I wrap my arms around her and she clings to me—her nose against my chest, her hands curling around my arms. I stroke her hair and wait for her to break down, for these quiet tears to turn to sobs. But they don’t. She just holds on, her slow and steady breaths warming my chest.

“How did my life get so screwed up?”

“Are you okay?”

When she lifts her eyes to mine, there’s so much sadness in them that it makes my chest ache. “Can you forgive me for loving him too?” she asks. “Can we really survive this?”

Relief hits me center mass and splinters out through my limbs. Because there’s still a we. I bring her hand to my mouth and press my lips to her knuckles. If I could package the intensity of my love in a single gesture, if I could prove to her how hard I’m willing to hold on, she wouldn’t doubt us for a second.

When she settles her head against my chest again, I squeeze my eyes shut and say a prayer that I’ll be enough for her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper into her hair.

“FUCK, IT’S good to see you.” Asher pulls me in for a hug and slaps me on the back.

“You too.”

Maggie waits behind him, half sniffling, half smiling, and when Asher doesn’t release me soon enough for her liking, she pulls him off me and curls into me. “You scared the shit out of us,” she growls into my chest.

I grin and stroke her hair. “I think your girl likes me, Asher.”

He grunts, and Maggie says, “Shut up, Crane. You couldn’t handle me.”

“No doubt,” I mutter.

She pulls out of my arms, grabs me by the wrist, and leads me into the kitchen while Asher takes my bags up the stairs.

After pouring herself a shot of tequila, she hands one to me. I throw it back without question. I haven’t had anything alcoholic to drink since the night Hanna showed up at my house in LA, only half of her memory intact. I relish the warmth of the alcohol as it sinks to my stomach.

“What the f**k happened?” she asks. “How was it that you weren’t on that helicopter?”

Asher joins us and stands so Maggie’s back is against his chest. They’re so damn good for each other, it eats at me.

“I was supposed to be,” I begin. I pour myself another shot because, f**k, if anything calls for alcohol abuse, it’s finding out that you’re supposed to be dead and the woman you love—the woman who’s the only reason you aren’t dead right along with the rest of your tour—has moved on with another man. “I decided I couldn’t do the tour and chartered a private plane to get me to Janelle in India. She was at this spiritual retreat and I was staying there, but they don’t allow technology, so I…I had no idea the helicopter went down until someone arrived to deliver the news of my death to Janelle.”

“Where is Janelle?” Maggie asks.

“She’s still there. I told her to stay, and she was shaken enough that she didn’t feel like she wanted to be anywhere else.”

“Why couldn’t you do the tour?” Asher asks.

Maggie says, “Because of Hanna, I bet.”

I look to Asher, who shakes his head. He didn’t tell her.

“Why would you say that?” I ask Maggie.

“I know about you and Hanna. Everyone knows.” She digs through a stack of magazines and hands me one.

My gut burns when I see it. “Fucking privacy-invading ass**les,” I growl. My gaze snaps back to Maggie. “Max knows too?”

“Yeah,” Maggie says.

Then she smacks me on the right shoulder. “That’s for scaring me.” Then again on the left. “And that’s for screwing around with my sister and not even telling me about it.”

Asher grabs Maggie’s wrists and pulls her back against his chest. “Quit beating on the company.” Then to me, he says, “You can stay as long as you want. When will Collin get here?”

“Vivian’s bringing him in the morning.”

Maggie’s eyes fill. “That poor kid. I can’t imagine what a rollercoaster this has been for him.”

My throat is too thick, and I can’t risk speaking, so I only nod. Vivian said Collin never cried. He insisted Daddy wasn’t dead because Daddy would never leave him without saying goodbye.

One impulsive decision is the only reason my son still has his father, and that fact makes me feel so insanely helpless I want to scream.

“I’m ready for him to be here,” I finally say. “And thanks for letting us stay awhile. LA is a madhouse. Vivian’s been hounded by paparazzi since the helicopter went down.”

Asher nods. “Of course. You’re welcome as long as you want.”

We all say our goodnights, and the happy couple makes their way to their bedroom, leaving me with the bottle of tequila and memories of Hanna’s mouth under mine.

Five Days Before Hanna’s Accident

“STAY ONE more night?”

She rolls to face me and runs her fingers over my stubble. I need a shave, but I can’t bring myself to have a smooth face when Hanna’s around. She can’t keep her hands off my face when it’s a little rough.

“You’re sure you want to be with me before I’ve made my choice?”

My gut burns. Of course, I want her to make her choice now. I want to be the easy choice and for her to say she doesn’t need to think about it. But it’s not that simple. Hanna’s heart is too loyal for that, and that’s what I love about her, isn’t it? Her big heart. Her loyalty. And a goodness that runs so deep and so steady that, when she’s close, it becomes part of who I am.