it's something that I feel all the time.

40

how are you even real?

Hayden

“How is Riley?”

“She's doing good,” I tell my brother as I step into the penthouse. “Dr. Bell was very happy with her thyroid hormone levels at our last appointment.” With the phone tucked between my ear and shoulder and a bouquet of pink tulips in hand, I slip off my shoes. “And our baby girl is growing. We're good.”

“That's great. I'm happy for you. We all are.”

Warmth spreads through me. “Thanks.”

My phone pings in my ear, so I pull it away to check the notification.

Nastya:

How is Riley?

The question has my pulse spiking. From Hunter it's fine, a casual topic, but from Nastya? Did something happen?

Another ping.

Nastya:

She's not picking up my calls. I'm worried

My stomach lurches. I swallow thickly, then press my phone to my ear again. “Sorry, Hunter, something came up. I need to get going.”

“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice is undeniable.

“Yeah, it's all good. Just got a text from…Glenn. Need to call him back.”

The last thing I need is for Hunter to say something to Piper, while I know nothing myself yet.

Once I've ended the call, I head straight to the living room. What I find breaks me. The lights are off, the only source of light Riley's laptop on the coffee table. She sits on the couch, a throw blanket wrapped around her and a pack of tissues on the cushion beside her. Her eyes are glued to the screen, her face tearstained.

What the hell happened?

I rush to the couch, put the bouquet on the table and crouch in front of her.

“Hey, babe.”

She fixes her focus on me, her lips trembling. “Hey.”

“What happened? Are you okay? Is our baby okay?” The questions leave me rapidly, my mind racing. My heart is beating so fast I fear it's ready to take off into space.

Eyebrows pinched together, she sniffles. Then she taps a key on her laptop and pauses a movie. “I'm okay. We're okay.”

I blink, a breath gusting out of me. “Er, really? Nastya said you aren't picking up your phone.”

Her eyes dart to the device next to the tissue box, then she focuses on me again. “I just wasn't in the mood. I wanted to watch something that would make me cry…because I needed a good cry.” She sniffles, dabbing under her eyes with her fingertips.

I study the screen, but I don't recognize the movie. “What were you watching?”

“Love, Rosie. It's one of my go-to movies when I feel low, and want to bawl.”

Relief washes over me. She's not hurt. The baby is okay. But the sensation is short-lived, because something must've happened for her to feel this way. And to have Nastya so worried about her?

“Yeah?” I stand and drop onto the couch beside her. “Do you have many movies on your list for a good cry?”

“Way too many, but my top three are A Walk to Remember, Love, Rosie and Coco.”

“Haven't watched any of them.” I drape an arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

She ducks, fiddling with a tissue in her lap. “It's stupid.”

“Nah-ah. That's not how it works.” I tut. “Remember how we made a promise to tell each other everything? Especially when something bothers us?”

Nodding, she peeks up at me.

“I'm here for you, babe. Tell me what happened.”

She worries her bottom lip, eyes darting away. “Can you please let Nastya know I'm okay? I'll call her tomorrow.”

“Sure.” I pull out my phone and send a quick voice message to Nastya. Then I lock the screen and toss the device onto the table.

“You bought me flowers.” Riley hiccups, her eyes finally back on me. They're full of tears, but at least there's a cute little smile playing on her lips. “They are beautiful. Thank you.”

“Anything for my girl.” I kiss her forehead, then cradle her against my chest. “Talk to me.”

She slots her head under my chin, her light caramel scent wafting over me. “I probably would've been fine with what I heard if it wasn't for my mood swings. But I woke up cranky, and it only got worse once I got to the studio.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “The girls made me feel better pretty quickly, but after my last class, Nastya came over so we could go to have lunch, and as we were leaving, we heard two moms talking about me. They were saying how disappointed they were that I'm pregnant. How they'll need to look for another teacher once my maternity leave starts.” Her head is down again. “Trust me, I get it. It's hard to find a teacher who's both good with kids and knows what they're talking about. But then they started talking about my body. About how much I've changed. Wondering out loud if I'd ever 'look the same again.'”

Fiery anger ignites in my chest. What the hell? They are moms themselves, how could they be so mean to her?

“Nastya snapped at them. Said they lack respect and human decency. They said they were sorry, that they were just worried about their girls because they love me. But I don't know. At that point, I just didn't have it in me to be strong about it.” She shrugs. “All I wanted was to come home and cry. So I did.”

The anger burning in me flares brighter at the defeat in her tone. Nastya was absolutely right for telling them off, and I'm so beyond grateful she was there to do it and to support Riley.

But no matter how pissed off I am, this is not about me. I need to make sure she's feeling better.

“I'm sorry, Ry baby. They have no right to talk about you like that.” I shift so I can have a look at her face. “You have no idea what I see when I look at you. The way your body's changed, the way you move, the way you carry our baby…fuck, all of it does something to me. I swear, you've never looked more beautiful.”

Her lips tremble and another tear slides down her cheek. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. I'm telling you how I feel.” My eyes drop to her mouth. “And I've never wanted anyone more than I want you right now.”

