Logan opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wanted to confide . . . but did he dare? Grappling with possibilities, he froze. Though he trusted Hunter with his life, the note had been very clear on the terrible consequences for failing to keep this to himself.

Hunter grabbed his shoulder. “Look, I heard that you freaked out when she didn’t show up for class. You wanna tell me something?”

Maybe. Logan truly hoped his brother had decided to pull a sick prank last night. If Hunter was behind this, Logan would totally rearrange his face—then breathe a sigh of relief.

“Did you jack with me yesterday by leaving a note on my pillow?”

Hunter scowled at him as if he thought Logan had a few screws loose. “No. When would I have done it? While we were at the police station? While I rocked Kimber to sleep?”

Right. At eight, their little sister had been terrified last night. After hours at the police station, she’d come away wise enough to understand that she’d never see her mom again, but too young to cope alone. Hunter had stepped in and stayed all night. And he wasn’t known for his levity, so hoping he’d pulled the prank had been a stretch.

Which meant the threat was real. Logan swore under his breath. What the hell should he do?

Scanning the hall to make sure he and Hunter were alone, Logan gulped down nerves about to make his stomach revolt. “Last night, not long after we got home from the police station, I found a note on my pillow. I—it was from Mom’s killer, threatening to kill Tara if I don’t stay away from her.”

His blue eyes widened with shock. “What? Did you tell Dad or call the police?”

“I can’t,” he choked out. “The note said that if I told anyone, she’d ‘suffer.’ Last night, I hoped it was just a sick prank. And I . . . needed to talk to Tara.”

“You called her?” Hunter’s grim tone said he disapproved of that impulse.

After all the police interviews, after they’d removed his mom’s body, Logan had needed to talk to the one person who understood what it was like to lose a mother. He’d also wanted to check on her, make sure no one had harmed her. And after he’d taken her virginity yesterday, she’d surely ached for some reassurance. Yet his Cherry had brushed aside her own needs to help him. She’d been so sympathetic on the phone, so understanding of his disbelief, anger, and confusion. Her voice alone had soothed him.

But after giving in to his need to hear her voice, he couldn’t find her.

Dread pounded his stomach as he nodded. “She agreed to meet me at the park at nine. I waited an hour, but she never showed. On my way to her house, Dad found me and dragged me home and . . .” He let out a sick sigh of worry. “I tried to call Tara all night. She didn’t answer or show up for class this morning.” Logan crushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m so fucking afraid that I got her killed.”

The bell ending third period sounded. He looked frantically for Tara in the crowding halls, but saw no sign of her. Panic nearly choked him.

Damn it, why hadn’t he heeded the threat?

Hunter frowned. “Given Mom’s brutal murder, if some asshole is threatening Tara, I’d take it seriously and walk away.”

Do without Cherry? Tears stung Logan’s eyes. Until yesterday, he hadn’t cried about anything or anyone since he was nine. But he’d shed tears for Mom—and now for Tara.

Maybe dealing with all the shock and death of the last twenty-four hours had changed him, but Logan feared that he couldn’t live without Tara Jacobs. And he couldn’t take another loss now, especially not hers.

“But I love her.”

Hunter’s face turned grim. “If that’s the case, then you’d rather see her alive, right?”

God, what kind of question was that? Of course. But . . . Jesus. He hated this feeling of helplessness, of his entire life being ripped apart all at once and him being unable to stop it.

With a clap on the back, Hunter said, “I get that this is hurting you, man. But better you hurt than her.”

He’s right. Swallowing the feeling of sick dread roiling through him, Logan turned away, opened his locker. Relief poured over him to find a neatly folded piece of paper. Maybe Tara had been running late this morning to school and left a note. She’d done that once after a dentist appointment. God, let her be all right. With shaking hands, he tore into the white paper.

You didn’t listen. Tara paid.

Air left his body with a whoosh as if he’d been punched by a battering ram. Oh shit! He couldn ’t breathe, couldn’t blink. People moved in the halls around Logan, but for him, time stood still, while inside, he screamed a silent no!!!!

Over his shoulder, Hunter read the note and cursed. “Whoever’s behind this is isn’t fucking around. They know who you are, where you live, and how you feel.”

Every word of truth Hunter spoke stabbed him. What the fuck was he going to do? “Why her? What if she’s been killed?”

“I don’t know. But if, by some chance, Tara is still alive, you need to stay away from that girl.”

Crumpling the note in his fist, Logan tried not to cry again as he shoved it in his pocket and reached for his phone and dialed once more. He just needed to know that she was all right. Tara’s voicemail picked up. He closed the phone and shoved it in his pocket.

Please be okay. Please . . . She had to be safe. If she wasn’t, it would be his fault for calling her, for doing exactly what he’d been warned against. And he’d lose another loved one to terrible, sudden violence.

“I have to take a Government test,” Hunter murmured. “I’ll see you at lunch. We’ll talk more.”

Absently, Logan nodded, his head still spinning as his brother walked away.

Fourth period was about to begin. And still, Tara hadn’t come to her locker, only three down from his own. If she didn’t, it would all be his fault. Logan raked a hand through his hair. Tara was so smart and responsible. She would never have missed school unless something was wrong.

On autopilot, he grabbed his books and closed his locker, fear eating at his composure. To say that the day before had been both the best and the worst of his life would be a gross understatement. His thrill that he’d finally made Cherry his had totally amplified the horror of discovering his mom’s body. The worry that he’d spelled Tara’s doom only made it all worse.

