How I had just allowed him to talk me into meeting with him on three separate occasions.

And there had been something altogether comfortable about letting him have that control, because I didn’t have to think or prepare—I just had to be. A perfect role for a first-time girlfriend of a hugely popular jock. I had been virtually invisible.

Until suddenly I wasn’t—because of the crash and the recovery, the scars and the shaved head. It had been as if he’d stepped out of the limelight and allowed me to take center stage, which I’d never even asked for. Which I’d never even wanted. Especially not for that.

I wasn’t that girl anymore, and tonight, I needed for him to know it.

He stood as if in a daze when I approached the table and then pitched forward to pull out my chair. Ever the gentleman. Adults loved him. His own parents worshiped him, just like everybody else in this damn town. Even my parents had loved him. Until he’d walked away so callously.

“Thank you,” I said clumsily.

He returned to his seat as his eyes greedily took me in. “You look great, Rachel.”

I dipped my head, feeling uncomfortable about the compliment. Even though I had selfishly wanted it. “Thanks.”

“I ordered you a beer. Hope that’s okay.” And it all came crashing back. How he’d always done things like that—things that I’d thought I liked—under the pretense of his taking care of me.

I felt my rage welling up. “What if I wasn’t in the mood for a beer today?”

“Shoot, you’re right.” His eyes widened in discomfort. “Sorry. Order whatever the hell you want.”

“I will, thanks,” I said, my eyes meeting his in a challenge.

He studied me from across the table, and I had trouble holding his gaze. I looked down at the bar menu in front of me.

“God, you’re so different, Rachel.”

“Of course I am.” My eyes slid back up to meet his. And suddenly I had a moment of vulnerability. Something he often brought out in me. “Is . . . is that a bad thing?”

“Hell no,” he said. “Just wasn’t sure what to expect after so long.”

I ordered a margarita from the server, and we sat in awkward silence for a few moments.

Tapping my fingers on the black tabletop, I said, “What did you need to say, Miles?”

“I just . . .” He adjusted the sleeves of his button-down. My thoughts immediately drifted to Kai and how differently he’d dressed from someone like Miles. Miles was so prep school, with his starched shirt and loose jeans. He wouldn’t be caught dead with any piercings on his body. I used to love that clean-cut look in a guy. Had sought it out, even.

What had changed in a couple weeks’ time?

I’d gotten it on with a bad-boy musician with more holes in his ears than in mine, and he’d made me feel damn good. He’d made me forget. So fucking what?

Kai was somewhere in this casino working one odd job or another, and I forced my gaze back to Miles. I needed to be present no matter how much I was fighting it. The dread of what Miles was about to say was difficult to tamp down. And the longing to meet Kai’s gaze—to have him silently tell me all would be okay—before Miles got on with it was tugging at me.

“Could you listen to me first without interrupting?” Miles said, his voice low, timid even.

I started to protest and tell him where to stick it, but he cut me off by saying, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to get it all out. And I want to. Please.”

I nodded and then waited for him to begin, all the while scanning the bar area, hoping to see a comforting face. But all I saw were drunk guys and hard-up girls. And it occurred to me that on any other night during college, those girls would have been me. Just looking for a good time for a couple of hours.

“Listen, Rachel,” Miles said. My eyes sprang back to his. “What I did to you was wrong. So damn wrong. And I’d never make any excuses about it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping his apology would finally register. I’d wanted to hear it for so long that now the words just sounded hollow in my ears.

“But I need you to understand what was going on in my head at the time.” He took a quick sip of beer, maybe for courage. “I just . . .”

Just get it out already was the phrase screaming inside my head. So I could get the hell out of there and do whatever I needed to do to lose myself. To forget the ache in my heart.

“Look, I though maybe I could make it up to you somehow. See if we still had what it took . . . to date again. That’s one of the reasons why I kept asking to see you.”

Anger lapped at my neck and heat crawled across my cheeks. “I’m pretty sure you don’t get to make that decision alone, dill weed.”

“I know that, okay?” he said, clenching his teeth. “You promised not to say anything until I was done.”

I gave a curt nod. “Whatever. Go on.”

“See, before the accident, I was already questioning our relationship,” he said, looking away from me. Like a goddamn coward. “Wondering how to break it off.”

I sucked in a deep breath. That certainly was news to me.

I hadn’t been expecting that confession, and it felt like a hard slap across the face.

An old wound being ripped open.

Was his damn promise ring some last-ditch effort to keep me happy? Fucking promise ring. What a crock. A racket. A bucket load of shit. So glad that puppy had been lost after the accident.

I was so stunned I didn’t even know how to arrange my face. So I just sat there, unblinking. Unable to move my lips into any semblance of words.

Chapter Nineteen

Kai

I was filling in for a cashier who’d called in sick at the casino that day and only had about an hour left on the clock. My father had looked impressed when I arrived ten minutes early for my shift. I wasn’t about to fuck around where the casino’s money was concerned, even though I was bored stiff and my fingers were numb from counting out change.

Rachel had slept almost until morning in my room the previous night, and when she awoke, we both agreed to be more careful. I had no clue what in the hell we were doing. All I knew was that it felt damn good.

I figured it was nice for her, too. Probably in a different way. This is what she’d been doing with random guys for the past three years. But I knew we shared something more—a history. She loved me like a brother. Okay, maybe not like a brother anymore. Maybe more like a guy friend.

I still thought she was only using me instead of going out to the local bar to work out her issues or whatever the hell it was that she’d been doing with those guys. And I was fine with that. It was going to hurt like a bitch at the end of the summer when all of this ended, but at least I’d have those memories to hold on to.