We're both silent then, watching one another, the air crackling between us, electrifying energy surging around us.

I take her hand in mine, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Come here.”

She lets me guide her to my lap, the throw blanket slipping to the floor as she swings a leg over mine and straddles me.

I put my hands on her hips, digging my fingers into her ass and the world falls away. The only sounds are the steady pounding of my heart and our breaths mingling.

Inching closer, she presses her lips to mine. Tentative, almost featherlike.

I grab the back of her neck, deepening the kiss, slipping my tongue between her parted lips.

As I kiss her, desire builds inside me, fire spreading beneath my skin. Her tongue, her soft lips, her hot breath consume me, making me lose all sense of time. A quiet moan slips out of her mouth, as I drag my lips down to her neck. I suck and nibble, then trace the delicate column of her throat with my tongue.

“Hayden, please…” She moans, rolling her hips over my groin.

With my mouth at her ear, I whisper, “You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

“Then show me,” she murmurs, sliding her hands under my hoodie.

“I'm going to enjoy every second of my time with you.” I suck her earlobe into my mouth. “There's no rush, and only your pleasure matters.”

She smiles, her eyes finally full of her usual fire. “I love the sound of it.”

I take off my hoodie then toss it to the floor, her tee follows. The sight of her full tits in her bra sends a rush of energy straight to my dick. It strains against my jeans, already eager for release.

“How are you even real?” I cup her breasts. “Fuck, you're making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Slowly I caress her sides, then I cover her growing baby bump with my palms.

“You are absolutely breathtaking, Ry.”

As I lightly drag my fingers over her skin, molten need flows through my veins.

Riley takes the opportunity to explore my body too, tracing my tattoos and along the ridges of my abdominals. By the time she sneaks her hand under the waistband of my briefs, I'm hanging by a thread.

“Dammit, babe.” I stand, making her stand too.

I quickly get rid of my jeans, and give my hard dick a single pull. With a seductive grin, she zeroes in on it. Then she wraps her hand around my shaft and gives it a long slow stroke. A whimper—a fucking whimper—leaves me. Fuck. Never in my life have I made a sound like that.

“Don't even think about it.” I hiss.

“Why?” She shuffles closer and cups my balls.

“Ry...” My voice is barely audible, but I gather my willpower and take a step back. “Take off your shorts, and turn around.”

“Are you going to boss me around all the time?” she asks, though she shimmies out of her shorts as she does.

“No. Only when you're being a tease.” I step into her and grasp her hips. “Turn around, Ry.”

Teeth dug into her bottom lip, she obeys.

I push her hair away, and then plant a kiss on her shoulder while unhooking her bra. I slip it down her arms, then fling it to the floor, joining the pile of our clothes.

I pull her against my chest, then slide my hands to her hips. “You're so beautiful, babe. I swear to God, I can't get enough of you.”

She wiggles her ass against my groin. “I want you so much. I'm dripping already.”

I cup her breasts from behind, tenderly caressing her sensitive tits and when I tug on her nipple, her breath hitches.

“Hayden, please…”

“Get on the couch, babe.”

She puts one knee on the cushion, then the other, and rests her elbows on the back. As I watch her body move so gracefully, every inch of me is tuned in to her. Tingles spread through me as I center myself against her core. Slowly I push into her, then pull away. I repeat the motion again and again, sliding deeper into her warmth each time.

“God, baby, you're so wet.”

“I'm so full.” She lets out a moan, her head lolling back. “Your barbells…”

Smugness rolls through me, making my chest expand. “Not yet you aren't. You can take more of me.” I slide back again, then sink farther in. “One more, baby.” In a slow thrust, I slide home, now balls deep inside her. “Fuuuuuck.”

A shuddering breath leaves her, followed by a loud moan. “So good…”

I keep my pace slow and gentle to start, relishing the sounds our bodies make together. She moves her hips, meeting me half-way, sucking me impossibly deep.

It's raw, the sensation that crashes over me and takes my breath away. No other thoughts or worries. The rest of the world disappears. All that's left is us and our desire for each other.

I palm her breast, kneading it and playing with her nipple. With a gasp, she slips a hand between her legs, adding more pleasure with her fingers on her clit.

When her whimpers and moans get louder, I pick up the pace. She cries out, arching her back, as her orgasm crashes over her. Her insides spasm around me, strangling my dick. I only last three more pumps before I'm spilling inside her. I keep my rhythm going, fucking her in a calculated tempo, letting her ride out her release.

Her muscles relax, and I pull away, my breaths coming fast and shallow.

Riley peers at me over her shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eye. “How about round two?”

Chuckling, I slap her ass. “I'll never say no to that.” I snake my hand around her middle and pull her to me, soaking in the warmth of her. “But how about we move this to our bedroom?”

She turns in my arms, and loops her arms around my torso. “Yes please.”

I lower my head and kiss her gently. Her soft lips are my addiction. I can't get enough of her.

She eventually pulls away, gasping for air, so I take the opportunity given and kneel in front of her and press my lips to her belly. “I love you, baby girl. I hope you can forgive me for the fun your mom and I are having.”

“Hayden,” Riley murmurs, her voice full of emotion.

