My eyes meet Beckett’s for a fleeting second, the ice in his eyes surprising me before I turn to look at Colton. The features on his face are tight, and his dark hair has fallen over his forehead. The angst in his eyes is so incredibly raw. I study him as he glares at Beckett. His eyes flicker over to mine and whatever expression blankets my face holds his stare. I can see his pain and fear and uncertainty in them, and I realize that as much as his words sting—as much as they hurt me to hear—there is so much truth to them.

Max is dead and never coming back. Colton is here and very much alive, and he wants me in his life in some form or another despite his inability to acknowledge or accept it. I see the plea in his eyes for me to choose him, to accept him. Not my ghost of memories. Just him. All of him. Even the parts that are broken.

And the choice is so easy, I don’t even have to make one.

I step forward toward the eyes that flit frantically back and forth like a lost little boy. I glance over at Beckett and give him an unsure smile. “It’s okay, Becks. He’s right,” I whisper, turning back to Colton. “You’re right. I can’t keep expecting you to be like Max or compare you to what I had with him.” I take another timid step toward him.

“And I don’t want you to think that you have to be like Cassandra,” he says, taking me by surprise that his inference about my insecurity is spot-on. I reach out my hand to him, an olive branch to our argument, and he takes it, pulling me into him. I land against the firmness of his body as he gathers me to his chest, his strong arms wrapped around me a reassurance after the cruel and callous insults we’ve just hurled at each other. I press my face into his neck, the beat of his pulse beneath my lips. He runs a hand up my back, tunneling it into my curls and just holds my head there. He kisses the top of my hair as I breathe in his scent.

“You. This,” he murmurs in a ragged exhale, “it scares the shit out of me.” And my heart stops and breath catches as he falls silent, his pounding heartbeat the soundtrack to my thoughts. “I don’t know how to…I don’t know what to do…”

And if I hadn’t already known, the raw emotion in his voice would have pushed me over the edge. My heart starts again, tumbles inside of me, and falls gloriously. I only hope he’ll catch it. I fist my hand into the back of his shirt, his confession rocking me with hope and possibility. Offering us a chance. I close my eyes, taking a minute to score my memory with this moment. “Me too, Colton,” I murmur into the skin of his neck. “I’m scared too.”

“You deserve so much more that I’m capable of giving you. I don’t know how or what to do to give you what you need. I just…”

I grip my fist tighter into his shirt, the fear so transparent in his tone it wrenches my heart and tugs at my soul. “That’s okay, baby,” I tell him, pressing another kiss against his neck. “We don’t have to know all the answers right now.”

“This is just…” He chokes on his words, his arms tightening around me as the sounds of Vegas swirl in the air around us. In this city of rampant sin and immorality, I have found such beauty and hope in the man holding me tight. “…so much…I don’t know how…”

“We don’t have to rush this. We can just take our time and see where this leads us.” Desperation laces through my words.

“I don’t want to give you false hope if I can’t…” He shakes his head softly with an exhale to finish his statement.

I lean back and look up at the face of the man that I know has captured my heart. The heart I thought would never heal or love again. “Just try, Colton,” I plead. “Please just tell me you’ll try…”

Emotions war over Colton’s features, his resistance to need. So much unspoken swims in his eyes. He leans down and brushes a soft, reverent sigh of a kiss on my lips before burying his face in the crook of my neck and just holds on.

I hold him there in the depths of a concrete garage. Giving as much as I am taking from the man consuming every part of me.

And it’s not lost on me that he never answered my question.


The horizon is just starting to lighten to the east as we drag ourselves off of the plane and climb into the awaiting limo in Santa Monica. We are all exhausted from the whirlwind night.

I glance over at Colton’s profile as we wait for Sammy to finish whatever he’s doing. His head is leaning back against the headrest and his eyes are closed. My eyes track over the silhouette of his nose to his chin, down his neck and over his Adam’s apple. My heart swells at the sight of him and what he’s come to mean to me in such a short amount of time. He’s helping me overcome some of my fears, and I can only hope in time he will trust me enough to let me in on his.

