As he fell silent, Gin found her own eyes pricking with tears, and then her throat began to hurt from her trying to swallow without making a gulping sound.

“You can call me,” he said roughly. “Anytime. I know you and I haven’t made sense. We’re bad for each other in all the ways that count, but you can call me. Day or night. No matter where you are, I’ll come for you. I won’t ask for any explanations. I won’t yell at you or berate you. I won’t judge you—and if you insist, I won’t tell Lane or anybody else.”

Samuel T. moved to the side and took his cell phone out of the pocket of his slacks. “I’m going to start sleeping with this left on from now on. No questions asked, no explanations demanded, no talking during or afterward. You call me, you text me, you say my name in the middle of a party, and I’m there for you. Are we clear?”

As a tear escaped down her cheek, he brushed it away, and his voice cracked. “You’re better than this. You deserve better than this. Your family’s glorious past is not worth a man hitting you in the present just because you’re afraid you won’t be anything without the money. You’re priceless, Gin, no matter what’s in your bank account.”

Now he was the one pulling her in and holding her to his chest.

Beneath her ear, the beating of his heart just made her cry more.

“Take care of yourself, Gin. Do whatever you need to do to make yourself safe …”

He just kept saying those words in an endless stream, as if he were hoping the repetition might get through to her.

When she finally sat up, he took his handkerchief out of his back pocket and pressed it to her cheeks. And as he stared at her with sad eyes, she found it was hard to believe that after everything they’d been through, he was there for her like this.

Then again, maybe everything they’d been through was the explanation.

“So what’s the second thing you wanted to say,” she murmured looking down at their feet.

When he didn’t immediately respond, she glanced back over at him—and recoiled.

His eyes had grown cold and his body seemed to change even as he didn’t shift at all.

“The second is …” Samuel T. cursed and let his head fall back. “No, I think I’ll keep that to myself. It’s not going to help this situation.”

But she could guess what it was. “I love you, too, Samuel.”

“Just think about how strong you are. Please, Gin.”

After a moment, he reached out and moved that big diamond around so it was hidden. Then he brought her wrist up and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “And remember what I said.”

Getting to his feet, he showed her his phone again. “Always on. No questions asked.”

With a last look at her, he put his hands in his pockets and walked away, a solemn figure bathed in the peachy light of the lampposts.

And then he was gone.

Gin stayed where they had sat together for so long, the night air turned cold enough to raise goose bumps on her forearms.

Yet she found it impossible to go home.

FORTY-TWO

As Edward said the words in the middle of the busy restaurant, he was amazed at how good they felt. It was a simple chain of syllables, nothing too fancy vocabulary-wise, but the admission was a tremendous one.

I’m in love with somebody.

And actually, he’d already told Sutton the truth of it all. At the business center after they’d made love. He’d just done it so softly, she hadn’t heard the words.

In response, Shelby looked around at the other diners. The waitress. The people behind the counter and the ones cooking in the back. “Is she the reason you wouldn’t … you know, get with me?”

“Yes.” He thought of those nights they’d spent side by side in that bed. “But there was another reason, too.”

“What’s that?”

“I know what you’re doing with me. I remember what your father was like. Sometimes we do things over, you know? When we feel like we didn’t get them right the first time.”

Hell, it was the story of him and his brothers and their father. If Edward was brutally honest with himself, he had always wanted to save his siblings from the man, but the damage had been done anyway. Their father had had that much power, at once absent, and at the same time, totally controlling.

And violent in a cold way that was somehow scarier than outbursts of yelling and throwing things.

“I’ve done that myself,” he said quietly. “Actually, I’m still doing it—so you and I are the same, really. We’re both saviors looking for a cause.”

Shelby was quiet for so long, he started to wonder if she was going to walk out or something.

But then she spoke up. “I took care of my father not because I loved him, but because if he killed himself, what was I going to do? I had no mother. I had nowhere to go. Living with his drinking was easier than facing the streets at twelve or thirteen.”

Edward winced as he tried to imagine her as a little girl with no one to care for her, desperately attempting to fix an adult’s addiction as a survival mechanism for herself.

“I’m sorry,” Edward blurted.

“For what? You had nothing to do with his drinkin’.”

“No, but I had everything to do with being drunk around you. And putting you in a position you’re too goddamn good at—”

“Don’t you take—”

“Sorry, darn—”

“—my Lord’s name in vain.”

“—good at.”

There was a pause. And then they both laughed.

Shelby grew serious again. “I don’t know what else to do with you. And I also hate the suffering.”

“That’s because you’re a good person. You’re a really, really GD good person.”

She smiled. “You caught yourself.”

“I’m learning.”

Their food arrived, the chicken nestled in baskets lined with red and white paper, the French fries thin and hot, the waitress asking if they needed more soda.

“I am starving,” Edward remarked after they were alone with their food.

“Me too.”

As they set to eating, they fell into silence, but it was the good kind. And he found himself feeling so glad they hadn’t ever had sex.