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  I stared at him as he stood before my desk and when he stopped talking, I asked, “Do you do this to Ty-Ty?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Not let her get a word in edgewise,” I answered, and he burst out laughing.

  I waited patiently for him to stop, thinking not for the first time that Tyra was lucky. Tack laughed deep and rich, it came from the gut and he looked good doing it. He also did it a lot.

  When Tack stopped laughing, he looked back at me and replied simply, “Yes.” I opened my mouth to say something and again failed in this endeavor. “Though, only when it’s important and she’s bein’ a pain in my ass.”

  “Are you inferring I’m a pain in your ass?” I enquired.

  “Nope,” he shook his head, grinning. “But, you give me lip on this, I won’t infer it. I’ll just say it straight out.”

  “Tack—”

  “Go on the date, Lanie.”

  “Tack!” I snapped and he bent over my desk, putting his hand on it and pinning me again with his blue eyes.

  “Do it for Tyra,” he said softly and I shut my mouth.

  How the heck was I going to get out of this?

  “She’s worried,” Tack went on. “Heal yourself, help my woman stop worrying. Go on the date.”

  I closed my eyes then opened them and nodded.

  I mean, what else could I do?

  Tack smiled.

  Damn.

  “Good, glad we had this talk,” he declared. “And Red’s gonna be glad you’re takin’ a shot at life again and I hope, it works out or it doesn’t but it whets your appetite to have back what you’re missin’, you’ll be glad.”

  It really stunk that he was such a good guy and he was here doing this for me and I couldn’t tell him this was all unnecessary and they could stop worrying.

  “Okay well, thanks again, Tack,” I said.

  He straightened away from my desk. “Go home. Do somethin’ fun. Whatever. Just get the fuck out of here,” he ordered, throwing out an arm to indicate my office.

  “I was just leaving,” I informed him and got another grin before he moved to my door.

  He stopped in it and turned back.

  I should have lifted up my mental shield and braced.

  I didn’t.

  So when he shot his arrows, they tore straight through my flesh.

  “Don’t regret what you did. Don’t regret the decisions you made. You did right. You followed your heart and that is never wrong, darlin’. But shit went down and it was extreme. That’s over, Lanie. Long over. Move on.”

  I didn’t do right.

  He knew that. I knew that. Tyra knew it.

  He was just being nice.

  Forgiveness is beautiful and it feels good when someone gives that gift to you.

  But it’s one thing for someone you wronged to forgive you.

  It was another to forgive yourself.

  Too much was lost. Rivers of it. Rivers of Ty-Ty’s blood on the floor of a house I’d never been to and she’d only been there once. That blood flowed because of me.

  It could have meant we lost everything, Tack and me.

  But, the way he loved her, mostly Tack.

  He forgave me.

  I just didn’t forgive myself.

  I didn’t tell him any of this.

  I just said, “Okay.”

  He nodded. “Okay, darlin’. Have a good night.”

  “You too. Tell Ty-Ty I said hi.”

  “Will do. Later.”

  “Later, Tack.”

  He lifted a hand to flick it out and then I watched him walk out of my office, thinking yet again my best friend was very lucky.

  Then again, so was Tack.

  I looked at the clock on my computer and realized to be in time for pizza, I wasn’t going to be able to get home and change.

  I shut it down, pulled out my phone and called Hop to tell him I might be a bit late.

  Then I got out of my office to live my life.

  * * *

  I heard a Harley. Lying on my couch, reading and drinking a glass of wine after a fun dinner with Hop and his kids, conditioned to that roar meaning good things, I listened absentmindedly but contentedly thinking about that night’s dinner.

  I thought about how Molly’s exuberance was catching. About how nice it felt when a little girl told you she liked your outfit. About how Cody might not look like his dad but he acted exactly like him. About how Hop deftly negotiated Molly’s severe dislike for all things sausage, “The juice leaks across the side, Dad!”, and Cody’s demand that we get a meat lover’s since, “Pizza doesn’t matter if it don’t got meat,” by buying two Beau Joe’s pizzas and muttering, “Leftovers for a week.”

  He was not wrong, though he was understating it. One Beau Joe’s pizza could feed half a battalion.

  So that Harley roar outside not only reminded me of all good things Hop and a great night with his kids that, after it was over, I knew I had nothing to be nervous about, but it made me smile.

  I kept listening, not absentmindedly, when the roar stopped at the back of my house.

  I aimed my eyes over my couch to the sliding glass doors and was shocked to see Hopper’s tall body materialize through the dark there.

  “Open up, babe,” he called through the glass, and I set my Kindle aside and got up, quickly moving to the door, unlocking and opening it.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, shifting back as he slid through and shut the door. “Where are the kids? Is everything all right?”

  He turned to me. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  Great.

  I’d had this beginning conversational gambit once already from a biker that night when Tack visited me, and from the look of concern and inquisitiveness on Hop’s face, I was thinking I wouldn’t like this one much better.

  “What are you talking about and where are the kids?” I asked.