Her soft and smooth skin. How she watched me when I touched her. The excitement in her eyes when I took control. How she thrilled at taking it back. Watching her shudder when she came. The way her tits were perfectly round and full in my hands.

She’d have no clue I was thinking or feeling any of this, and it would remain that way. She probably figured this was what I did with all the girls I’d been with. Except she’d be so wrong.

I didn’t savor or revere those girls or even remember some of their names. But I didn’t want to give Rachel the impression that I liked being with her too much—she might pull away if she knew. I needed to act natural and confident like I always had around the opposite sex.

So when this super hot chick headed toward me at the cashier’s counter, I gave her a good look up and down. I tried to push the image of Rachel far away. “What can I do for you?”

“Lots of things.” She hesitated a moment while allowing her gaze to roll over me. “But first I need to cash these in.”

She handed me a pile of ten-dollar chips through the Plexiglas window.

“Been playing some roulette?”

“Yep, been playing lots of games.” She was full-on flirting with me now. And I was all for getting my mind off Rachel, until I looked over her shoulder and saw Miles heading straight to the bar. He looked like he was alone, and I wondered what in the fuck he was doing here.

He stopped briefly to talk to Shane, who was on security duty tonight. Shane met my gaze across a row of Lucky Seven slot machines and gave me a firm nod.

“Is everything okay?” the blond in front of me asked.

“Everything’s cool. Sorry about that.” I handed her the cash and turned to break open a new stack of one-dollar bills, essentially giving her the message that our little flirting session was over. She huffed before walking away, and I blew out a breath of my own.

Shane strode toward me and stuck his head in the window before the next customer could step up. “Rachel’s meeting Miles at the bar tonight.”

I clenched a row of hundred-dollar chips as my entire body tensed.

“What the fuck for?”

“Calm down, big brother,” he said quiet enough for only me to hear. “She told Dakota that if she was going to meet him again, it would be in a public place close to where her friends were.”

My shoulders instantly unwound. She wanted the security of her friends in case things went south fast.

I raised an eyebrow. “And how is it that you know this when I live with the girl?”

Shane looked momentarily guilty and then shrugged. “Just ran into Dakota. She told me to look out for Rachel. My shift’s over soon anyway.”

“Yeah, mine, too,” I said, looking at the giant clock behind me. “Meet you in the bar in a few.”

After he moved away, I called up the next customer, an older gentleman with some five-hundred-dollar chips. Man, the amount of money that filtered through this place was mind-boggling. I made sure to concentrate on my task instead of on the douche bag at the bar. I didn’t want to count the bills wrong or make any other stupid mistakes that would get back to my father. He’d hand me my ass on a silver platter.

In between customers, I saw Rachel enter the bar, practically taking all the air in the room with her. I’d rarely seen her dressed up and—goddamn—certainly never in a sexy-ass dress and fuck-me-now heels. My stomach clenched painfully knowing she’d worn that outfit for him. But could I blame her? Who wouldn’t want to look her best when meeting up with an ex? Unless it was an ex you gave two shits about getting back together with.

Fuck, was that what this was about? Was she hoping for reconciliation? And how about Miles?

And that’s when I saw her—this blond chick with bright-red lipstick sitting at the roulette table not far from the bar. Miles made eye contact with her a couple of times as if he knew her.

Had he brought along a date for his meeting with Rachel? What a stupid-ass motherfucker. Sure, I was relieved that he probably had no intention of getting back together with Rachel, but my protective instinct had now kicked in full force.

Rachel had taken a seat across from Miles, and I could see only the back of her head and her profile when she turned her face to briefly look around. Was she searching for her friends? I noticed how she clenched her fists and bit down on her lip, and damn, I hated that Miles made her so apprehensive.

I could barely keep my eyes on the customers, but I forced myself to look down at my cash drawer. As soon as there was a lull in the line, my gaze returned to them.

At one point, Miles reached across the table as if to comfort her, but Rachel moved her hand beneath the table and kept her body stiff and upright. I could see the tension rolling off of her as Miles kept talking, making his point with his fingers, and then finally letting his head drop into his hands.

When his head was down, I saw her swipe at the corner of her eye, like she was afraid he’d noticed that she’d been moved to tears. She was trying to be so strong in front of him, and I badly wanted to punch the shit out of him like I’d done that day after the accident.

But I needed to remind myself that this talk between them was necessary for resolution. Just like it was essential for me to see how emotionally unavailable she continued to be. How much leftover baggage she still had with this guy.

Besides, she only liked that I got her off.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But maybe after this meet-up with Miles, Rachel would finally be able to shake the influence he continued to have over her. It was the same power she held over me. The power to destroy me with one word. One look.

Maybe there was that one person who could forever haunt you. For her, it would be Miles. And for me, it would be Rachel. But there was no way I was turning back now, because the reality of having Rachel’s body in my arms was so much better than the fucking fantasy of having her heart.

So I needed to keep up appearances. Continue being the reckless dude who messed around with girls. And I’d be that for her for as long as she needed me to be.

Even if it broke me.

Chapter Twenty

Rachel

“We were talking about our future, thinking about colleges, and I was wondering whether we’d really last, you know?” Miles said. I was having trouble concentrating on his actual words. I was too busy trying to remember what it had been like between us. What it had really been like. On the inside. In my gut.

Had I been happy? Had I felt whole when I was with him? Hadn’t I lain awake at night wondering when I’d finally get a backbone and become the person I was supposed to be?

I remembered admiring Dakota and Kai in those days. Not because they came from a close family. Not because they were good-looking and had loads of money.

But because both were so confident and self-assured. Even when Kai was fucking up and getting in trouble, he did it with finesse. Like he knew exactly what he was getting himself into and could remain in control. I wanted that self-possessed certainty. That poised surety. I was like some bumbling fool next to the two of them.