Blane’s gaze moved slowly down my body and back up. I stiffened when his eyes paused briefly at the gold locket I wore. Kade had given it to me for Christmas and it contained a tiny photo of my parents. I never took it off.

“You’re too thin,” he said roughly, thankfully not commenting on the locket. “And there’s hardly any food in your refrigerator.”

He’d gone through my refrigerator? My head felt like it was going to explode, I got so angry so fast.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I seethed. “You break into my apartment, refuse to leave, and now you’re snooping through my things?” My fists were clenched at my sides as I tried valiantly to keep calm, when all I really wanted to do was attack him until all the anger and pain and despair inside me went away.

I swear his face paled underneath his tan.

“I’m… sorry,” he said, and his voice was thick. He swallowed, his eyes locked on mine.

A little of my anger leached away at this, the first sign that he felt anything at all.

“I’m sorry for… a lot of things,” he continued. “And I’m not here expecting forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve that from you.” He paused. “But I can’t stop… caring… about you. Thinking about you. Wondering how you are, what you’re doing.”

These were words I’d wanted to hear for months, and a part of me was stunned at what he was saying, not ever having really expected it of him. But the other part of me, the part still encased in ice, was left… unmoved.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I finally replied with a small shrug. “You’re right—I can’t forgive you. Not right now. You said I’d betrayed you, when really it was you who betrayed me. You didn’t believe in me, in us.”

Blane was absolutely still as I spoke, his arms crossed tight over his chest, his gaze intently focused on mine, and I had the passing thought that maybe I wasn’t the only one barely holding myself together.

“Why are we having this conversation now?” I asked. “Because of Gage? Were you going to say these things to me without that threat?”

“I just thought… maybe… we could be friends,” he said.

I gaped at him in disbelief. “You’re not serious.” I laughed, and the sound was slightly hysterical even to my own ears.

Blane moved until he stood right in front of me and my laughter died a quick death. He reached for a lock of my damp hair, and this time I didn’t flinch.

“I drive by, all the time,” he said, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Just to see if you’re home. I’ve called so many times, only to hang up. I see you when I close my eyes at night. I smell your perfume at work and turn around, every time praying it’s you… but it never is.”

I studied his eyes and couldn’t deny that I dearly wanted to lean forward, let Blane wrap his arms around me, and forget the past three months had ever happened.

I’d be an utter fool to do that.

I cleared my throat. “That sounds real sweet,” I said quietly. “But we’re over, Blane. You about killed me, twice, and I’m not so stupid as to ever trust you again.”

His expression turned blank and he gave a curt nod. “I see. Then why all the booze, Kat?”

I stiffened at the nickname. He’d given up nickname privileges. “What are you talking about?”

“You never used to drink so much, at least not without cause. Why is there more vodka in your freezer than food? Why is it every time you’re at work, there’s a drink nearby?”

The blood left my face in a rush. “Were you spying on me?” It was hard to wrap my head around that.

“I’ve been around,” he said evasively. “But I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

“You’ve talked to other people about me?” Now the blood came rushing back, as did my anger. “You’ve sat around discussing me like I’m some sort of… of… pity case?” I tried to push past him, needing some space, but he grabbed me, his hands closing on my arm.

“Not other people,” he said. “Clarice. She’s worried about you. I am, too.”

“I’m fine,” I gritted out. “Get over yourself, Blane. I drink more now because it’s my choice. It has nothing to do with you.” That wasn’t precisely true, but the truth didn’t matter. I was humiliated that Clarice would talk to Blane about me. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“I’m not going away, Kat, whether you want me to or not. I’m not going to let Gage send someone to hurt you. And I’m not going to let you hurt yourself, either.”

My pride took a beating at that last part and I struggled not to let it show. “Fabulous. Get out.”

Blane’s jaw was clenched tight, our gazes locked together, but he released me and stepped away. I didn’t breathe properly until the door had shut behind him, then I sagged against the wall, letting it hold me up.