“What? I want our baby to know that I love her just as much as I love her mom. Is it that bad?”

“No. Never.”

We still need dinner, but first, I'm dead set on eating my favorite meal—Riley's pussy. So I get to my feet, and then with a wink, I scoop her into my arms and carry her to our bedroom. She giggles the whole way, not a trace of her gloomy mood in sight. Good. I love seeing her smile more than anything in the world.

41

it's about someone i love

Riley

The penthouse is quiet save for Hayden's voice drifting from my laptop. I'm curled up on the couch, legs tucked under me, one hand resting on my belly out of habit.

Twenty-four weeks. The bump is undeniable now.

I'm honestly still in shock at how fast time flies. It feels like only yesterday I was coming over to the penthouse to check on Hayden, and now I live here with him.

The sound of laughter snaps me out of my musings. Hayden is busy promoting his new single, and I'm watching one of the many podcasts he's been on. I listen to them all, though I haven't told him that.

“So let's talk about 'Hades.' The internet's on fire.” The host smiles. “People are saying in this song, we see you at your most vulnerable—and that includes the Sabotage tribute album that made us all cry ugly tears. That's a pretty solid statement.”

I rub my belly, enjoying the waves of warmth spreading through me. He hesitated to release the song, but I pushed, telling him his audience deserved to hear him like that. Now, “Hades” is everywhere. An instant hit. The fans are losing their minds.

The label's calling it magic. I know in my bones it's because it wasn't just a song. It was him in his rawest form. It was me. Us.

“Who's it about?” the host asks.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, already knowing his polished answer, the one Glenn insisted he give.

Hayden clears his throat, and his voice dips lower. “It's about someone I love.”

My heart practically leaps out of my chest. No way.

“Wow.” The host whistles. “So…are you in a relationship?”

“Yeah,” he admits without hesitation, a handsome grin playing on his face. “I am, and I'm also going to be a dad. So there you have it.”

Just then, our little girl kicks my palm. It lights me up further. I so want Hayden to feel it, but he's been so busy, and she always seems to be active when he's gone.

“This person must be special to cause such strong emotions…”

Hayden smiles. “She's not just special. She's the one, and she's the reason I can still write music, the reason I still get up in the morning and do this. She saved me, and I wanted the world to know about her.”

He's never said it publicly before, not like this. Glenn won't be happy about it.

The host chuckles, leaning in. “Man, I think you just broke the hearts of half our listeners.”

Hayden presses his hand to his chest, dipping his head slightly. “Well, guess they'll just have to forgive me.”

I'm on cloud nine, his words replaying in my head, making it hard to focus on the rest of the interview. When the elevator dings, I shut the laptop. There's no way I'll let him see me hanging on his every word.

Hayden steps into the living room, wearing a black hoodie and light blue jeans. His bleached hair is messy, probably because he's been running his fingers through it, and he's carrying a bouquet of dark blue irises.

“Hey.” He hovers over me and plants a kiss on my lips. “For you.” He holds out the flowers.

“I still have roses and lilies!” Even so, I press the flowers to my chest and inhale their sweet scent.

“The more the merrier, baby. We can have a bouquet in every room. You know that.”

I shift, making room for him on the couch, and when he sits, he presses a kiss to the crown of my head and splays a hand over my belly. “How's she doing?”

“She's good. Happy her daddy's home.” I can't hold back my smile—not that I want to. “And she's active.”

“Good. Maybe she'll finally stop ignoring me.” He frowns at my belly, like our baby girl really is snubbing him.

Head thrown back, I laugh. “Is she ignoring you, or are you always busy when she's active, hm?” I snag his hand and drag it lower, to where I've felt her rolling all day. “Here. Wait.”

He obeys, his palm hot against my skin, and then it happens—a sharp little kick, right into his palm.

His eyes go wide. “Was that…?”

“Uh-huh.” I nod, tears stinging my eyes. “That's her.”

“Our girl is strong.” He lets out a light laugh then drops his forehead to mine. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I cover his hand with mine.

The world outside is a frenzy—charts, podcasts, shows, paparazzi—but in this moment, in this apartment, it's just us. Him, me, and the life we made, saying hello in the only way she knows how.

He wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my neck, breathing me in as if I'm air. The sweet nothings he whispers make my heart sing. Never in my life did I expect to end up here.

In a world in which Hayden Hale exists, I never had a chance to fall out of love with him. He's always been it for me, and now, we're finally on the same page.

A page marked with ink, with the lyrics to our love story—the song I never want to stop listening to.

42

our iris

Hayden

I've never been the biggest fan of hospitals. The smell, the constant beeping of machines, the fact that no one ever really goes there for a good reason. It's always about something being wrong. Honestly, the whole place makes my discomfort shoot through the roof.

But I don't want to feel that way right now.

Today is special. Today is the day.

I pull my shoulders back and head toward Riley's room, breathing in and out, trying to ease the tension in my muscles. I had time to prepare for this. Riley and I signed up for childbirth classes at the hospital, and by the end of it, I was sure I'd be ready.

Judging by how my extremities are trembling, I'm starting to doubt they did me any good.

