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My breath starts to come out in short, shaky bursts. I’ve never had a reaction like this, not one that’s so physical and all-consuming to the point I can’t control my body. I’m trying to breathe, trying not to cry, and the next thing I feel is Logan’s hands cradling my face. He gently tilts my face to meet his eyes and runs a thumb over my cheek, bringing attention to the tears that are falling.

“Baby,” he coos. “Are you okay?”

Baby?

Baby.

The word hits me like a lifeline and drags me back to him, to safety.

I meet his gaze—concern etched in every inch of his face—and I hate that I’ve scared him. But I need him. Throwing my arms around him, I grip him to me as tightly as possible, pressing myself into his chest to breathe him in. “No, take me home.”

16

LOGAN

I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate Kyle.

He’s somehow conned his way into a position of trust and power, and the second those smug words left his mouth—‘we’ll see’—I wanted to put him through the fucking wall, but Ryder needed me more.

The look on his face after Kyle whispered in Ryder’s ear made my vision go red, especially because Ryder’s been right all along. The law isn’t here to protect us—at least, not with this. Not when your stalker is the one ‘investigating’ your case. He’ll always be believed over us; it’s just the reality of our situation.

We’d need irrefutable evidence—something they can’t ignore, spin, or excuse.

But right now, I need to focus on getting him in the car. He’s gripping my hand like it’s the only tether keeping him from completely falling apart.

We don’t speak on the drive back to my apartment, but once we get inside, he collapses on the couch and clutches a throw pillow to his chest. The sight destroys me. The fact thatKyle has managed to make Ry feel unsafe in his own home and in every area of his life makes me furious. I want to fix it for him and take all the weight off his shoulders, but I know there’s nothing I can do to erase what’s already been done other than be there for him.

I miss the carefree, messy, slightly chaotic, always-late version of my best friend whose smile lit up everything around him. But even like this, I love him just as much. Maybe even more because I love how comfortable he is being so vulnerable with me.

Grabbing a bottle of water and making him a plate of food, I head back into the living room.

“Here,” I say, holding the bottle out.

He blinks like I’ve pulled him from a nightmare. Slowly, he reaches out and takes it, murmuring a soft, “Thanks.”

I sit next to him, close enough that our thighs brush. Hoping he can feel me there and that it’s grounding.

“You know,” I start, keeping my voice light and going for a hint of humor since that’s our best form of communication. “If this guy thinks he knows you better than I do, he’s seriously delusional.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I know your coffee order. Your favorite takeout. What you’ll get at pretty much every restaurant in town. I know your go-to drink, the exact way you fold your towels, and how to get you to stop snoring. I’ve survived years of your relentless teasing and chronic lateness, and even accepted your completely unhinged opinion that beans are not a crime against humanity.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“They’re gross, Ry. Refried beans, especially. They’re like a plate of brown mush. You have to admit that.”

And then finally, a genuine smile takes over his face, and he laughs at my extreme distaste for beans. It’s the best thing I’ve seen in days. Even if it’s quick, it feels like a goddamn victory.

“Guess that does make you an expert,” he says. “And beans are good.”

“Damn right it does,” I say, nudging his knee with mine. “And since we’re having a bad day, I’ll ignore the second part. But me knowing you so well is how I know we’ll figure this out, because no one, and I mean no one, knows you better than me.”

His eyes lift to mine, and something flickers there. Guilt, maybe. I don’t know.

“I hate that you’re caught up in this because of me,” he says quietly.

“Don’t do that,” I say, cutting him off before he can spiral. “We’re in this together. End of story. I love you and there’s nothing else I’d rather do than be here by your side, no matter what happens.”