  “Kids are asleep and Sheila’s with ’em. You showed at dinner, still wearin’ your work gear, acting funny, not meeting my eyes so I called her, she came over, I hopped on my bike and hauled my ass over here. What’s up?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t tell you over the phone,” I explained. “You didn’t have to drag Sheila over to your house.”

  “You don’t meet my eyes during dinner, it’s somethin’ that you don’t get into over the phone. Now, Lanie, one more time. What’s up?”

  Usually, I rejoiced that Hop was a man who paid attention. This meant he did things and said things and, it’s important to repeat, did things, good things, because he paid attention.

  Sometimes, like now, it was annoying.

  I decided this discussion would go better with wine so I walked to my wineglass.

  Once I’d grabbed it and taken a sip, I looked back at Hop to see he hadn’t moved except to cross his arms on his chest.

  Leather jackets, especially beat up, black biker ones with a patch on the back, were not my thing when it came to guys.

  Hopper worked that cut like no other.

  “Lanie,” he prompted, his voice a warning low and I stopped appreciating Hop in his cut.

  “Tack talked to Mitch and Brock. They’re setting me up on a date with a cop,” I announced.

  I did this because I thought it best just to get it out there and over with.

  Anyway, it was no big deal. Hop had to know I was into him. We both knew we were working on something important. I’d just had dinner with him and his kids so that was plain.

  Therefore, I’d decided on my way to Beau Joe’s just to go on the date then explain to the guy, Tack, and Tyra that we didn’t click, and I’d explain my plan beforehand to Hop (but not during dinner with his kids) so he wouldn’t worry. This meant I’d do my duty to Ty-Ty and Tack then I’d start doing other things that made them quit worrying about me. Like take a creative writing class with the explanation I might meet someone there when I had no intention of doing that. And, anyway, a creative writing class would be fun and I’d always w
anted to do it.

  Whatever. Bottom line: in the end, all would be well.

  Looking at Hop, I realized he would not be at one with my plan.

  “Come again?” he asked, and his tone was scary.

  I threw out my hand with the wineglass in it, thankful it was low so the wine didn’t slosh out. “They’re worried I’m not healing, moving on appropriately after Elliott, burying myself in work, so they’re setting me up.”

  “They’re setting you up,” he repeated, his voice still scary.

  “Hop, it isn’t a big deal,” I told him and watched his head jerk.

  “Are you going?” Now he didn’t sound scary. He sounded disbelieving and more than a little bit angry.

  “It isn’t a big deal. I’ll go and, after, explain I wasn’t attracted to him. They’ll think I’m moving on and all will be good.”

  “You’ll go,” Hop stated.

  “Just one date,” I assured him.

  “Just one date,” Hop again repeated after me.

  “Hop—”

  I stopped abruptly when he leaned into me and roared, “Are you outta your fuckin’ mind?”

  Yes, definitely not at one with my plan.

  I lifted both hands placatingly and started, “Hop—”

  He took two steps toward me, his body shuddered to a halt like he was controlling his movements, but just barely and he clipped, “Tell me exactly what went down.”

  I held his eyes and explained exactly what went down.

  Hop held mine when I was done and asked, “And your solution to this problem is to go out with this fuckin’ guy?”

  “It’s the easiest solution I can think of.” I told him something I thought was obvious.

  “I don’t know, Lanie. I can think of an easier one,” he retorted, and his sarcasm wasn’t lost on me.

  “Hop, honestly, you don’t—”

  He interrupted me, “You wanna know my solution?”

  I figured I knew it, I didn’t want him to verbalize it, but I nodded anyway.

  “Maybe, I don’t know, but it might be easier, babe, just to fuckin’ tell them you got a life and that life is movin’ on with me.” He planted his hands on his hips. “Fuck, I don’t even know why you didn’t tell Tack that shit straight out when he proposed that ludicrous fuckin’ idea.”

  As he spoke, his mood deteriorated. This was reflected in the way he rapped out his words.

  But at his words my lungs seized, so I had to force out my cry of, “We can’t do that!”

  He threw his hands up in the air. “Why the fuck not?”

  I knew he was ticked. I knew why he was ticked.

  But something was happening. Something I was trying to ignore. Something that was building inside me so huge it was impossible to ignore.

  Panic.

  Sheer, unadulterated panic.

  “We can’t do that,” I repeated.

  “And why the fuck not, Lanie?”

  “We just can’t,” I told him.

  “Are you shitting me?” he asked.

  “No, I’m not,” I answered, that feeling growing, eating away huge, gluttonous bites of me.

  Hop studied me a moment, his expression shifting, and he was talking quieter when he asked, “Ever?”

  “Ever what?” I asked back.

  “You don’t wanna tell them now. Are you ever gonna wanna tell them?”

  Oh God.

  How could I be standing there at the same time being eaten alive?

  “Lanie?” Hop called but I just stood immobile, losing entire chunks of me to my monster. “Lanie!” Hop clipped, before he strode toward me, pulled the glass out of my hand, set it aside and wrapped his fingers around my upper arms. “Jesus, babe, what the fuck?”

  “No, not ever. We can’t ever tell them about us,” I whispered, staring into his eyes.

  He moved his hands to either side of my head and dipped his face close.