With a slow exhale, I push the door open and step inside. My heart is somewhere in my throat, making me feel slightly nauseous.

Riley's face lights up the moment our eyes meet. Her shoulders visibly relax as I walk over to her.

“I'm glad you're back,” she says.

“I'm sorry, babe. Pip called, and somehow she managed to make me even more nervous with all her questions.” I take her hand in mine. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm okay.” She laces our fingers together.

I lean down and press a soft kiss to her lips. “Pip said your mom is already on her way to the airport. Mine too. Apparently I should be expecting a lecture from both of them. At least that's what your sister said.”

“Why?” Her brows knit together.

“Because I didn't call them the second I brought you to the hospital. Or better yet, we should've called yesterday when your contractions started.”

“Oh my God, they're impossible.” She laughs, but the sound fades almost instantly as she grimaces. “The pain is getting stronger with every minute.”

A sharp pang pierces my chest. I fucking hate seeing her in pain...especially when there's nothing I can do.

“What did Dr. Bell say?”

“I'm almost seven centimeters dilated, and my water already broke. She said that should make things move faster.” She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I heard her heartbeat, Hade. It's so steady and so familiar.” She meets my gaze, a soft smile spreading across her lips. “I've been looking forward to this day for so long, but I think I'm going to miss being pregnant. And her kicks.”

“Oh yeah, I'll miss those kicks too.” I grin. “Remember last weekend? We woke up and stayed in bed forever, and I was rubbing your belly. She kicked you every time I moved my hand away.”

“Well, what can I say?” She smiles softly. “She just loves her daddy.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, smiling at each other. The understanding between us feels almost unreal. Soulmate-level. I honestly don't have better words to describe what I feel when she's around. I cherish every second I get to spend with her.

“Hade, are you sure about all this?” she asks quietly. “I know you said you'd be there for me, but…the view might not be very pleasant. I'm afraid you'll be disgusted with me.”

“Riley, stop.” My voice comes out firm but gentle. “I'm here with you, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be. You and our little girl are the most important people in the world to me.”

I cup her cheek, and she leans into my palm while I brush my thumb over her skin. Her eyes sparkle with that familiar warmth. She's happy, and that's all that matters to me.

My heart pounds in my chest as I bend down and capture her lips in a slow, gentle kiss.

Someone clears their throat behind me, and I reluctantly pull away.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I really need to check on my patient.” Dr. Bell's familiar, cheerful voice fills the room.

I straighten and glance over my shoulder. She's standing in the doorway with a knowing smile.

“It's good that Ms. Evans has you, Mr. Hale,” she says. “Though considering you never missed a single appointment, I can't say I'm surprised.”

“Of course,” I reply. “My girls are my everything.”

She nods and walks closer to the bed.

“Riley, how are you feeling?”

“In pain,” Riley breathes, still trying to smile.

Dr. Bell chuckles softly. “Well, that's not very helpful.” Then she glances between us. “I need to check how dilated you are,” she says. “Mr. Hale, you can wait in the hallway if you'd like.”

I clear my throat. “I'm staying.”

“Alright.” She nods easily and moves into position beside the bed.

I take Riley's hand again, studying her face. She's paler than usual, and her bottom lip looks a little bruised as she's clearly been chewing on it. A crease deepens between her brows and she squeezes my hand harder as Dr. Bell checks her.

Dr. Bell straightens. “Well,” she says, pulling off her gloves, “it's time.”

“Wh-what?” Riley's eyes fly open, wide with fear, darting straight to me. The monitor beside the bed starts beeping faster as her heart rate spikes.

“Riley, everything's okay,” Dr. Bell says calmly. “You're ready. No reason to panic. I'm going to get the delivery team and we'll start getting you set up, alright? I'll be back in about five minutes.”

Riley nods weakly.

Dr. Bell leaves the room, the door clicking softly behind her.

I brush Riley's damp hair off her forehead.

“You still don't want me to call Nastya?” I ask.

Her lips start trembling. “You aren't going to leave me, are you?” she whispers. “I don't want to be alone… I don't want to be without you.”

“I'm not going anywhere, Ry baby.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “I'm right here. I'm not leaving your side. Not for a second.”

Her tear-filled eyes lock on mine. “Thank you.” She swallows thickly, then nods. “Can you call Nastya? Just tell her we're here…and that we'll call later.”

“Of course.”

I pull my phone from my pocket and dial.

She picks up on the third ring. “Hey.”

“Hi. How are you? How's Grant?”

“I'm good… Grant's good too.” She pauses. “Wait. Is Riley okay?”

“Yeah. She's okay. We're at the hospital.”

Her voice jumps an octave. “What? Why?”

“Today's the day.” I glance at Riley. Her eyes are closed as she focuses on her breathing the way they taught us in class.

“Oh God. I can't believe it… I think—I think I need to sit down.”

A shaky sob comes through the phone, sending a warm wave through my chest. The love Riley and Nastya have for each other never stops amazing me. They're basically like sisters. They'd do anything for each other.

“Is she really okay?”

“She is,” I reassure her. “We'll call you later when our baby girl is here.”

