His hands went up in surrender. “All I’m saying is that you’re gonna get hurt. She’s not gonna be around, and she’s not gonna let you in. You might as well give up now.”

Maybe his words should’ve surprised me, but they didn’t. I’d worked out enough about Chloe to know what he meant. Just as I opened my mouth to ask why she was like that, the cop at the desk interrupted me. “I’ll tell you what, Hunter.” He pointed a pen at me and smirked. “You give me the exclusive of where you plan on playing college ball, and I’ll let your little girlfriend go.”

I dropped my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was pissed and so fucking tired. I wanted her out of there. I wanted to thank her. And I wanted my goddamn bed. “Are you charging her or just keeping her for shits and giggles?”

And, right on cue, the door behind the desk opened and she stepped out. Her eyes widened when she saw the two of us waiting for her. We stood at the same time, but her eyes fixed on me. “What are you doing here?” She sounded pissed.

“Waiting for you,” I answered with equal attitude.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I just wasn’t expecting you.” She turned her attention to Clayton. “Or you.”

He shrugged. “What am I gonna do? Let my little sis sit in the slammer?”

Her face lit up with her smile. “I wasn’t in the slammer, you asshole.”

“Close enough.” He yanked on her arm and pulled her in for a hug. “Don’t do this shit again,” he said into her ear.

She nodded as they pulled apart.

“What are you doing now?” he asked her.

“Get my car, go home, and crash.”

“You won’t be able to sleep. The kids will be up soon.”

She shrugged.

“I’d offer you stay at mine, but Lisa’s home this weekend. That could be awkward.”

I cleared my throat.

They both turned to me.

“Um, I know you’re tired . . . and there’s no one home at my house. We have lots of space . . . You can always crash there for a few hours. It’s the least I could do.”

Chloe

“Are you sure your parents aren’t going to care?” I asked as he opened his front door.

“They won’t know. Mom lives in the guesthouse, and Dad’s not home.” He waited for me to step inside.

I stopped in the middle of the foyer. My gaze scanned the expansive space. From the outside, I knew it was large, but I wasn’t prepared for how vast it would be on the inside. “Whoa, this is, um . . . big.” But it looked unlived in. Kind of like a hospital. The only personal touches I could see were military pictures of a man—I assumed, his dad—and some war memorabilia on the mantel in the living room. There was absolutely nothing at all that said a family lived there. No family photos hung on the walls, and there were none of Blake anywhere. No proud trophies on display. Nothing.

“I guess,” he said, taking my hand and leading me upstairs to his bedroom. “I’d describe it as empty.”

I stopped in the middle of his room and looked around. “This is, um . . .”

“Big?” he finished for me.

“No.” I dropped my bag and turned to him. “I was going to say empty.”

He glanced around the room. “I guess.”

“But this is your home, right?” I kicked off my shoes and slowly made my way to the side of his bed.

“Yeah, of course it’s my home. Why?”

I pulled back the covers and sat down. “I mean your permanent home. You’ve lived here for years, right? So why don’t you have anything personal in here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just expected it to be different. You’re good at basketball, right? Where are all your team pictures? All your trophies? Your jerseys?” I shrugged. “Aren’t you proud of your accomplishments? Or your parents—they aren’t proud of you? Mary—she even keeps the kids’ participation ribbons. I just thought—”

A low laugh bubbled out of him. But then he stopped—he must’ve noticed the look of pity on my face. “It’s just a room, Chloe. I come home, and I sleep in the same bed every night.”

“I don’t know,” I said, moving down the bed until I was under the covers and my head rested on the pillow. “I guess I just grew up in foster care . . . moved around a couple times . . . Those places were houses, not homes. I’d give anything to have a room I could call my own.”

He cursed under his breath and moved to draw the curtains closed. “I’m an asshole, Chloe, I didn’t even think.”

“It’s fine,” I said through a yawn. “Are you gonna sleep for a bit, too?”

“Yeah, I’ll be downstairs. Just come—”

“Wait.” I sat up. “You don’t have to go. It’s your bed.”

He hesitated for a beat, until I pushed down the covers as an invitation. He smiled, and I could see any fight he had left was gone. I waited for him to settle in before I spoke again. “Thank you for waiting for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why did you do it—take the fall for us? You didn’t have to do that, either.”

I turned onto my side. The bed shifted as he did the same. We were face-to-face, only inches apart. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble. Josh has Tommy. You have your entire future ahead of you.”