“I’m being…a real coward,” she admitted, cramming a knuckle into one eye in frustration.

For a beat, he didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” All at once, she straightened, infusing herself with the needed determination to do what had to be done. “I should let you get your day started.”

“I don’t go to work until two. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. Or maybe tell me what’s going on.”

He’d find out soon enough, once she “came clean.” And he’d hate her for holding out this long, too, wondering what the hell was wrong with her for not doing the right thing from the start. Or for not calling his attention to Jameson’s creeping the night he vandalized the parlor. The whole thing probably could have been prevented if she hadn’t been so stupid.

Hell, sometimes she thought if she could lock herself in her apartment and not have to deal with anyone, ever, that would be just fine with her.

But becoming a hermit wasn’t feasible, so she hung up with Ghost and decided to call Candace. Right then.

Which was how she found herself at Dermamania later that afternoon, spilling her guts to Brian in his office while Candace visibly tried to hold it together in his presence. The longing coming off her best friend was practically palpable, and before long, Macy left the room to take a deep breath and to give them the privacy they so obviously needed.

She’d done it. Candace wasn’t mad at her as far as she could tell. In hindsight, Macy realized how silly she’d been to be worried. Candace had forgiven her for far worse, and she’d shown little more than amusement over hearing about Macy and Ghost’s rendezvous. Brian was so happy to have proof of Jameson’s involvement that she doubted he harbored any ill feelings toward her, either.

There was no doubt about it: the tough exterior Macy tried to show the world had cracked and unexpected emotion had swamped her during the entire exchange. Worry over her best friend, worry over doing the right thing, worry over this unwelcome yet undeniable desire for this guy who shouldn’t even be on her radar… It had all come to a head and she’d made a blubbering fool of herself. But it wouldn’t be the first time. Her mom would tell her it was good for her to get knocked down a few notches every now and then.

As she entered the front area where the machines buzzed alongside happily obscene chatter, Ghost smirked at her. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved head or jaw in several days; the shadow of his hair lent a ruggedness to his appearance that kicked her pulse rate up.

As far as she knew, he had no idea what was going on or what she was doing here. Except for the missing art and TVs, there was no indication Dermamania had ever been trashed. Those guys had really busted their asses to get it up and running again. Amazing.

Since Ghost seemed fairly idle—with no client under his needle and surprisingly not an active participant in the ongoing banter—she ambled over to his station.

It felt good to not be secretive. To not have that weight on her shoulders.

“Hey, killjoy,” he greeted, hoisting himself up on the counter and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Hey yourself,” she flirted shamelessly back. Maybe it was only Macy’s imagination, but conversations dropped all around them. The pink-and-blonde-haired girl—Starla?— in particular paused and stared with open interest.

He’d called her “killjoy” again, but she hoped he was teasing. They’d had some laughs. She wasn’t that bad, was she? Wouldn’t her lighter mood show all over her face?

If his expression was any reflection of hers, though, she must look happy as hell. His grin, as usual, was absolutely killer.

“Long time no see,” he said.

“I know. Sorry about that.”

He gave a slight nod, his gaze steady upon her face. Right away, she knew he was thinking of their conversation earlier that day. “You okay?”

“I’m great.” For the first time since I last saw you, she added silently. “You?”

“Hanging in there.”

She didn’t know much about his life beyond his being Brian’s friend, his job here and the sad story about his parents. By all appearances, he was a carefree guy. But no one was without cares. It occurred to her then that she wanted to know his. All of them. He’d listened to her yammer about her “dilemma.” Maybe she could return the favor.

“So…” she began when it became apparent he was content to sit and grin at her. But she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Are they working things out?” he asked, nodding toward the back.

“Oh. I don’t know.”

A dark eyebrow raised. “Then what are you guys doing here?”

“She...um, I...” Macy cast a glance around. Oh, yeah. He was someone else she needed to come clean to, wasn’t he? He’d been affected as well. But she couldn’t, not here in front of everyone. “Can we talk about it later?”

“Well sure. Are you finally asking me out?”

“What?” she laughed.

“Talking about it later implies I’m going to see you later.”

“We could talk on the phone,” she pointed out.

“I might not answer.”

“You said you would.”

“But I won’t if it means never seeing you.”

Was he really saying this now? In front of all his friends? She heard a few chuckles from behind her. “You’re something, aren’t you?” she asked him.

“Girl, you have no idea,” Starla muttered. Macy threw her a grin over her shoulder.

“I haven’t figured out what yet,” Ghost said. “I don’t think anyone has. Makes you curious, doesn’t it?”

“Say no!” Starla said. “For the love of all that’s holy, say no.”

Candace and Brian took that moment to come in from the hallway, expressions bleak, tension between them that practically vibrated. Macy and Ghost shared a grim look and he gave her a slight nod. She was at her friend’s side and out the door with her in a second, all flirting forgotten.

“Candace, what happened?” she asked as Candace threw open the door to her car and flung herself inside.

Shit.

Sighing, Macy got in and pulled Candace into her arms, letting her cry as long and hard as she needed. She didn’t ask any more questions, didn’t judge, didn’t dole out unwanted advice. Her sweet friend was beyond it all, anyway. Sometimes crying it out was the only thing you could do. Macy had been there.

She swore she would never, ever let herself be there again.

Chapter Five

The text didn’t come until later that night as Macy was settling into bed.

Feel like finishing our conversation?

Glancing at her clock and frowning at the late hour—it was almost midnight—she tried to ignore the sudden throb of her pulse. Now? she replied.

Ah, past your bedtime. Sorry.

I was still awake.

4get not every1 operates on my schedule

She smiled into the darkness of her room, realizing she heard his deep voice saying the words as she read them. It made her toes curl. And she was dying to finish their earlier conversation, but the thought of her best friend at home no doubt sobbing into her pillow gave her pause. It’s okay, she tapped. But I really shouldn’t. I’m drained.