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I wince. I forgot his helmets have a built-in Bluetooth microphone and speaker system. “Sorry. And to answer your question, Dayton just wants me to fulfill my biggest potential.”

“He’s just cozying up to you because of your last name. The Holdens are social climbers. You can do better, Lexy.”

“What do you have against him?” Acid rushes up my throat as indignation chars my insides. The odd thing is, I don’t even think I’m mad at Liam for his words about Dayton. It’s the comment about people getting close to me because I’m a Vaughn. Like I have nothing else to offer.

Dayton and I have our issues, but he’s a nice guy. We made sense when he was at Broadbent. Captain of the football team with the Vaughn princess. He is fun, charming, and the life of the party wherever he shows up. People flock to him, and I wasn’t immune when we met.

People can grow apart. Maybe college is really busy for him.

“I don’t like him. There’s something off about him. I can’t place it, but call it intuition.”

“Well, lucky for you, you aren’t dating him. You’re not my keeper, you know.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I think of him again. Mystery guy with the beautiful penmanship who seems to understand me even though we’ve never met.

Liam snorts. “Someone’s gotta look out for you. God knows Charles is too busy to do it, so the responsibility falls on me.”

“Charles is taking on the family business because you don’t want to do it. It’s rough being in the spotlight and you know he cares about us.”

But my oldest brother spends most of his time in the office or at The Orchid—the famous establishment for the rich and famous I keephearing about. And of course, both Liam and Charles say I can’t visit The Orchid until I’m “older” because there are a few floors for sexy activities.

But Charles carves out time for us. Not a lot of time, but enough for dinners during the holidays, taking me to watch ballet at the Met Opera, and Liam goes to him for advice on women and other man things.

Liam grumbles his agreement, and before long, he stops in front of the library. I get off the bike and hand him the helmet.

He snaps up his visor. “You never answered me, you know. Why you’re at the library so much these days? It’s not Dayton giving you grief, right? Because I’ll find the bastard and—”

“No. It’s not him. I have a project to work on.” I leave out the entire bare my heart to a stranger in a journal thing because Liam would go all bat shit overprotective older brother if he knew.

He holds my gaze for a second, then his stare softens. “Good. I don’t know much about the finance stuff you’re working on, but if you need it, I’m sure Charles would help you.”

I smile, a warmth filling my insides. I know Charles would.

“And don’t sweat college or the future. We’ll take care of you. No pressure. There are no expectations of you.”

My smile falters, but I keep it in place. “Yeah. I know.”

Turning around, I’m careful to keep my posture upright as I walk into the building when I’m all but crumbling inside.

No expectations.

That’s precisely the problem. And he doesn’t understand how the words hurt me.

But Keeper gets it. My breath hitches when I think about my pen pal and I quicken my strides, wanting—no, needing—to find his journal and read his words because they’ll make me feel better.

I head straight to where I hid the journal last time, jittery energy coursing through my veins. Did he figure out my riddle?

Carefully, I push aside the two books in the self-help and psychology section and exhale when I see a small, unassuming scrap of white paper stashed there.

He found it.

Quickly, I open his clue:

Be not just the same,

Learn the names of your feelings,

Share life’s meaning.