Never had she felt so lost.

“We’ll work it out, okay?”

Cherry blinked away the fog. We, as in the two of them? God, no. He’d taken care of her, driven her home, been downright amazing. But this was different.

No way would she further involve him with her twisted, redneck foster brothers. Brothers. She laughed at the absurdity of the concept, then slapped a hand over her mouth when apprehension brought Denver closer. No, they were no relation to her, not in any way at all.

Thank the heavens.

Somehow, she’d deal with them. “It’s my problem.”

Denver studied her. “You must be feeling a little better.”

Just because she didn’t agree with everything he said? “I am.”

“There’s more.” He propped a shoulder against the wall. “I hope it won’t hurt you, but I think you need to know.”

What else could there be? She waited, braced for the worst.

“They said their pops had passed away.”

Breath left her and her shoulders slumped—this time with relief. No, she hadn’t wished anyone dead. She’d only wished to be free of them. But she wouldn’t mourn, either. “Thank you for telling me.”

Tone thick with irony, he replied, “You’re welcome.”

Why did they want to see her? Not because they thought she cared. They knew better. So then what?

“Will you promise me something?”

Not trusting that silky tone, she eyed Denver warily. “I don’t know. What?”

“Promise me you won’t contact them.” Pushing away from the wall, he stalked closer. “Promise me you’ll take your meds, rest up and get well. Then we can talk about it.”

“It’s not your problem.”

He frowned. “I don’t want you to shut me out.”

That’s what he thought? “I’m not.” She wouldn’t.

“Then promise me.”

He asked for the impossible. “I’d rather get it out of the way. I need—” It and them out of my life “—to give my condolences.” The lie hurt, but what else could she do? She couldn’t tell him the truth, so a lie was her only option.

He sighed his disappointment, making her feel even worse. “All right, honey, have it your way.”

Seeing him turn for the door stopped her heart. “Denver, wait—”

“I’ll tell Merissa I’m staying over.”

“Don’t— What?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her the full force of his daunting stare. “They were talking with Phelps at the hotel, so they might already be figuring out where you live. Not like Warfield is a sprawling city.”

Oh God. She hadn’t considered that.

“And if you call, they’ll have your number, too. You won’t tell me why they scare you—”

Her gaze shot back to his. “I didn’t say they scared me.”

Sympathy smoothed out his frown, filled his voice with compassion. “But they do.”

Yes, they did. Very much. It made her skin crawl to even think of them. But to know they’d mentioned her, that they were close, possibly looking for her...

Rather than lie again, she looked away. “I don’t want to impose on you more than I already have.”

“I need to run home and take care of a few things, rearrange my schedule, and set up—”

“Okay, fine! I won’t call.”

Her acerbic tone didn’t put him off. “Growling like that is only going to get you coughing again.”

She flung a pillow at him, and damn it, it taxed her and fell short of hitting him.

Denver looked at the pillow by his feet, then at her. “I need to teach you how to fight, and how to be a good sport when you lose.”

She wouldn’t lose. She couldn’t. This was too important.

It startled her when his finger touched under her chin and raised her face. “Promise me.”

“I already did,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, but now I get the feeling you’re scheming.”

Maybe because she was. “I won’t call them tonight.”

Exasperation had him stepping back. “Damn it, Cherry, don’t play word games, either. I want you to wait to call until we’ve had time enough to talk it out.”

“It won’t matter.”

“What won’t?”

She shouldn’t have said that. Shaking her head, she said, “I’ll wait. But not too long.”