“Thought I’d bring my guitar to the hospital and play some tunes for him or something.”

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” Rachel said, her mouth turned down in a frown. “But Kai here is the perfect person to visit Micah. He’s great company.”

She gave me a disarming smile and then waved as Sam said his good-byes.

In a rush of emotion, I placed my hands on her shoulders and leaned close to her ear. “Hey. Everything okay?”

She nodded. “I’m good.”

Dakota and Shane didn’t look like they believed her. They sat silently staring at her, Dakota swirling her straw in her drink and Shane’s eyes moving from my face to Rachel’s.

I took the seat next to Rachel as she gulped from her new margarita glass. “Whoa, lush. How many drinks is that?”

“Only my second,” she said. “But I could use a shot.”

Dakota’s mouth hung open as if she’d never seen her friend drink before. But maybe she was just concerned Rachel would get drunk, and then she’d bolt on us like she had the other night from Shane’s party.

“C’mon, you guys. Lighten up,” Rachel said to them. And then to me, “You got a cigarette?”

I cracked a smile. “You take up smoking all of a sudden?”

“I could use one right now,” she said, and then muttered, “Unless you’ve got something stronger.”

“This from the person who tried to make a deal with me to quit?” That got another smile out of her. “Nah, I’ve been trying to lay off.”

Her eyes beamed like the fucking sun or something, and I got lost in their orbit. “Oh yeah, you got something to prove?”

“Damn straight,” I said. “To a lot of people.”

It was my way of telling her that she’d had some influence over me, despite my needing to quit because of my parents’ threat about the casino drug policy. But truth be told, I hadn’t been this clear-headed in days. Maybe in months.

I caught Jimmy’s eye from behind the bar and motioned to him for a cancer stick. “Jimmy will hook you up.”

I walked over to the bar, ordered four shots, a Jack and Coke, and then grabbed the cigarette and lighter from him. I made two trips back to the table with our drinks, sat down, and picked up my shot glass. “Cheers.”

“To good friends,” Dakota said before gulping down her shot.

After I downed my drink I brought the cigarette to my lips, lighting it for Rachel. I noticed the way she stared at my lips, and I hoped she was thinking the same thing I was. About getting lost in each other later tonight.

And I also hoped we weren’t too obvious in front of my sister and my best friend. But when I looked up, I saw they were too busy making small talk across the table to notice.

Even though I’d warned Shane not to touch my sister with a ten-foot pole, I was feeling more and more fraudulent. Who the hell was I to dictate whom someone wanted to hook up with?

Still, the idea of my best friend and my sister together made me nauseous. Especially after I’d heard stories from him my whole life about the different girls he’d had and what he’d done with them. I mean, he was definitely a decent guy—the best, actually.

But I couldn’t stomach the idea of them hooking up, especially when someone was bound to come away with a broken heart. I shook away the thought of that exact same scenario going down between Rachel and me.

I handed her the lit cigarette, and our fingers brushed against one another briefly, sending a low-voltage current through me. She bought the cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply. Something about her putting her mouth right where mine had been made me horny as hell.

“So, what the hell did Miles say?” Dakota said, finally asking the question we all wanted answered.

“If he said something to hurt you or even worse—” I started to say, but Rachel shot me a scathing look to shut me up.

“I don’t need you taking up for me anymore, asshead,” she said in the tone I’d come to find affectionate over the years. “But thanks anyway.”

“Fine, Shelly.” I emphasized the word, and she rolled her eyes. “For fuck’s sake, just tell us what happened already.”

She deadpanned and then shook her head, a hint of amusement playing along her lips. “Geez, we just talked . . . about what happened after my accident.”

I bit my tongue and ground my feet into the floor. I was liable to run out of the building on an all-out manhunt and never hear her explanation.

The table fell silent, waiting. We’d always been open like this with one another, but Rachel seemed reserved today. Nervous, even. She had already shredded the napkin in front of her and was now working on mine, her lit cigarette wasting away in the ashtray.

Was it because of what we’d been doing behind closed doors or was it that the conversation between her and Miles had been too emotional? Too brutal? She’d certainly looked a bit decimated when she left his table. As had he.

