“That’s not what I meant. I was just—”

His fingers spread across my thigh, causing goosebumps to sprout across my flesh in a good way. “Relax, Avery. I’m just kidding.”

My gaze drops to his hand, his palm scorching my flesh, heating places that have been frigid for a very long time. The fogginess I was trying to escape wraps around me and sucks me back in.

He tracks my gaze but doesn’t withdraw his hand. “I was told by Benny to take a quick break before eleven and the rush comes in.” As his eyes drift up to mine, his tongue slips out to moisten his lips.

I should tell him to remove his hand. I really f**king should. However, I can’t get the words to leave my mouth. I start to recollect the kiss out in the alley and can almost feel his lips on mine, his hands on me, how he tasted. I’m thinking very un-friend type things at the moment, and for some reason, I can’t find the strength to give a shit that I’m breaking my own rules.

Through my cloudy brain, I manage to smile. “So, how’s your first night going?”

“It hasn’t been super easy,” he admits, glancing at the array of alcohol bottles in front of us while his fingers continue sketching a featherlight path on my thigh. “But honestly, I thought it’d be harder than it is. That might be because it’s so f**king busy I barely have time to think of anything else.”

“That’s what makes it easier for me.” I pick at a loose thread on my shorts, glancing at his hand again. Tell him to move it. “Well, that and the fact that I don’t want to go back to the person I was when I was drunk all the time.”

He considers something carefully while looking at my shoulder then a lopsided grin forms. “I would really like to hear that story one day.” The sincerity in his eyes throws me off balance. “That is, if I can earn your trust.”

“Maybe one day.” Relief washes over me when the music turns off. I jump to my feet and his hand falls off my leg. Suddenly, I can breathe again. “Times up. Let’s get our asses back to work.”

Nodding, he stands up. “See you next break.” Then he does something unexpected and completely against the rules, like the thigh touching, maybe even more so because it feels so intimate.

He lifts his hand and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my cheekbone before he turns and struts away, leaving me with my mouth agape as I watch him push his way to the front door.

It takes a few seconds for me to jerk my attention away from him. In fact, it takes Charissa smacking my ass to do it. Then I busy myself with orders, making myself focus on only that and not the blonde-haired, blue eyed, sexy guy standing near the entrance door. I do better than I thought I would, but that might be because I never get a break. People continue coming at me with orders all through the night and I struggle to keep up. By the time The Vibe closes, I’m exhausted, reek of booze, and just want to pass out in my bed. Tristan is talking to Benny in the office, and I hope it’s not about anything bad.

“See you at the party, if not sooner.” Charissa waggles her fingers at me as I lock up the register. “And don’t forget that bikini’s aren’t optional.”

I plaster on a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, that ain’t happening.”

She pulls a face as she slips her hoodie over her dress. “Whatever. Just show up, ready to have fun. No bailing out.”

“I promised I would.” I put the clean glass down below the register then flip off all the lights except for the front ones near the window and the door.

“You always promise you will,” she reminds me, zipping up her hoodie. “But you always bail out early, either because of work, Mason, school, or something else.”

“That’s because I’m responsible.”

“Well, it’s your birthday party, so you get exclusive rights to be irresponsible for one night.”

“That’s not how it works. But I’ll try my damn hardest to have fun this time. I’ll even pinkie swear on it.”

She grins as she walks up to me with her pinkie up. We hitch fingers and then laugh as we pull away.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” She starts toward the back door, but briefly pauses before she enters the hallway. “Have fun, Avery.”

I figure she’s referring to the party again and don’t think much of it. I reach under the counter for my purse, and when I stand back upright, Tristan is on the other side of the bar, appearing happy to see me.

“Hey. So I was thinking I could walk you out to your car.” He rests his elbows on the counter as I sling my purse handle over my shoulder. “I have to wait for Nova to pick me up anyway. She just texted me to say she’s running a few minutes late.”

“Actually, I’m taking the bus,” I tell him as I dig around in my purse for my bus pass.

“The bus? Why? Where’s your car?”

I find my bus pass beneath a sticky piece of candy and a toy car Mason must have put inside there. “A… friend is using it,” I lie, having no idea why. I could just tell him about Jax, that he’s my brother who lives with me, but I’ve already told Tristan so much, more than a lot of people.

“Friend?” he questions or more like accuses. “Hmm...”

I round the corner of the bar and head for the main door. “Hmm, what? What are you implying, Tristan?”

He strides after me, his long legs easily keeping up. “I was just wondering if this friend is a friend like me.”

“No,” I reply without so much as a single thought to what I’m saying. Then I shake my head, flatten my hand against the door, and shove it open, reaching back inside to turn off the last of the lights before walking out into the night.

The crescent moon beams vividly beside the stars that seem to glitter brighter than they have before, as if they’re trying to tell me something. Just across the vacant parking lot near the corner of the street is where the bus stop is. It’s not far, but the inadequate lighting makes me edgy.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?” I skim the parking lot for any sign that Conner could be lurking out there somewhere. I haven’t seen or heard from him since the night he banged on the door of my home. But unless he’s behind bars, I never feel safe. “What time did Benny schedule you for?”

“Nine.” He checks for messages on his phone. “So how long of a bus ride is it?”

“Like forty-five minutes.”

“You want a ride?” The pale glow of the screen lights up his face as he reads a text, then his fingers move as he responds to it.

“No, I’m okay.” I drag the edge of the bus pass across the palm of my hand, feeling anxious for some reason. “It’s late, and I don’t want Nova to have to drive fifteen miles out of the way.”

