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“Normally I would object to that, but right now that’s probably wise.”

Inside, the air conditioning hits us, and Keegan shudders against it as she kicks off her sandals, leaving them where they fall. That’s not something she’s ever done. She is meticulous and tidy to an extreme.

“I’m on vacation,” she explains when she notes my expression. “And a mission.”

“So you are.” I smile despite the burning in my gut as we open the gate and head upstairs. “Though I imagine your definition of vacation doesn’t typically include direct threats and ex-boyfriend drama.”

The lightness drops from her expression for a moment. “Not usually. I’m the good Fritz, remember?”

“Now you know why I didn’t want to scandalize you.”

She takes my hand in the hall and drags me toward her bedroom. Most of my stuff is still in mine, though I’ve been sleeping here for the last week or so. Keegan starts to tear at fabric, ripping her top over her head and yanking off her wet shorts. It’s a sight that makes my blood and cock heat regardless of the circumstances, but now isn’t the time to bury myself inside her as I had initially planned when I went out to find her.

I busy myself with pouring two glasses of water and take them to the balcony, arranging the lounge chairs to face the beginning of the sunset. The ocean stretches before me, a canvas of blues and golds in the late afternoon light. A few boats dot the horizon, tiny white specks against the enormity of water and sky, and I can’t help but squint at them, wondering if it’s press.

I miss our bubble. I miss those ten days when it was just us and it was perfect and safe.

Keegan emerges in loose, white linen pants and a thin sweater that slips off one shoulder. Her hair is pulled into a messy knot on top of her head, exposing the constellation of freckles across her shoulders that I’ve memorized with my lips. I’m not ready for this to end. I’m feeling petulant and angry about it, and whoever this twat is that’s messing with it, messing with my girl, he’ll suffer.

“Ready for this?” she asks, taking the water from my hand, our fingers brushing in the exchange. A small jolt passes between us I never tire of and never will. Keegan is mine now. Mine to love and mine to protect, and I shall.

“Not really, no,” I answer truthfully, forcing a smile but knowing it doesn’t reach my eyes. “But let’s get it over with.”

Keegan pulls her phone from her pocket and dials, putting it on speaker as we settle into the chairs. The ring echoes in the open air three times before Vander’s voice breaks through.

“Ah, lovely Keegs. Just the redhead I wanted to talk to. I’m glad you called. Is Loomis with you? I was going to call him tonight.”

“He’s here,” she replies. “But we have some things we really need to tell you. A lot’s happened.”

“I’ll say, but you go first.”

“I had an interesting call with Alden.”

Keegan proceeds to explain her conversation with Alden, holding my hand as she does, still reassuring me that it’s me and not him for her.

“Did he say what kind of information?” Vander’s voice is sharp, but we hear him clicking around on a keyboard in the background.

“Nothing too specific other than he knows our relationship is—was—fake. That it was arranged to help Loomis look good for the custody case with Fen. He mentioned video.”

“But you didn’t tell Alden it was fake, did you?” I ask her.

Keegan shakes her head. “No. He asked, and I told him that what we have is very real and that we love each other. I didn’t confirm nor deny how it began.”

“So our mystery man knows something he shouldn’t,” Vander muses. “Or he’s bluffing and Alden is playing a game.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“He’s not,” Keegan protests.

“Regardless, I’d like to make sure,” I admit and throw Keegan a side-eye. She doesn’t react either way.

“I don’t know Alden all that well,” Vander continues. “I could be wrong and will naturally look into it regardless, but he showed up after you fell. Still, he was pissed about you and Loomis, right?”

“Yes, but he wasn’t today, Van. He said he wanted me to be happy and that he was worried about me. I’ve known Alden my whole life. He’s a good man and wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone.”

“Then I’ll find nothing when I look into him. If it’s a burner phone, tracing its owner is very difficult, but I can search Alden’s records, and when this person calls him again, I can triangulate where the call is coming from, so that could tell us something. Maybe,” he tacks on. “Regardless, Alden should play along and possibly meet up with him.”

“So no way to know who it is?”