My instinct was to go next door and talk to Alisha, my friend and neighbor, but I knew she was out of the town for the weekend with her boyfriend, Lewis. My next thought was to reach for the vodka inside my freezer, but Blane’s words stilled my hand. Yes, I’d been drinking more lately, but if he hadn’t shown up out of the blue, I wouldn’t have drunk as much as I had last night. So really, it was his fault.

I sighed, pushing a hand through my damp hair. I really, really hated to admit that Blane had a point about anything, but he probably did about the alcohol. I’d been using it too much as a crutch these past few months. Apparently, so much so that Clarice had felt the need to tell Blane.

Shame and humiliation washed over me. Clarice and I were going to have a talk. She’d broken my trust, and no matter how well intentioned, that didn’t sit well with me.

And Blane had been spying on me in the bar? I remembered last night, when I’d felt as though someone was watching me. Had that been him? How long had he been outside, watching? Long enough to see me get propositioned for a threesome by those guys?

As if that event in itself hadn’t made me feel sleazy, suspecting Blane had seen the whole thing sealed the deal.

I pushed the thought aside. I couldn’t dwell on it or I’d wallow in self-pitying misery all day. I’d never kidded myself that Blane and I were of the same class, but I’d always had my dignity. Between Clarice insinuating to Blane that I was a drunken mess without him and the guys last night treating me like an easy hookup, my dignity lay in tatters at my feet.

I opened the refrigerator and peered inside. My stomach was tender, but I had to eat something. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to choose from. A nearly empty loaf of bread, the ends of which were moldy. A six-pack of beer with two bottles missing. A head of lettuce, its leaves limp and brown. Ketchup. Mayo. A half-empty bottle of soy sauce. Looked like a trip to the grocery store was in order.

I needed to check my tips from last night. My bank account was pretty low. Best to see what I’d made so I’d know how much I could spend at the store.

I’d dumped the crumpled pile of money on the table by my couch, not caring much at the time about what I’d made. The pile was now neatly stacked, but not very tall. I remembered the fifty bucks I’d made off the college guys. Bad propositions aside, that would certainly come in handy.

I sat cross-legged on the couch as I counted the money, being sure to sit on the thin blanket I’d spread over the cushions. Sweaty skin and leather did not mix.

When I came to the bottom of the handful of ones plus the fifty, I paused. A hundred-dollar bill was last in the stack. I frowned. I hadn’t cashed in my ones last night and I certainly would have remembered a hundred-dollar tip. Where had it—

Blane.

He must’ve counted the money while I’d been in the shower, adding in the hundred.

I stared at it, unsure how I felt. I sure didn’t like the charity, but then again I wasn’t in a position to be proud. The electric bill that I was behind on could really use that hundred dollars. Plus, Blane was already gone. How was I supposed to return it?

I hadn’t believed him when he’d said he wasn’t going away. After the argument we’d had, I doubted I’d see him again anytime soon, a thought that was immediately quashed when I went outside a short while later to find a glass company’s truck pulling out of the lot and Blane standing by my newly repaired car.

Déjà vu hit me hard as I remembered the first time Blane had fixed my car for me. It had felt so good then, for him to help me.

It felt quite different now.

“What are you doing, Blane?” I asked, walking up to my car. He turned toward me. “I told you I didn’t want you fixing it.”

“If Gage is behind this, then it’s an expense for the firm to absorb,” he said, eyeing me as though wary that I’d flip out on him again. He glanced at my clothes. I was wearing the same thing, had just slipped on a pair of flip-flops and my sunglasses. I’d pulled my hair back into a high ponytail. “Where are you going?”

“Weren’t you the one griping about the food in my refrigerator?” I retorted. “I’m going to the grocery store.” I stepped around him and climbed into my car. All the glass had been swept away and I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t glad it had been taken care of for me. I decided not to argue with him about it. It’s not like there was anything I could do now anyway. I thought about the hundred dollars but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to humiliate myself by arguing with him over the money, especially when I was in such need of it.

Blane slid into the passenger seat. “I’m going with you.”

“You’re what?” I stared at him.

“You’re not going anywhere unprotected,” he said, slamming the door shut.

Short of throwing a big-ass temper tantrum, I didn’t see any way I was going to get him out of my car, and I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he’d go even in the face of a tantrum.