“She won’t care,” he promises, putting his phone away. “She’s that way, all do-gooder and everything.”

“I can kind of tell. And, really, it’s fine. I ride the bus all the time.”

“Avery, just let me help. For getting me the job.”

“You don’t owe me anything for doing that. I like helping you.”

“I know you do.” The concept seems to acutely puzzle him. “But I want to help you, too, not just take like I used to in the past.”

I dither, about to accept his offer because, honestly, I really despise riding the bus, when I notice a familiar car turning off the road and into the parking lot. I remember the day Conner bought the piece of shit and how pissed off I was because we didn’t need a second car, especially one that broke down every two seconds. And how he got the money to pay for it made the whole thing even worse.

Two years later, the damn thing still looks like a piece of shit with its mismatching doors, a dented in hood, and an engine that backfires as the car bounces over a speed bump.

“Shit.” I skitter back toward the door. “I don’t want to f**king deal with this right now.”

“Deal with what?” Tristan assesses my expression then tracks my line of vision to the car. “Wait, is that—”

I snatch hold of Tristan’s hand and haul him back with me as I hurry inside The Vibe. Darkness blankets the bar, but I don’t bother turning the lights on. I drop my purse to the floor, race to the counter, and grab the keys from the drawer near the register. Then I run back for the door, stumbling over a barstool in the process.

“Jesus, Avery,” Tristan says in horror as I limp the rest of the way there. “Are you okay?”

I fumble to get the key in the lock, only breathing again when I hear the deadbolt click. Panting, I stare out the door as the car stops in front of the building, backfiring again. The windows are rolled down and the music is cranked up so loudly the window to the side of me vibrates.

“Just go away. Just go away,” I chant under my breath.

The driver’s side door swings open and then Conner climbs out. He has a cigarette between his lips, is wearing a plaid shirt over a white tank top, and his hair is cropped short. He looks almost like he did toward the end of our marriage except he might be a little bit heavier now. What that means, I have no clue, nor do I care.

My heart slams agonizingly against the inside of my chest as Conner tips his head back and looks up at the neon sign on top of The Vibe. He shuts the door then drops the cigarette to the ground and starts around the car.

“Please get back in your car. Please. Please. Please,” I murmur, balling my hands into fists as I begin to shake and shiver.

Tristan suddenly places a hand on my shoulder. Not only do I feel the warmth and calmness, but I drown in it.

“Avery,” Tristan utters softly, his fingers drawing a delicate path up and down my arm. “God, you’re shivering.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, like it somehow situation better. My fear of my ex-husband is humiliating, way more than being up on a bar, dancing in front of people.

“Don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault. Nothing he does is your fault.” His hand glides up to my shoulder, and he gently pulls on me, trying to draw me away from the window. “And he can’t get in here, so let’s just go back to the bar and wait until he leaves.”

“I need to call the police,” I mumble as Conner turns away from the building and ducks his head to say something to a guy sitting in the passenger seat. “He’s breaking his restraining order again.”

Tristan begins tracing soothing circles on the nape of my neck as he steers me away from the door. “We can do that, but after we get you away from the door.”

I take one final look at Conner then tear my attention away from him. Not daring to meet Tristan’s gaze, I wiggle my arm from his grasp and scurry behind the bar while retrieving my phone from my purse.

“Can you go tell Benny what’s up?” I ask as I dial the police. “I want him to know what’s going on.”

Tristan doesn’t say anything, but I hear him retreat toward the stairway to Benny’s office. I bite my thumbnail as I quickly tell the operator what’s going on, and she says she’ll send someone over.

By the time I hang up, Tristan has returned.

“He’ll be down in a second,” he says, pointing over his shoulder at the hallway. “He went to set the alarm and check all the doors.”

I nod, clutching my phone as I pace the floor, listening for yelling, the sounds of glass breaking, threats. However, it remains quiet—too quiet.

“Hey.” Tristan circles around to the back of the bar and obstructs my path, causing me to almost run into him. When I slam to a halt, he places his hand over mine and guides my thumb away from my mouth, putting an end to the nail biting. “Everything’s going to be okay, Avery. He can’t hurt you anymore. And the police will be here soon.”

I almost laugh. “The police were at my house the other night, and they couldn’t catch him. And even if they did, what would happen? Another short time in jail, if that, then he’d be out, tormenting me again.”

“Wait, he was at your house the other night?” Tristan asks, shocked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

A hollow laugh leaves my lips. “Because he’s my problem, not yours. You should just walk away now. Go out the back door and don’t get involved in this.”

“I’m already involved,” he says resolutely. “In fact, I got involved three months ago, so I’m not backing out now.”

“Tristan, I…” I have no idea what to say to him. Even Jax has never gotten involved like Tristan did that night he stepped in.

For the strangest moment, I feel safe with Conner just yards away, and I have no idea what to do with that. Safeness has never been something that’s come easily to me. After my father left, I felt afraid for years while living with my mother. Then Conner came into my life, and for a second, everything felt all right, but it was ephemeral, an illusion.

Could this be another illusion?

Or is it different?

How can I tell?

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tristan tells me then pulls over a chair and pats the seat. “Now, sit down and let’s talk.”

“Talk?” I question, eyeballing the chair with wariness. “About what?”

Tristan sighs as he steps around me and gently sets his hands on my shoulders. Then he steers me toward the chair and lightly pushes me down until I’m sitting. “About anything you want.” He takes a seat on the floor in front of the chair.

“I can’t think of anything right now,” I mutter, my gaze darting to the front door when I hear a sharp bang.