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So, I know I’ve hurt him deeply.

“Shit,” I whisper.

I messed up, and not even just with that conversation, but by going to Dylan’s house in the first place. Hudson was right—I could have talked to him, could have worked with him to come up with a plan to get my photo back. He would have been right by my side if I insisted.

But I shouldn’t have insisted.

Because it’s exactly what I thought during those first terrifying moments that Dylan stalked me in his office—my dad loved me, my dad protected people for a living, put himself between them and danger, and…

He wouldn’t have wanted me to risk myself for a piece of paper.

No matter how important it is to my heart.

I was dumb.

Reckless.

And…now I owe the man I love an apology.

Even as I’m thinking that, I’m already climbing the stairs, moving to the bedroom that Hudson and I share, seeing the door to the bathroom securely closed, hearing the water running on the other side.

I hesitate, but only for a heartbeat.

Because this is so much more important than a photograph.

I cross the room, turn the handle—relief flowing through me when I find the door unlocked—and push into the bathroom.

He’s there, naked and beautiful…and sad, hands braced against the wall, head hanging, shoulders hunched.

Fuck.

I close my eyes for a second, allow the guilt to ripple through me.

I deserve that.

Then I tuck it away.

Because I’m going to make this better. For both of us.

Quietly, I shut the door then strip off my clothes, slowly tugging the plate glass panel open and slipping into the shower behind Hudson.

I know he likely feels the gust of cool air, but he doesn’t turn around.

I don’t let that dissuade me, just step forward, glad of the waterproof bandage secured over my eyebrow when the water splatters over my face and hair and shoulders. He stiffens when I wrap my arms around his middle, but I don’t let that dissuade me either.

Instead, I hug him tightly, pressing my cheek against his back.

Holding the strength of him close.

Giving him some of my own.

“It’s not just about what happened today,” I murmur, knowing he can hear me when he goes even more stiff. “It’s about Colt too.” I wait and when he doesn’t speak, I go on, “I should have told you what I was thinking. Same as he should have talked to you about taking another tour.”

His lungs inflate on a shaky breath.

“I don’t know Colt’s reasons for keeping that from you, and I hate that you bear the scars of his loss, that those scars are so deep they’ll never fully heal.”

“Princess—”