“Thank you, Hade. Tell Ry I love her.”

“I will.”

I end the call and slip my phone back into my pocket. “I think your best friend is on the verge of a nervous breakdown after hearing the news. And she asked me to tell you she loves you.”

“I love her too.”

“I think she knows that.”

My relationship with Nastya wasn't exactly great in the beginning, but I can't blame her for being overprotective of Riley. She's always put her best friend first, and honestly, I respect the hell out of that. Besides, I think I eventually won her over by continuing to show up for Riley—never giving up on her and proving, again and again, that she's the one for me.

“I'm sorry I panicked… I don't even know what came over me,” Riley murmurs.

“Hmmm.” I pretend to think. “Maybe the fact that you're about to give birth to our daughter.”

“Maybe.” She lets out a small laugh. “Thank you so, so much for being here with me.”

“As I said there's nowhere else I'd rather be.” I squeeze her hand. “I love you, Ry baby.”

“I love you too.”

When Dr. Bell returns, everything suddenly moves fast.

A nurse follows her in, and the room shifts into organized chaos. Equipment is adjusted, the bed is raised, gloves snap into place.

I stay right by Riley's side every second, helping her breathe the way we practiced in class, encouraging her to listen to the doctor. Inside, my heart feels like it's about to explode out of my chest. But on the outside, I keep myself calm.

I need to be strong for my girls.

Less than twenty minutes later, the room fills with the sharp, beautiful cry of a newborn.

Riley and I are parents now.

Our baby girl is here.

“Well,” Dr. Bell says a few minutes later, after the nurses finish their quick measurements, “your daughter is a very healthy girl. Nineteen inches and seven pounds.”

Riley looks exhausted, and I'm pretty sure I'm soaked in sweat from head to toe.

“You did amazing, Riley,” Dr. Bell adds warmly. “You're a great listener. Even under pressure.”

“It's all thanks to Hayden,” Riley whispers, her voice barely audible. “Can I hold her?”

Dr. Bell nods and gently places the baby in Riley's arms.

Riley cradles her carefully against her chest. Her gaze is full of wonder and love as she studies our daughter's tiny face.

My heart feels like it might burst. The rush of emotion flooding my veins is overwhelming, almost intoxicating. I'm drunk on happiness.

I am a dad.

A nurse steps into the room and leans toward Dr. Bell. They exchange a few quiet words before both of them glance in our direction.

“Well,” Dr. Bell says gently, “we're going to take her for a quick check and bring her right back. It won't take more than fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Yes.” Riley swallows and carefully hands our daughter to the nurse.

“Riley, sweetheart, you need to rest,” Dr. Bell says kindly. “You just delivered a baby. Try to relax and maybe get a little sleep. We'll bring your daughter right back as soon as we're done.”

Ry nods weakly. “Okay.”

A few moments later, the room grows quiet again. It's just the two of us.

“Thank you, Hade,” Riley murmurs. “Thank you for being here with me.”

“Hey.” I brush her hair away from her face. “You need to stop thanking me. I didn't do anything. You were incredible. I'm so damn proud of you.” I pause, studying her soft smile. “So…what about the name? We went through so many options.”

The moment I ask, her eyes light up. “As soon as I saw her, I knew,” she says softly. “She's Iris.” She smiles at me dreamily. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” Tears are streaming down my face, and I don't fucking care. “I love it. And Iris Hale sounds pretty damn cool.”

She smiles slowly. “It does.” Her eyes grow heavy, and she yawns.

“Get some rest. I'll be right here with you and our baby girl.” I kiss her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you”—she yawns again—“too.”

It takes her less than two minutes to fall asleep.

I settle into the chair by the window and send a few quick texts to our families, then to our friends. Happiness burns inside my chest, making me feel almost weightless, like I'm some kind of hot-air balloon filled with too much warmth to stay on the ground.

When the nurse returns with our baby girl, she walks over and gently places my daughter into my arms. With a soft smile, she nods and quietly leaves the room.

I cradle my baby against my chest, my eyes never leaving her face. She looks so peaceful. So perfect. My chest tightens with so much joy and love it almost hurts.

“Hi, Iris,” I whisper. “It's your dad.” I trace her chubby cheek with the tip of my finger. “Ever since I heard your heartbeat for the first time, I've loved you. And now that I finally get to see you…” My voice cracks. “I love you even more.” I swallow hard, tears are leaking down my face. “You're my world, baby girl. You and your mommy are my everything. I'll do anything for the two of you.” I brush my lips softly against her tiny forehead. “Because you're my love songs.”

As I sit there with my daughter in my arms, I realize I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life. I don't even know what to do with all these feelings. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to sing. I want the whole world to know that I'm a dad. That the love of my life gave me the most precious gift in the world—our daughter.

Our Iris.

43

let me be there for you

Riley

I keep my ears pricked, listening to the sounds of the apartment while I dry my body with a towel.

What if Iris is awake? What if she needs me? What if…

I shake my head. This is ridiculous. You fed her and she fell asleep. You were only in the shower for five minutes, besides Hayden is home.

Taking a deep breath, I drop the towel to the floor and slip into a pair of shorts and a blue T-shirt.

