Another barking cough tore past Emily's throat, her eyes following Dillon as he rounded the taxi after closing her door. Forget the fact that Gavin was going to be there tonight, she felt like shit, and her body ached from head to toe. Gavin would only bring on a different kind of pain for her at this point. She couldn't believe she had allowed Dillon to talk her into going, but something in his unrelenting persistence and intolerant tone brooked no argument.

Already intoxicated, he haphazardly slid into the backseat and let the driver know their destination.

After digging in his pants for his wallet, he looked to Emily. "Oh, come on, babe. You've got to be feeling better by now."

Between the smell of alcohol lingering on his breath and the nausea from medication steadily pumping through her system, she was sure she was going to throw up right there and then.

"No, Dillon, I don't feel better," she sighed, leaning her head against the window. A crowded bar was the last place she wanted to be right now. "I don't see what the big deal is if I didn't come."

Shaking his head, he scooted over and draped his arm around her shoulder. "It's Trevor's birthday - that's the big deal."

"I already spoke with him earlier. I told him that I'm sick and wouldn't be able to go." After another coughing fit, she added, "He was perfectly fine with it."

"Well, don't forget, I leave for Florida tomorrow morning for a few days." He pulled her closer, positioning her legs across his lap. "You don't want to hang out with me before I go, do you?"

"You know that has nothing to do with it," she replied, coughing. "We could've stayed home and hung out. Plus, why the hell you want to go out tonight when your flight leaves so early is beyond me."

He leaned into her ear and slowly smoothed his hand under her skirt, his fingers making small circles against the lace of her panties. "I can handle an early flight, babe. Let's just hope you can handle me once we get back to my place."

Attempting to push his hand away from her, shock crossed her features. "You don't really think you're getting laid tonight, do you?" she asked, sliding away from him, amazed that he could possibly be thinking about that.

She was sick, and he knew it.

In one sweeping move, he pulled her by her arm, yanking her toward him. This time he anchored one of his legs over hers. "I know I'm getting laid tonight, Em," he breathed out, sliding his tongue across her neck as he dipped his hand back under her skirt. "I'll be gone for a few days. I need a little bit to hold me over."

"Get off me, Dillon. You're drunk already!" She backed away, trying to ignore the driver now staring at them through the rearview mirror. