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“Please, Allye. Let me keep you safe.”

She turned her back to him and braced her hands on the countertop, tilting her head to stare at the ceiling. Finally, she released a sigh and glanced at him over her shoulder. “Okay.”

AFTER ERIC RIGHTED HER COFFEE TABLEand she’d swept up the broken glass, they settled into the living room—him on the couch and her in the recliner. She thought about starting a movie, but if they were going to spend hours together, she might as well get some answers first.

“I want to know something.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you get so angry at me yesterday?”

His gaze dropped to the fresh cup of coffee she’d insisted on pouring for him. “I shouldn’t have. It was totally uncalled for.”

She agreed, but—“That’s not what I asked.” She wished he would look at her.

“You scared me.”

She’d figured that much. When he didn’t elaborate, she sighed. Looked like she was going to have to drag it out of him. She tapped a nail against the side of her teacup. “How?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he looked like he was debating whether to share. She waited. She knew his apology had been sincere, but she needed to get to the root of why he’d blown up in the first place. If he wasn’t willing to do that—to be honest with himself and her—she wouldn’t be able to trust him with more than a surface friendship.

Finally, his expression changed. He’d come to a decision. When he spoke, his tone was clinical. “My dad died when I was fourteen. Overdose. I found him in his favorite chair. Thought he was passed out.”

Allye’s chest ached. “But he was . . .”

“Dead.” Eric finally met her gaze. The pain shimmering in his eyes didn’t match his detached narration. “He played around one too many times, and it took him.” His fingers flexed. “Mom said he died doing what he loved.”

Allye couldn’t stop her gasp.

He gave her a weak smile. “Yeah. She was high when she gave his eulogy.” He pursed his lips. “But she wasn’t lying.”

“Oh, Eric. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who overreacted.I’msorry.” He took a deep breath. “I saw you lying there unresponsive, and I thought whoever’s been breaking into your house may have hurt you. Then when I found the pills before I had time to wrap my brain around the fact you were fine...” He shook his head. “I didn’t realize until long after I drove off that it wasmore a PTSD reaction than a logical one.” He stared across the room at the darkened TV.

Time stretched like the space between them. Eventually, Allye couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed her teacup and moved to the couch, leaving a little room between them. But not too much.

“Tell me about that day.”

His jaw tightened. Would he clam up? Or would he risk letting her in? Seconds ticked by. Just as she was about to give up hope, he drew in a sharp breath and started talking.

“He’d promised he was clean, that he was going to make up for lost time. We were supposed to head to the gym that morning, get a membership, and start a workout routine. Together.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Apparently, he decided he needed one last hit first.”

Allye couldn’t help herself. She slipped her hand over his and felt relief when he intertwined his fingers with hers. “Where was your mom?”

“Jail.” No mistaking his disgust. “Minor charge. She was out in time for the funeral, but my grandpa took me in. Told my mom to get her act together or he’d sue for permanent custody.”

She was almost afraid to ask, but she did anyway. “Did she?”

“Only around tax time.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Gramps told her to take a hike.”

“Where is she now?”

“No idea.”