I'm combing my hair when there's a knock on the door. With a little huff, I shake my head. As if he needs my permission to open it.

“Come on in.”

Hayden appears and strides straight to me. Our eyes lock in the mirror, and he arches a brow, looking absolutely unamused.

“What?” I ask.

“You were so desperate for a shower, yet you were in and back out of it in three minutes?”

“In five.”

He smirks. “Ry, our baby girl is asleep in her crib, and I'm here. I've got the monitor and everything.” He sets the device on the counter and wraps his arm around my shoulders from behind. “I have a feeling you don't trust me enough.”

“I trust you.” I put the comb on the countertop and cover the hand he has splayed on my breastbone. “I just… You'll be on tour in three months. I feel like I should start getting used to doing this on my own. And you've been so busy and so tired after rehearsals and studio hours. I don't want to put more pressure on you, to add more to your plate. You're⁠—”

He covers my mouth, cutting me off mid-sentence. I blink up at him.

“You done?” he asks.

I shake my head.

He only rolls his eyes. “Yeah. You are.”

In his reflection, I catch sight of the tiny pair of pointe shoes inked on his hand and my heart melts. He got this one for me. So, in his words, everyone would know that his heart now belongs to a ballerina.

“When you told me you were pregnant, I told you I'd be there for you. Always. When you said you wanted to keep the baby, I said then we're keeping her. She's just as much mine as she is yours.” His voice is firm, unwavering. “You don't get to decide you're doing this alone.

Not now. Not ever.” With a thumb, he brushes my cheek. “Don't worry about my plate, Ry. Let me carry yours for a while. Let me be there for you. Especially when it comes to our daughter.”

Slowly, I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I love you, Hayden. I don't know what I'd do without you. You're an incredible dad…and the best partner I could've ever asked for. I'm so lucky you're mine.”

“I love you too. And trust me, I'm the lucky one here.” He kisses me softly, his fingers brushing over my skin where my T-shirt has ridden up, and when he pulls back, he drinks me in, wearing a small smirk. “You look hot, by the way.”

Groaning, I push him away.

His laughter fills the room as he takes a step back.

Iris is only a month old, and Dr. Bell hasn't cleared me to have sex yet. Hayden has been supportive and firm in his belief that we follow her orders. It's just…with him leaving for the tour soon, I can't shake this stupid feeling that I'm letting him down.

“I know you mean well, but I feel awful making you wait. I'm sorry that⁠—”

He shuts me up, this time stepping into me, making me back away until my ass bumps into the vanity. Arms around my waist, he lifts me and sets me on the countertop.

I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer as he slides his hands down my sides, steering clear of my breasts. My heart is pounding so hard I can barely breathe. This foreplay that can't go anywhere will be the death of me, and he does it all the damn time.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I loop my arms around his neck.

“I haven't decided yet.” He grins. “But I picked up a few tricks from my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend?” I quirk an eyebrow, the butterflies in my stomach letting loose. “What is she like?”

“My girlfriend is the most beautiful girl in the world. Her eyes remind me of a blue sky just after a storm rolls through and the sun returns. Her lips drive me insane. Every time she says my name, I lose it a little.” He brings his mouth to my ear. “Especially when she falls apart for me.”

God, I want to kiss him so badly. “Is there anything else I should know about your girlfriend?” My voice is a breathy whisper.

“She has a heart of gold. And she's kind, gentle and compassionate. She always looks out for her friends, and her family means the world to her.” He nuzzles into my neck and nibbles on my skin. “My girlfriend has a great sense of humor and it's such a pleasure spending time in her company.”

“Is that all?”

“I forgot the most important detail, Ry baby.” He cups my face, his green eyes glued to mine. “My girlfriend is a wonderful mom. The role fits her perfectly. I'm so damn proud of her.”

I inch into him and our lips collide. The kiss is slow, but burning, making my heart race. Our tongues swirl and dance in the rhythm only they know. Goosebumps scatter all over my skin as he digs his fingers into my flesh. Back arched, I press myself closer to him, determined to leave absolutely no space between us. He grinds against me, his hardness pressing against my core. A moan springs out of my mouth and the heat in my lower abdomen flares.

Hayden is the one to stop the kiss. He presses his forehead to mine, inhaling deeply. “I'm sorry, Ry. I just wanted you to know how much I want you. Only you. Always only you. And I got carried away.”

I shake my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” I give him a quick peck on the lips. “You did everything right. This was a reminder of how we used to be and a promise of what we'll have again. You make me feel beautiful again. You're incredible to me, Hayden.”

“I love you.” He kisses my nose, then helps me to my feet. “What do you want to do? Maybe we can have dinner and then watch T.V.”

“Absolutely yes.” Smiling, I head out of the bathroom. “Iris behaved today, so I had time to cook one of your favorite meals while you were with the guys.”

“Spaghetti with meatballs?” he asks, following me out of the bathroom. “Pancakes?”

As we step into the kitchen, he trails off and comes to a stop. The place is filled with a scent so familiar he should figure it out quickly.