“Logan?” a shy voice whispered.

Cherry!

He whirled to find her standing beside her locker, pretty brown eyes bouncing up to his face, her expression concerned. Relief poured thorough him, and he ached to grab her, kiss her, get inside her again. They’d get busted in the hallways if he did more than hold her hand. He didn’t care about getting caught himself, but her overprotective stepfather already disapproved of him, an experienced jock sniffing around his pristine daughter. If Logan lured Adam Sterling’s valedictorian-in-training into trouble, the man would only try harder to pull them apart.

“I’ve been trying to call you.” It came out like an accusation, but Logan was too strung out on worry to take it back.

“Sorry. I dropped my phone last night. It broke.”

Logan released the last of his breath he’d been holding. That was it? Thank God it hadn’t been anything more serious. Thank God no one had harmed her.

At least not yet.

He stared, not sure how to how to explain his behavior. Not sure how much longer he could stop himself from touching her.

Then he realized that he shouldn’t do either. He shouldn’t even be talking to her now.

Under his intent gaze, a flush crawled up her skin, from the pale flesh above her little white cardigan, all the way to her lightly freckled nose. She nervously fingered a heart-shaped pendant around her neck, eyes cast down demurely. Was she remembering yesterday after school, when they’d gone all the way? Logan ached to return to that blissful moment, when he’d been able to truly experience first love—without knowing any of the horrors that awaited.

A vision of Tara brutalized like his mother flashed through his head. If he didn’t want that to become reality, he had to end this now.

Damn it, she stood two feet from him, and he could barely keep himself from reaching out to touch her. How agonizing would it be to see her every day but know that she might as well be a million miles away?

Logan swallowed all that down. “I have to go.”

She grabbed his arm. With that one touch, she soothed him. He closed his eyes and savored her for one selfish second, wishing it could last forever.

Then he jerked away.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it last night,” she apologized, her sweet face all but pleading with him to understand. “You needed me, and I—”

“It’s fine.” He was sure there was a good reason she hadn’t made it. His Cherry was nothing if not caring and conscientious. Maybe her stepdad had found out they’d made love. Maybe she’d gotten grounded. Logan frowned.

“It’s not fine. Logan, you found your mother murdered yesterday. Why are you even here today?”

“My dad insisted on normalcy. You know the Colonel. Why deal with anything as paltry as emotion?” And Logan knew that he shouldn’t be seen talking to her now. Anyone—a killer—could be watching them. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Logan, you look . . . devastated. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you needed me.” Her eyes filled with tears. For him. “I’m here now. I know how the death of a mom feels. I’ll help you through it. We’ll talk, or whatever you need.”

He swallowed. That was his Cherry—giving, willing to do anything to soothe and please him. But he wanted her to live more.

“I don’t need anything from you.” He turned away.

“Wait!” She grabbed his shoulder, pulled him back. “Let me explain last night. I snuck out and got on my bike to come to the park and see you. I didn’t get two blocks before a car nearly ran me over.”

Logan’s heart seized up. “Oh my—Are you hurt?”

She angled her arm around from under her sweater. It was covered in a big white cast. The entire arm was in a sling. “The car came out of an alley. I guess whoever was driving didn’t see my reflectors. I jerked away so they didn’t mow me down, and they drove off. I hit the fence and fell. Dropped my phone. The jerk drove off. My shoulder was dislocated and my arm broken. My stepdad and I were in the ER until after midnight.”

You didn’t listen. Tara paid. The warning burned through Logan’s head.

He swallowed down fear. “The driver didn’t stop to help you?”

“No.” She looked down and shook her head. “He screeched off, like he was in a hurry.”

Or like he didn’t want any witnesses. Tara’s “accident” had been Logan’s last warning; he felt it all the way to his bones. Even now, standing in the hall with her, he could be signing her death warrant. Whoever had written this note had also killed his mother—brutally. Bled her out and enjoyed her slow, torturous death. Logan knew that if he stayed near Tara . . .

Fuck, he couldn’t even finish the sentence. The images pummeling his brain filled him with fresh panic. He forced himself to shake off her touch and back away.

“It doesn’t matter,” Logan choked out and turned away to shut his locker.

For a moment, he squeezed his eyes closed. He didn’t want to do this. Being without Cherry was going to hurt so fucking bad. He needed her, loved her. But this wasn’t about him.

He drew in a deep breath. Once he turned and spoke to her, she’d never look at him the same way again. In fact, she was so caring and certain to be worried about his grief that he’d have to make sure she never wanted to speak to him again.

God, she was going to hate him for this. Hurting her was going to kill him.

Logan hesitated, pressed his lips together. No matter how excruciating, he needed to grow a set—now. Better his heartache than her death.

Shoving down the anguish ripping him to pieces, Logan turned. “I’m sorry you got hurt, but you not showing doesn’t matter. Tara, we can’t be together anymore.”

Her expression became guarded. “Did you finally decide that jocks like you can’t be with brains like me?”

Tara looked ready to tear into him for that, filling him with a bittersweet pride. He’d love to take her to the prom, shock all his friends. Yeah, he was dating a smart girl. And he loved her. If they didn’t like it, they could kiss his ass.

But the opportunity to show her off as his would never come now.

She shook her finger at him. “I won’t believe it. You’ve spent three months convincing me that was my hang up, not yours. You haven’t suddenly had a change of heart.”

“It’s just not working for me. I’m used to dating a certain kind of girl.” Vapid, sleazy, and utterly dull. God, he’d miss Cherry.