  His eyes roamed my features before he murmured, “It’s got you. Fuck, Jesus, I’m standin’ here watchin’ that monster tear you apart.”

  “We can’t tell them,” I stated.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “We can’t ever tell them,” I declared, my voice getting loud.

  “Why, baby?” he asked, his voice going gentle.

  “I don’t want them to know,” I told him.

  “Why don’t you want them to know, honey?” he pushed.

  “They can’t know.”

  “Lanie, get this shit out.”

  I stared into his eyes, feeling his warm hands on either side of my head, his body close. and the monster shoved its arm down my throat and dredged up, “She told me.”

  “Keep goin’,” Hop encouraged.

  “To break it off with him.”

  Hop closed his eyes.

  “I didn’t.”

  Hop opened his eyes.

  “Tyra told me to break it off with Elliott after we got kidnapped by the Russian Mob that first time.”

  “Okay, Lanie, baby, that’s good, it’s enough. Shut this shit down now.”

  I didn’t shut it down. The monster was dragging it out.

  “I didn’t listen. I told her through better or worse.”

  “Fuck,” he murmured, shifting so he could curl me in his arms.

  I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my cheek into his shoulder.

  “It got worse,” I whispered.

  Hop didn’t answer. He just stood there holding me tight.

  I held him back the same way.

  After this went on for a while, Hop gave me a squeeze and asked, “You with me?”

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  “Breakin’ that shit down and, lady, stop me if I got this wrong, but you made a decision about your man, it got your girl hurt and you’re carryin’ that shit around, transferrin’ it on your new man.”

  I hadn’t thought about it that way. In fact, I hadn’t thought about it at all.

  “Maybe,” I told his shoulder.

  “You wanna end this?” he asked.

  “End what?”

  “End us.”

  I felt my entire body wind so tight, I feared it would snap, hurtling me across the room like a broken rubber band. I pulled my head back to look at him.

  “Do you?” My voice trembled on those two words.

  “Fuck no,” he replied instantly and I felt my brow furrow.

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “Because, babe, neither of us wants to end this, she’s your girl, Tack’s my brother. How the fuck are we gonna go on hidin’ what we have from them?”

  He had a point.

  “We have to.”

  My mouth said it before my brain caught up and I watched his head jerk to the side.

  “Lady—”

  “For a while,” I finished and he stared at me.

  “You wanna know it’s solid,” he guessed.

  “I want this monster out of me,” I confessed, pressing closer. “I want… I wanna be able to face them both and know. Know I believe. Know I’m right this time. After what happened last time, how bad it was, how we nearly lost Ty-Ty, I have to know this time. It has to be solid. For you. For me. So Tyra can believe.”

  His face changed, unease washing through his expression and he told me, “You were right the last time, baby. He did wrong but you did right.”

  I shook my head and Hop watched me do it.

  Hop let me go, shifted us both into the couch, tucking me tight to his side. I lifted up my legs and curled them on the couch beside me as I snaked an arm across his stomach and pressed my forehead into his neck.

  “For a while, babe, we’ll keep this between you and me,” he gave in. “But you gotta remember that I’m easin’ you into my kids’ lives and I’m not gonna ask them to lie. Kids say shit and they are not strangers to Chaos. You also gotta be aware that High picked me up here so he knows and I asked him not to talk but I am not gonna get in his face if he does. So if you keep this from your girl, you
’re walkin’ a tightrope, baby, and the longer this carries on, if she finds out before we share, the more you’re gonna have to explain.”

  I nodded.

  I’d worry about that later.

  A lot later.

  “Right,” he muttered and I pressed closer.

  We fell silent and neither of us broke it for a good long while.

  Finally, Hop did.

  “Don’t know who won this one, the monster or us,” he mused.

  I didn’t either.

  I just knew it was an entirely different experience, battling that monster with Hop at my back.

  “You sensed something was up, called Sheila to stay with the kids and drove all the way here to talk with me,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah,” he agreed and I lifted up to look at him.

  “That monster always bests me, honey, but I’m thinking you did great.”

  Another expression washed through his features, this one better. Surprise and satisfaction.

  I got to enjoy it for half a second before he kissed me.

  When he broke the kiss, I noted, “I hate to bring this up but we have to figure out what to do about this set up.”

  “Don’t worry about it, I’ll deal with it.”

  I stared at him. “How are you going to deal with it?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  After Hopper Kincaid said those four words, there was one thing I knew with a surety that was astonishing.

  He would.

  One way or another, Hop would think of something and make my troubles go away.

  I liked this so much, to communicate just how much, I pressed my forehead back into his neck and burrowed close.

  Letting go of that scene, a thought came to me.

  “So, uh… I’m taking it from this conversation that you want us to be exclusive?” I asked and felt his body tense before it shook slightly with laughter.

  “Uh, yeah, babe. I want us to be exclusive,” he confirmed, his words also shaking with laughter.

  Good to know.

  No. Great to know.

  I burrowed closer before I told him, “If we’re exclusive, you should know, I have the birth control thing covered.”

  There was no laughter in his voice. He sounded surprised when he asked, “You good with me ungloved?”