I tried to give her some reassurance by finding her thigh beneath the table and brushing against it with my fingers, but that only caused her to blush and tense up. And it only made me want to yank her against me. That dress she was wearing pushed up her cleavage, and fuck if I hadn’t just laid my eyes on those tits the other night.

She stubbed out the cigarette after being halfway done and heaved a deep sigh.

“He told me he’d been thinking a long time about why he’d done that to me.”

“And?” Shane said now, as if trying to urge her on.

“He walked away from me because he felt guilty,” she said, almost hesitantly. “Tha . . . that it had been his fault for urging me to get on that damn bike, after all.”

She moved her lips to say something else and then clamped her mouth shut. Maybe we didn’t need to hear the raw and gritty details of what two people had confessed to each other after being in a relationship. Even if it had been three years ago and in high school. I certainly didn’t want to hear any specifics, unless she needed to share them.

Shane tried to hide his remorse as his gaze fled to his lap, and I shook my head. Before I could say what was on the tip of my tongue, Rachel piped up. “And, Shane, you need to cut that shit out.”

His head sprang up. “Huh?”

“You feel guilty because it was your motorcycle,” she said. “Always have.”

He stared at her for another beat before nodding.

“Look, it was my choice to go for a ride. Nobody else’s,” she said, and Dakota nodded, maybe in an effort to comfort Shane. “It could’ve been anybody’s bike.”

“True,” Dakota said, starting to reach out to Shane before thinking better of it. The poor dude had tension rolling off of him in waves.

So I made an effort to lighten the mood. “Yeah, so stop beating yourself up about it. If I catch you moping anymore, I’m going to have to kick your ass.”

He cracked a smile. “I’d like to see you try, brother.” It was true—Shane was several inches taller and probably had about fifty pounds on me.

“Soooo . . .” Dakota dragged out the phrase, probably hoping Rachel would continue on her own. “How are you feeling about all of that?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel said, and then ordered another drink from the server as she passed by our table. “I mean, I could tell he was being sincere.”

“Yeah?” Shane asked, looking over his shoulder as if he might see Miles somewhere in the casino.

“He said he had a hard time living with himself,” Rachel mumbled.

“He sure had a shitty way of showing it,” Shane said. “I mean, it took him long enough.”

“Yeah,” Rachel said. “But everyone deals with pain differently. Avery, my friend from college? She had some shit go down with her mom’s boyfriend when she was a teen and basically just shut everyone out of her life.”

Maybe she’d been closer with her college friends than she had let on. Or maybe she chose to share only what she wanted to.

“So what you’re saying is, you forgive him?” Dakota asked.

“I don’t know. I think I have to—so I don’t harbor this anger and sadness about him all the time.” She looked at her friend. “Don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do,” Dakota said before I could respond in the affirmative. “I mean, you’ve carried around all this baggage for the past three years, right?”

Rachel shrugged. “Yeah, mostly.”

“And you haven’t let any other guys get close,” Dakota said matter-of-factly.

I felt Rachel’s thigh tense up next to mine. Did she think she had let me get close? Or was she thinking of all of her past conquests?

“Did he say whether he wanted to see you again . . . or get back together?”

“Hell, no,” she said, steeling her jaw. “Besides, I wouldn’t want that anyway.”

“Really?” Dakota said, staring into her best friend’s eyes, searching for some measure of truth.

“He had someone with him,” Shane said, his words tentative, unsure of whether he was saying too much. “Some blond.”

“Right,” Rachel said. “He said she was his . . . friend and was there for moral support.”

I snorted and Shane smirked. “Wimp-ass.”

Dakota elbowed Shane. “I think that’s kind of sweet. It’s obviously been eating him up.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Rachel said. She was sounding mature about the whole thing. “But he’s still an asshat.”

Dakota grinned. “A jackass.”

“A total fuck stick,” Shane said, before downing his drink.

“A complete dickwad,” Rachel said, laughing. Now it felt more like old times, as the table erupted in laughter, everyone in stitches. My prim and proper sister actually called someone a jackass. Though with good reason.

Then Dakota reined in her laughter and leaned toward Rachel. “Do you . . . still have any feelings for him?”