Removing my hand, I ran it back through my hair, undoing my hasty ponytail. "I have no ideas . . ." I murmured, closing my eyes.

I heard Denny sigh, and thought I heard him say, "Yeah, I know you don't."

Denny called Abby on the drive home. His face lit up as he talked to her. From the half of the conversation that I could hear, she didn't seem worried about Denny being with me. He told her that I'd had too much at the bar and he was taking me home. I wasn't sure what her reply was, but he laughed, and his eyes were clear and untroubled. Even though I was starting to feel a little queasy, seeing him happy made me happy.

The longer I sat still, the worse I felt. By the time Denny stopped the car, my stomach was churning. Feeling flushed and disgusting, I whimpered and leaned my head against the window. Denny shot me a concerned glance. "You okay?"

I shook my head and slapped my hand over my mouth. No, I was definitely not okay. Denny cursed and quickly exited the car. He sprinted back for me and helped me get out and stand up. My stomach lurched when I moved. "Denny," I murmured, "I don't feel good."

I stumbled and Denny swooped me into his arms. I clamped my mouth shut, begging for the nausea to stop. It didn't, though. Instead, it got stronger and stronger. Denny hurried us to the house, telling me, "I know you don't, Kiera. It will be okay, just hold on." Tears were leaking from my eyes as he squatted down to unlock the door-I really hated being sick.

Closing the front door with his foot, Denny rushed us upstairs. He set me down in the bathroom right as I lost control. Sinking to my knees, I noisily lost my stomach into the toilet. Denny sighed and patted my back. He removed my bag from my shoulder while I heaved a couple more times. As I laid my head on the seat, I could hear him moistening a towel. He handed it to me and I gratefully wiped my mouth with the warm cloth. "Thanks," I murmured, then I threw up again.

I felt like I was sick for hours. It never seemed to end. I was a sniffling, blubbering mess, but Denny stayed by my side. When there was nothing left in my stomach, I lay down on the cool bathroom tiles. They felt wonderful. As I closed my eyes, Denny whispered, "Kiera?"

I was so tired, I couldn't respond.

He let out a long, slow exhale as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I wanted to open my eyes to see his expression, but my eyelids felt like lead. I felt Denny's strong arms scooping me up again, then he slowly walked me into Kellan's and my bedroom and laid me on the bed. After he removed my shoes and socks, I buried myself into the covers; nothing had ever felt so incredible in all my life.

Denny leaned over me, tucking me in, then he hesitated; I could feel his presence above me. I again tried to open my eyes, but it was like they were glued shut. After another pause, I felt his lips lower to my hair. The tender gesture made me smile. He pulled away and I felt like he was going to leave me. I weakly reached out and grabbed his hand. I didn't want him to go. I didn't want to be alone like this.

"Stay," I croaked out. "Please."

Denny sighed again. "Yeah, I'll have to call Abby and let her know, but it's fine. I'll stay here if you need me to. I'll be in the next room if you need anything."

I nodded and released his hand. I could feel sleep creeping up on me, but Denny was still hovering, so I tried to push the feeling back. He watched me in silence for a long time, then he whispered, "I don't know what I feel for you, Kiera . . . other than . . . I care about you. I care if you're happy. I care if you're sad. I care if you're safe. And if that's love . . . then, yes, I guess I love you. I love you, but I'm not in love with you. . . . Does that make sense?"

It took a great deal of effort, but I twisted around and opened my eyes. He was giving me a soft smile . . . all three of him. I shut my eyes and nodded. It did make sense, even to my fuzzy brain. I loved him too, I just wasn't in love with him. He wasn't my heart and soul. He didn't consume every part of me. He wasn't Kellan.

Denny patted my leg, then left me. Just as sleep started claiming me, my phone rang. My bag was still in the bathroom, and I heard Denny stop and dig through it. Seconds later, he said, "Uh, Kiera . . . it's Kellan. Should I answer this?"

My eyes sprang open. Denny answering my cell phone late at night wouldn't look good. But not answering Kellan's call on the last night of my shift wouldn't look good either. Not only that, but Kellan and I were giving total honesty a try . . . so I really didn't have a choice. Gritting my jaw, I squeaked out, "Yes . . . please."

I heard Denny pick up the line. He said a few words in a low voice, then he came back into the bedroom. With a hand on my shoulder, he rolled me over. My stomach tilted again. "He, um, wants to talk to you."

I nodded, inhaling through my nose, out through my mouth. My shaky fingers brushed against Denny's as I took the phone from him. In an almost inaudible voice, I said, "Hello?"

"Kiera? Are you okay? Denny said you were sick."

There was a weird tone to Kellan's voice when he said Denny; not quite pain, not quite anger, but somewhere in between. "I'll be fine . . . I just . . . had a few too many shots at Pete's." My insides tightened even more just saying the word "shots."

Kellan let out an aggravated exhale. "I don't like you getting drunk when I'm not there to take care of you."

Without thinking, I told him, "It's okay, Denny's taking care of me."

Voice tight, Kellan replied, "Yeah, I know."

"Kellan, please don't worry," I murmured. "You know I love you. I married you, didn't I?"

Kellan laughed, the tension easing from his voice. I heard Denny leave the room, shutting my door behind him. I tried not to worry if that remark had hurt him. It shouldn't have. He'd just said he only felt friendship for me, after all.

I groaned into the phone as my stomach flip-flopped. "Kellan, I feel awful."

Kellan chuckled again. "Serves you right, drinking without me. And when I can't even take advantage of you too."

I smiled, wishing he could do to me what he did last night . . . Then my stomach lurched and I thought I might lose it in bed. No, no sexy time tonight. Breathing loudly through my mouth, I whimpered, "I think I'm going to be sick again."