Beckett was right about Colton. He evokes such extreme emotions. He’s easy to love and hate at the same time. Tonight was a breakthrough of sorts—for him to admit that I scare him—but I know in no way shape or form does that mean he’s in love with me. Or that he’s not going to hurt me in the end.

His lack of an answer tells me that his words and his heart are still in conflict. And that he’s not sure if he can get them on the same page. He wants to. I can see it in his eyes, his posture, and the tenderness in his kiss.

But I also see the fear, sense the trepidation and inability to trust that I won’t abandon him. That to love is not to give up control.

It seems like every time he gets too close, he wants to push me further away. Holding me at arms length keeps his fears at bay for a bit. Helps him push them down. Well, what if I just don’t cower at the comments? Worry about his silent distance? What if instead of letting it get to me, I just shrug it off and keep going like nothing’s been said? What will he do then?

Colton shifts his head over and looks at me with a softness in his eyes that makes me want to curl into him. How could I ever walk away from this face? Nothing short of him cheating on me would make me give up on him. He looks sleepy and content and still a bit buzzed.

Haddie hums the song that is playing softly on the speakers in the car. I strain to hear and meet her eyes when I recognize it as Glitter in the Air. Of all the songs to be on, of course it has to be this one.

“Fuckin’ Pink,” Colton snorts out in a sexy, sleepy voice that widens my smile.

Haddie laughs sluggishly in the seat across from us. “I could sleep for hours,” she says resting her head on Beckett’s shoulder.

“Mmm-hmm,” Colton murmurs, shifting so he lies across the seat and places his head in my lap, “and I’m going to start now.” He chuckles.

“You need all the beauty sleep you can get.”

“Fuck you, Becks.” Colton yawns. His voice is slurred from the mixture of both alcohol and exhaustion. “Should we finish what we started earlier?” He laughs softly as he tries to open his eyes. He is so exhausted they only open a fraction.

Beckett bellows out a laugh that resonates in the quiet of the car. “It’d be no contest. Us southern boys know how to throw a punch.”

“You’ve got nothing on some of the fists that have been thrown my way.” Colton nuzzles the back of his head into my abdomen.

“Really? Being bitch-slapped by a girl pissed off at finding out she’s a one-nighter doesn’t count,” Beckett replies, meeting my eyes and shaking his head to tell me that he’s making it up just to goad Colton. I have a feeling he might be lying.

“Mmm-hmm,” Colton murmurs and then falls silent. We all assume that he’s asleep, his breathing evening out, when he speaks again in an almost juvenile, dreamlike quality. “Try having your mom taking a bat to you…” he breathes “…or snapping your bone right through your fucking arm.” He grunts. My eyes whip up to Beckett’s, the same look of surprise I feel reflected in his. “Now that? That beats the one fucking punch I’d let you land before I knock you on your ass.” He emits a sliver of a laugh. “It most definitely beats your fist any day, you cocksucker,” he repeats before a soft snore slips from him.

My mind immediately flashes to the jagged scar on his arm—the one that I’d noticed last week. Now I know why he had changed the subject when I’d asked about it. I think of a little boy cowering in fear, green eyes welled with tears as his mother unleashes on him. The ache in my heart that moments before was because of my feelings for Colton has now shifted and intensified over something I can’t even begin to understand or fathom.

The look on Beckett’s face tells me that this is news to him. That even though he’s known Colton for all these years, he hasn’t had an inkling as to the horror his friend had endured as a young child.

“Like I said,” Beckett whispers, “Lifeline.” My eyes snap up to his and he just nods with a quiet intensity. “I think you’re his lifeline.” We exchange a silent acknowledgment and acceptance before looking back down at the man we love snoring softly in my lap.



The house is quiet and still despite the bright sun shining through the kitchen windows. It’s close to noon but everyone is still asleep except for me. I’d awoken, hot and claustrophobic, with a dead to the world Colton haphazardly draped across my body. As delicious as his body felt against mine, and as much as I willed myself to go back to sleep, I couldn’t. So despite Colton lying on the pillow beside me, I slowly extricated myself from him and the bed without waking him in search of Advil for my aching head.