A few reporters cracked grins.

“Anything else?” The same reporter looked like he was getting at something, like he already knew.

“The guy the Quinns paid to harass my girlfriend attacked my best friend, my brother, and me with fifteen guys.”

The buzz started to grow. People began getting out phones and texting.

“Any other run-ins?”

“He and ten of his friends attacked me and my girlfriend at an event in Roussou, California.” I paused. This guy did know. He was leading me there. I leaned down again into the microphone. “And Adam Quinn broke into my house here in Cain.”

All the heads snapped back up.

“Can you say that again?”

“Adam Quinn broke into my home two weeks ago. My girlfriend and I were the only ones home. The police came and caught him.”

“Did they arrest him?”

“No. I didn’t press charges.”

“Why not?”

“Because I knew he wouldn’t be honest about why he was really there if I did. After they left, he confessed that he wasn’t there to steal anything. He was looking for my computer because he wanted to load a virus onto it so he could monitor my email, and everything else I had on there.”

“Why did he want to do this?”

“He said he wanted to make my life hell.” I waited a beat. “His fiancée broke up with him after he tried to get me arrested for assault and battery. He blames me for his dad, and he blames me for his broken engagement.”

“You said there was bad blood between you two in high school? That was over your girlfriend?”

“Yes. He wanted her. She chose me.”

The second reporter, the one who’d led me toward a different storyline about how I got on the Quinns’ computer raised his hand. “Is there anything else you want to tell us today, Mason?”

I didn’t even have to ask myself. I said without hesitation, “I’m not a nice guy. I have a history of fighting and protecting people I love. I called you guys because I wanted to come clean about that, and I wanted to share my side before you read all about how I’m privileged and wealthy and another prick who got off easy. That’s not my life. That’s not who I am—”

“Your father is a multimillionaire, correct?” It was the first reporter again.

I nodded.

“Yet you and your brother chose to attend public high school when you could’ve chosen a private academy in your town?”

“Yes.”

“Your best friend’s brake lines were severed because of a high school rivalry, correct?”

“He was in a car crash because of that.”

“Your girlfriend was hospitalized because she was jumped in your high school’s bathroom. That’s right?”

I nodded. Where was he going with this?

“Did you do anything against anyone in high school or since you’ve attended Cain University?”

“Yes.”

His eyes widened.

“But only to protect people I love.”

“Did you set out to hurt this Adam Quinn?”

“No.”

The first reporter glanced around the room. They all seemed to be following his lead. He shrugged. “I guess I only have one other question. You stated before that your girlfriend was your ‘girlfriend at the time.’ Why is that? Did you two break up?”

Oh. Fuck. Forgive me, Sam.

But I couldn’t lie, not about this, not about something I was proud of.

“No. She’s my fiancée now.”

SAMANTHA

An hour earlier.

“Sam.”

I was lacing up my sneakers. Mason had gone to tell his coaches what was going on. We’d slept super late, and half the day was gone already. I wanted to get a run in before he called to let us know their plan. I looked up from the back patio when Logan said my name, opening the back door. My heart sank at the look on his face.

“What is it?” My hands were suddenly clammy. I rubbed them down my running pants and stood.

He gestured behind him. “Just come in. You need to see this. It’s on the university’s cable channel.”

I think I knew even before I stepped inside.

Mason had been calm when he left, too calm. He’d been like that all night too, and the way he’d made love to me last night—I suppressed a shiver, one of the good kinds. He’d been tender, loving, giving. He’d worshiped my body, and then he’d taken us both on an almost-frenzied ride. It had been exhilarating, but now I knew why.

I heard his voice from the television in the living room. “ . . . My father is James Kade. He owns and runs a multimillion—”

Logan growled behind me, his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw clenching. “This is fucked up. He went alone.”

“Did you expect anything different?”

Nate came down the stairs. He wasn’t shocked like me, or furious like Logan. He was resigned, and a hint of fondness played over his features. He ran a hand over his face, then held it out toward the television. “This is what he does, Logan. You know that.”

“This was all of our decision.”

“No.” Nate shook his head. His voice was so calm, so understanding. “This is his career, his life. It was his decision. It was never really ours.”

“Nate—” Logan whirled to him, his eyes blazing. He took a step like he was going to hit him. He stopped, and his jaw clenched again. “Shut up.”

“No.” Nate was firm. He stepped in front of the television. He raised a finger in the air. “You need to give him this space.”

“This affects all of us.”

“It affects him the most,” Nate shot back. His eyes blazed right back at Logan, just not as much. He wasn’t as angry. “He won’t name us. He won’t put any of us in danger, and you know it. He’s taking the whole blame. I don’t even need to hear it to know I’m right.”

Mason’s voice filled the silence in the room. “ . . . I found statements on the computer there that showed a discrepancy, and it also showed—”

“You see that?” Nate turned and looked at the television. “I. He’s saying I. He’s not saying we or my name, your name. If you’re going to be angry, at least be angry for the real reason.”

Logan had grown silent, but flicked his eyes to Nate.

“You’re mad because he shut you out,” Nate murmured, almost too quietly for us to hear. He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing. “But that’s his way of protecting you, and you know it.”

Logan remained silent, his chest rising and falling as he breathed.

I sank down on one of the couches, placing my hands in front of my mouth. I couldn’t listen, but I couldn’t leave. He was doing this all on his own. My stomach twisted. He must’ve been so scared, but Nate was right. He was protecting us in his way.

I focused for a moment and finally realized the two reporters were helping him. They were flipping his story into something else, something where he was the victim, where Adam and his father were the bad guys.

Good! A part of me growled.

“You were never charged,” a reporter said to Mason.

Mason frowned at him. “What?”

The reporter’s voice sounded from behind the camera, “They can’t do an investigation if you were wrongfully picked up by your local police. It seems to me they did the right thing.”

Logan swore, sitting in the chair closest to the television. “They’re helping him.”

“That’s my fault.”

I closed my eyes. I knew Taylor’s voice, and it all started to make sense. She was wringing her hands together when I looked at her.

She flashed an apologetic smile. “I couldn’t not say anything.”

She turned to Logan, but I knew what she was going to say.

“You disappeared last night after we got here,” I said. “You called your dad, didn’t you?”

She jerked her head in an unsteady nod. “I had to.”

Logan was quiet again. She kept skirting her gaze to him, then back to me.

“This isn’t the first time an athlete has been in trouble,” she said. “My dad knows guys. They can pull some strings and get favors. I had to let him know ahead of time. He needed a chance to see if he could help. Mason deserved that.”