Kellan's voice was calming as he told me, "No, you're not, sweetheart. You just need something else to focus on besides your stomach. Would you like it if I sang you to sleep?"

My grin was huge as I clenched my tummy tight. "I would love that," I told him.

A minute later, I could hear Kellan's guitar. Then his voice filled my ear, and Kellan started performing an acoustic set of all of my favorite D-Bags songs . . . just for me. The sensuous sound eased the distress in my belly, and my stomach suddenly felt a million times better. I wanted to listen to him all night long, but I succumbed to sleep and alcohol and nodded off into oblivion.

Chapter 6: Girl Time

I was parched when I woke up. Parched and confused. I couldn't remember leaving the bar. I remembered imbibing way too many drinks last night, then I remembered dancing to the band's music . . . but I couldn't remember how I'd gotten home. God, I really hoped I hadn't driven home. Kellan would be furious with me. I would be furious with me.

Thinking of Kellan sparked a vague memory of him singing to me, of the light twang of his guitar lulling me to sleep. I had no idea if that was a real memory, or if I'd dreamed it. It was peaceful, though, and I smiled as I rolled onto my back.

My stomach didn't like that-my head either.

I groaned and curled myself into a ball. I felt like I'd been brought back from the brink of death, and I silently swore to never drink again. I heard the sounds of someone else in the house and alarm shot through me. Who was here? I relaxed as I realized that Anna must have driven me home last night. There was no way she would have let me drive drunk.

Feeling disgusting, I made myself get out of bed. I just wanted to take a shower. I smelled like vomit. I stumbled a couple of steps as I yanked off my red Pete's shirt. Begging my stomach to stay at a tolerable level of nausea, I unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down. I had to steady myself against the wall to kick them across the room, toward the general vicinity of the laundry basket. Seeing hard strands of dried gunk in my hair, I groaned again. So gross.

I could hear my sister clunking up the steps as I unfastened my bra. I flicked it toward the basket and prayed that she was bringing me a glass of water-I desperately needed one. I tried to shimmy out of my underwear and flick them into the laundry, but part of the fabric got stuck under my foot. Too tired and sick to be coordinated, I lost my balance and fell on my ass. Hard.

As I let out a loud curse, my bedroom door rapidly swung open.

"Anna!" I exclaimed. Surprised and embarrassed, I tried to cover myself with my hands. "You're just as bad about knocking as Griffin! I'm not dress-"

I stopped talking as I stared up at the person standing in my doorway. It was not my sister. It wasn't a girl at all. "Denny? What are you-"

Denny's face was bright red and he immediately averted his eyes from my nak*d body. I felt red-hot. Oh my God, I'm such an idiot. Definitely done with drinking. Memories flooded into my brain as Denny stammered an apology and closed my door. Anna hadn't come to my rescue last night, Denny had. Anna hadn't watched me get sick, Denny had. And Anna hadn't tucked me into bed and stayed all night, just to make sure I was okay. Denny, my spectacular ex-boyfriend turned best friend, had done all of that. And I'd just flashed him. Damn it.

My stomach and head paling in comparison to my pride, I scrambled to my feet and grabbed a towel lying on the dresser. I opened the bedroom door and found Denny on the other side of it. He was still red, still not looking at me, but holding a glass of water in my direction. "Sorry," he muttered. "You sounded like you needed help."

I took the glass, grateful and mortified at the same time. "Thank you." I inhaled the water, and Denny cautiously peeked over at me. He was still dressed in the clothes I vaguely remembered him wearing last night-nice slacks and a sharp dress shirt. There weren't a lot of wrinkles in the shirt, so he must have taken it off before climbing into the lumpy futon that was in our spare room.

I handed him the empty glass, wishing I had more. Denny read my mind. "I have to go to work, but I'll get you another one before I leave. How do you feel?"

I closed my eyes. "Really, really embarrassed." I cracked one eye open. "I'm so sorry you walked in on that."

A tiny smile lifted Denny's lips, and he turned his head away from me. "I meant your stomach."

The heat in my cheeks flamed a little hotter. Right. Duh. "Oh, um, much better . . . thank you."

Denny nodded and started heading back downstairs to get some more of the cool, clean water from the fridge. As he walked away, I told him, "Thank you for watching over me last night. I really . . . I really appreciate it."

Turning his head, Denny gave me his signature grin. "Anytime, mate. I'm sure you would have done the same for me."

I gave him an enthusiastic nod. "I'd do just about anything for you, Denny."

The smile on his face fell some, and I immediately knew exactly what he was thinking-anything but remain faithful to me. He didn't verbalize it, though. Instead, he nodded and turned away to finish taking care of me. Closing my eyes, I laid my head against the door. Someday I would stop feeling guilty for betraying him, right? No, probably not.

I brushed my teeth while Denny returned with more water. Even though I left the bathroom door ajar, he knocked on it. After drinking my second glass, I felt a lot better. Well, I felt like I could shower without slipping or heaving. As Denny turned to leave, I asked him, "How are you getting your car?"

He shrugged. "I called Abby. She should be here in a minute."

Nodding, I again told him, "Thank you, Denny."

He told me it was nothing and gave me a small wave before turning to head downstairs. I thought I heard a car honking "goodbye" while I luxuriated in the steaming warm shower. I wasn't sure what Kellan would think about Denny spending the night with me, but then I remembered that he already knew. The thought made me smile. It felt good to be honest with him, to not have any secrets for once. And as I remembered Kellan singing me to sleep, I felt even better. He hadn't flown into a rage and hopped the first flight back into town. He'd trusted me, even in my drunken state, to remain faithful to him. And I had.