“Yeah.” Pride oozed from every pore on him.

I nodded. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“Thanks…” Alec tipped his head toward me then started the engine. “And Fallon?”

I turned around.

“He’s lucky to have you too. Not many friends would have done what you did.”

“Friends.” I repeated, hating the word all over again. I had no business hating that word. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He drove off and left me staring at the road as cars passed by.

And things returned to normal.

Like I hadn’t been spending the past few days with Zane Andrews.

Like I didn’t just get yelled at by Jamie Jaymeson.

Like Alec Daniels hadn’t just driven me home.

The world didn’t stop and take notice.

Which gave me hope that they wouldn’t notice the meltdown at the beach or my involvement in it.

I slowly trudged to my house and opened the door. Mom was putting dishes away. I slammed the door behind me, tears welling in my eyes.

“Fallon?” She turned around and froze. “What’s wrong?”

And just like the girl I swore I would never be, I burst into tears and ran into my mom’s arms.

Chapter Eighteen

Zane

Saint: Talk to me.

Saint: Fallon…

Saint: I’m sorry.

Saint: We need to talk.

Saint: Look, ignore me all you want but I refuse to go away. I’m like a disease.

I stared down at my phone. In all my desperation, I was pretty sure I just told the girl I care about that I was like a disease. And I wasn’t even drunk. It was a completely sober text. Damn it.

Saint: But a good disease.

Shit. I just made it worse.

Saint: The kind you want?

Fallon: YOU ARE DRIVING ME INSANE! Name one disease that I would actually want, and I’ll talk to you.

I frowned down at my phone and quickly Googled diseases that were helpful to humans, naturally I got nothing, so I made one up.

Saint: Zanism. Heard girls get all hot and bothered, some even faint. Ever heard of it?

Fallon: Nope. Sorry.

Groaning, I stared up at her house. It had been seven days of ignored texts and phone calls.

Seven. Days.

I didn’t text the first night because I knew it was smart to let her cool off, but ever since then it had been nonstop.

I even went to her work.

But I could never catch her—which just meant I would have had a horrible career as a stalker.

I grimaced as I took in my black jeans and black hoodie. Okay so maybe I was taking things too far. Showing up at her house at ten at night fully aware that her dad shoots things and eats them.

And not just small things.

But human sized things.

So there was a huge chance he was going to shoot me in the face and then apologize for being trigger happy all the while telling his little girl Daddy would take care of things. Like disposing of the body. Or mounting my head on his wall.

Hell. I was sweating, and I wasn’t even inside the damn house yet!

I had no idea which room was hers.

I fired off another text.

Saint: The moon is pretty tonight.

Bingo. Blue curtains pulled back and then a window opened.

Fallon: Yup.

She lived in a two story, but the lower level wasn’t really high, and if I was able to stand on the wraparound porch, I’d be able to jump to the next level no problem.

I tucked my phone back into my jeans and then stood on the porch and pressed my palms against the shingles. With a grunt, I pulled myself up and managed not to get a sliver in my ass as I quietly shuffled across the roof and located her window.

Well, either she was going to scream, at which point her dad would come running and shoot me dead.

Or she’d push me out the window, where I’d fall a whole story and snap my neck, and end up dead.

Or, she might find some way to forgive me, and I wouldn’t die.

Two out of three. Not the best odds.

Definitely not the worst either.

I hopped in through her open window and froze.

Because I hadn’t factored in one scenario, one pivotal point that I probably should have focused on.

Fallon getting ready for bed.

Correction, Fallon changing for bed.

And Fallon.

In nothing but a sports bra and tight blue and black boy shorts, the kind that makes a girl’s ass look like a juicy apple you want to sink your teeth into.

I sucked in a few deep breaths while she stared me down.

Her face was full of complete shock, which of course quickly turned to anger, and then embarrassment as she moved her hands over her breasts and then lower and then, finally she stomped her foot and ground out. “What. Are. You. DOING?”

“Taking a walk on the beach?” I offered lamely, my eyes still glued to all the places they definitely should not be looking. Shit, she was beautiful, curvy for being so short. My hands twitched with the need to touch where her hips met ass, damn it, she was pretty. Really pretty. Not just cute. Pretty.

And I suddenly had a horrifying realization.

The pretty girl had experience.

The jackass didn’t.

Oh, hell.

This would, of course, happen to me.

Everything I want, tied up in a nice little package of temptation, and I might as well be in the Garden; look but don’t touch, touch and die.

“A walk.” She repeated. “I’m curious how this walk managed to detour into my bedroom.”

“A mystery of the universe, I suppose.”