Truth is, I’d goaded him to hit me. I wanted it. For both of us. Because a good hit was simple. A good hit was something we both needed.

Despite myself, a smile wobbles over my lips. “You want to know the crazy thing? I preferred that response to silence. It felt like the real us, the way we used to be when one of us would piss the other off, and we’d settle it with a punch on the mouth before getting back to business.”

A broken laugh leaves Killian, and he leans back to scrub at his wet cheeks with the heel of his hand. “Nobody can piss me off quite like you.”

Snorting, I wipe my eyes. “The feeling is more than mutual.”

We sit in silence, each of us trying to get it together.

“You are my brother,” he says after a minute. “Life without you doesn’t … It doesn’t fucking work.”

Guilt washes over me, fresh and burning. “I fucked things up—”

“No!” His stern shout snaps between us, and we both flinch.

Killian sucks in a breath. “No, John, you didn’t. Not with this. That’s what I’m trying to say. You did nothing wrong. You are the strongest person I know. Don’t you ever fucking say this was your fault.”

He stares at me like he’s trying to slice through my skin. “I fucked up. The guys fucked up. We are the ones who let you down. It’s no different if you had a broken leg and we let you limp along.”

A short, humorless laugh escapes me. “It’s a little different. You can see the broken leg. You can’t see what’s going on inside my head.”

Killian shakes his head. “Maybe so. But when you tried, it was pretty freaking apparent that you needed help. I’m not going to let you down again.”

The determination in his voice has me turning to face him, and he stares back unflinching. “Whatever you need, John. Whenever you need it.”

“Thing is,” I tell him, “if it had been you who tried, I would have reacted the same way. I would have been pissed as hell that you didn’t come to me.”

His brows wing up in shock, and I give him a bitter smile.

“No one reacts perfectly. Don’t try to. I’m just over being the elephant in the room. Let it go, man. Treat me like before.” I glance his way and smirk. “Be the dickhead you used to be instead of the dickhead holding this shit between us.”

Killian rubs a hand over his face. “I can do that.” He sits straighter. “I will do that.”

“Good.” I clear my throat. “And thank you.”

He knows I’m not only talking about his agreeing to my request. His shoulder presses more firmly into mine. “Any time.”

We sit like that, propping each other up, not saying a word. And though it’s hard for me to admit it, even to myself, the physical connection and the familiarity of my oldest friend sinks into my bones like a balm.

Stella was right; I did need to hear this from Killian. I’ve been holding so much shit in—again—and never realizing it. Stella knew exactly what I needed and got it for me. Even though I stomped on her heart and cast her aside, she helped me.

The pain in my chest becomes bright and ice cold. All the miles I’ve run are a wasted effort. I can’t keep her out of my head or my heart. She comes crashing back in, so hard that I flinch.

Where is she? Does she hurt the way I do?

Stop thinking about her.

Killian eyes me sidelong. “My pet sitter called to tell me I’d better get my ass home and be there for my best friend. Now, you’re wearing a look I am way too familiar with because I wore it myself when I cut Libby loose. Talk to me, man.”

“Stella,” I croak. “I fell in love, freaked out, ended it.”

“Bonehead.” He slaps my head for emphasis.

I rub the spot absently, but it’s my heart that hurts, not my head. “She’s better off with someone who isn’t messed up. She needs someone dependable.”

Killian frowns as though smelling something rotten. “You’re seriously trying to peddle that bullshit?”

“It isn’t bullshit. I am unreliable. I’m a fucking mess.”

“And yet she loves you anyway.” He levels a hard stare. “Don’t give me that look. She called me right after you stomped on her heart. She loves you.”

Damn it, I am freezing. I rub at my shaking chest. “I doubt she does anymore.”

“Because it’s so easy to turn those feelings off.” He snorts. “How’s it working for you?”

“Not so great.” Understatement of my life.

“Stop running, John. Figuratively and literally. It won’t work.”

With a sigh, I rest my arm over my aching eyes. “I know you think I’m talking shit, but I’m serious. I can’t go back to Stella and say I’m sorry, only to turn around and do it again when I’m feeling unstable. It isn’t fair to her.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to let her go?”

There’s a greasy feeling in my throat, and I swallow convulsively. “I already did.”

Killian makes a noise of protest but he doesn’t argue, and I sit there on the couch wishing it would swallow me up. Finally, he sighs and rises to his feet. “If I fall asleep, I’ll have jet lag from hell, and Libby is in the Hamptons with … Brenna. You’re coming out with me and getting some pizza.”

I don’t want to eat. I’ll probably choke on it. “You’re going to nag me if I say no, aren’t you?”

His smile is genuine and kind of evil. “I’ll just call Whip and Rye. Whip has been talking about playing charades.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“You want to take that risk?”

No, I really don’t. And since I can’t get away from him, I stand. “Fine, I’ll go.”

Neither of us says another word about Stella. It’s as though she never existed. I can see the well-worn road of my old life stretching out before me once more. It isn’t happy but it’s a path I know.

By the time the night is over, I’m so numb, I’m almost able to ignore hole in my chest where Stella ought to fill.

Almost.

Almost isn’t going to cut it. I need my life back. Fear tells me one path to walk on; my heart insists on another. I’m going to listen to my heart.

It doesn’t take me long to call her. As soon as we return from pizza, I pull out my phone. It’s a kick in the gut when a mechanical voice tells me her number is no longer in service.

“Fuck.” I disconnect.

Killian, who’s still hanging out and trying to distract me with video games, grabs two beers out of the fridge and walks into the living room and watches me pace. “What’s your problem?”

I plop down on the sofa next to him but ignore my beer. “She cut off her phone.” Tossing my phone onto the coffee table, I pinch the tense spot between my eyes. “Or got a new one.”

Killian shrugs. “Did you expect anything less? You kicked her to the curb.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it or anything.”

He smiles wide. “No more patronizing you, remember?”

Asshole.

“I don’t know where she is or how she’s getting along.” I run a hand through my hair. “If she’s all right.”

“Stella is a capable woman. She’s been taking care of herself for years.”