And he does. “Roasted chicken in sweet-and-sour sauce with rice.” His face lights up. “You're spoiling me, babe. Can I help you?”

“Nope. Just sit and enjoy the view.”

Hayden is animated, talking about his day in the studio while we eat dinner. The excitement in his eyes when he mentions a new verse or a song idea always makes me smile.

Sometimes, when a topic reminds him of Owen, his mind drifts. But it's not heavy like it used to be. It's softer. Almost fond. Like he's remembering, not hurting. And somehow, that makes me love him even more.

We've made it all the way through the meal before Iris wakes up, her pitiful cries echoing from the monitor. Hayden changes her diaper and brings her to me. While I feed our little girl, he stays in the kitchen, washing the plates and mugs.

Mom offered to fly over to help. Willow did too. We told them we were fine. That we wanted to figure this out on our own for now.

Our moms weren't thrilled, but they understood. And I've had to swear to both of them that I'll call the second I feel overwhelmed.

By the time I finish feeding Iris and settle her back into the crib, my eyes burn with exhaustion. Hayden pulls me to the couch and turns on Outer Banks, saying we deserve at least one episode before calling it a night.

I curl up against him, telling myself I'll stay awake.

I don't.

When I wake up, I'm disoriented. It takes a moment to register that I'm in the living room. The lights are off, and I think I heard Iris cry.

It doesn't surprise me that I fell asleep, but where is Hayden? And why didn't he wake me up?

With a yawn, I stand and head quietly to our bedroom. As I approach the half-open door, a soft voice makes me pause. I push the door open farther and watch my little family from there.

Hayden is standing by the window, Iris cradled to his bare chest. He's murmuring to her. His voice is low, steady, almost hypnotic.

I pad to his side, and when I rest my hand on his, he gives me a soft smile. Rising on my tiptoes, I peek over his shoulder at our daughter. The sight melts me completely. Eyes closed, pacifier bobbing gently, Iris is fast asleep.

He shifts, careful and unhurried, and lays her in the crib.

When he comes back to me and wraps his arms around me, I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in.

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

“We fell asleep on the couch,” he whispers. “I heard her cry, but you were sleeping so soundly. I didn't want to wake you. I figured I'd try to settle her myself, so you could sleep a bit longer.”

“You shouldn't have done that. You need to be at the studio at ten, and you need your sleep.”

“It's not a big deal.” He leans away and looks down at me. “Let's go back to bed?”

“Uh-huh.”

Even though we're both exhausted, we don't fall asleep until our lips are numb from kissing. Hayden holds me against his chest, and all my love for him sits heavy and warm inside me.

I love him. Truly. Without any walls or pretenses. I love all of him.

Hayden found his way into my heart years ago without even trying. Without even knowing. And somehow, he never left.

Honestly? I wouldn't want it any other way.

epilogue

Hayden

Four years later

The ocean hums just outside the window. The steady push and pull of the waves is soothing, the first sound I hear every morning now. Four years ago, I never could've imagined a life like this: with Riley, our little girl, and a house by the beach in California. I thought I loved my life in New York, but compared to this? I was merely existing there.

Though maybe, at that time in my life, it was what I needed. I did have happy days, and I created a lot of good memories. Then, there's Riley. If I hadn't been in New York…hell, I don't even want to imagine what my life would be like without her.

I nearly drowned in guilt and grief after losing Owen, but Riley saved me. She gave me a new purpose and healed me in a way I didn't think would be possible. Then, when she got pregnant, my whole world turned upside down. Every day since, I've been filled to the brim with love and most days happiness too. I'm calmer, more thoughtful, and I'll do anything for my family.

I still talk to Owen when I feel stuck, and when dark days come, I remember that as long as we remember him, he will continue to live on through us.

Fame is loud—it always has been—but my life with Riley and our little girl isn't.

I'm still the frontman of Sabotage, still the guy whose face ends up on screens and magazine covers, but what happens behind our front door stays ours. We share what we choose to share, nothing more, nothing less. A photo here, a line in an interview there. I'm not hiding that I'm a family man now, but the rest is off-limits. And somehow, thank God, people respect that.

Riley used to be terrified of the spotlight, of the stories, of the Sabotage fans. That's no longer the case—the way she doesn't flinch when my name trends, the way her hand stays in mine when we meet paparazzi. She knows she's not public property. She's my wife. My everything. Those are the only titles that matter.

A sudden snore from the floor rips me out of my thoughts. Shaking my head, I eye the little beast. If someone had told me two years ago a dog this small could snore like that, I never would've given him to Riley.

And to think, I caved and bought a second Pomeranian for Iris six months ago. Something is seriously wrong with me. My girls make me so soft; they have me wrapped around their fingers.

I bend down and rub the dog between his ears. “Archie, stop snoring. You're distracting me.” He opens one beady black eye then closes it again and goes right back to snoozing, but thankfully, the snoring stops. “Thank you.”

Taking a deep breath, I focus on the sheet music in front of me. When Riley and I decided to move to California, I thought we would end up in L.A, where our parents are, or in Santa Clara, where our siblings live. Yet, somehow, we found ourselves in a two-story house on the beach in Monterey.

We knew we wanted a place big enough for a music studio for me and a dance studio for Riley. This house checked all our boxes. And, as a bonus, Grant recently accepted a job offer from a financial technology company here, so he and Nastya, along with their three cats and an adorable two-year-old daughter, live close by.

I push away a note sheet, frowning. It's impossible to focus on writing music when I've got so much to do for Riley's birthday.

The tour ended four months ago. Now, I'm enjoying my time with my family. It was so damn hard to be away from my girls—eight months is far too long. Sure, they flew out to see me a few times, but Iris is too little to be on the road more than occasionally.

She needs the stability and comfort our home provides, and I need them. Her, Riley, and the baby she's carrying.

Laughter filters in from the terrace, officially ruining my chances of writing. I'd much rather see my girls. Riley's voice is a low murmur, and then Iris shrieks about a sandcastle. I shake my head, stand, and head out to join them.

I drink Riley in, fascinated as always by how gorgeous she is. My wife is dressed in a light blue tee and jean shorts, her legs looking endless like they always do. Other than a little extra curve to her hips, her body hasn't really changed since before she had Iris. She prefers more blue highlights than she used to, and today, her hair is up in a messy bun. She has sunglasses on, but the moment she notices me in the doorframe, she perches them on top of her head.

“Decided to join us?” she asks with an arched brow.

“Can't think straight when the two of you are being so loud,” I tease.

An orange furball barrels at my legs, headed inside. My daughter giggles as she darts for me too, probably playing tag with her puppy, PowPow.

“Daddy!” she yells.

I crouch and catch her in my arms, ensuring PowPow makes it into the house safely so he can have a break. I stand and fix my focus on my little girl.

She has eyes the color of a light blue sky with hints of green, a pert nose, and a pouty mouth. She's the perfect blend of Riley and me, blonde hair and everything. Today, it's in two braids, the way she typically begs her mom to do it. She's beautiful and funny and just a little bit naughty.

“What are you up to?” I ask her.

“Playing tag with PowPow.”

I shoot a glance at Riley, and she only shrugs. “She didn't want to paint with me.”

“In this weather?” I chuckle. “I wouldn't want to paint either.”

She narrows her eyes. “For the record, your daughter didn't want to paint with me because I told her she couldn't paint on the dogs.”

I bite back a laugh. Why is it always “my daughter” when she does something naughty?

“Iris, we talked about this.” I try to catch her eye, but she's busy staring at the ink on my chest. “Archie and PowPow are our family, and we don't paint on our family.”

“We don't paint on pets at all, family or not,” Riley chimes in, coming closer. She tugs on one of Iris' braids. “Do you hear me?”

Cheeks puffy, our little girl looks from me to her mom and back again before she nods. “I love Achie and PowPow.”

“Then please remember they have feelings.” I brush my thumb over her cheek. “How about you draw a couple of pictures for your grannies? Then we'll go swimming.”

Eyes alight, she frantically nods and wiggles in my arms. Placing a kiss to her forehead, I set her down and make sure she's stable before I let her go. With another shriek, she races to the low table outside. In no time, she's drawing, her tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth.

“Thank you,” Riley whispers.

I pull her back against my chest, my hands on her belly. She's only two months along, so I can't feel the baby moving, but I close my eyes and recall the way it felt when she was carrying Iris.

“Mom and Wade will be here on Monday. Dad is flying with them too,” she tells me. “Your mom and dad are set to arrive on Wednesday. Hunter and Piper and the kids will be here on Friday, and my birthday is Saturday. What are we going to do with so many people in this house?”

“We'll make it work.” I drop a kiss to her shoulder. “Just think about how many nannies you'll have at once. Iris will always be busy.”

Melodic laughter bursts out of her, her body shaking against mine. “That's a good point.”

Her birthday is next week. She thinks we're keeping it simple—just our family and a few friends—but I've got something else planned. Ines and Santi will join us too, and Riley has no idea. She's going to lose her mind when she sees them. My wife misses them as much as I do.

We sway from side to side, watching our daughter, listening to the waves lap against the shore. Lulled by the peacefulness of it all, my mind drifts to my studio, where I hid the flash drive containing the song I wrote on tour. Another song about her, her and our little girl, because they are my whole world.

“You're too quiet.” She turns in my arms. “What are you hiding?”

I smirk. “You're imagining things.”

With a shake of her head, she huffs a laugh. “You're a terrible liar, Hayden.”

God, I love her.

I press my lips to hers and pull her in tighter. She kisses me back sweetly, her soft mouth molding to mine. The ocean roars, the seagulls scream somewhere in the sky, and a beachgoer laughs nearby, adding to the soundtrack of the moment. With her, every moment is perfect.

“Whatever you're planning for my birthday,” she murmurs, smiling against my mouth, “don't go overboard.”

“I make no promises, Ry baby.” I peck her nose. “You know I love spoiling you.”

She cuddles against my chest, and I soak in the feel of her, watching our daughter draw.

My little family. I would do absolutely anything for them. I can't imagine my life without them.

They are my love song, the one I rewind the second it stops. The one I tweak every so often, adding new verses. The one I will never stop playing.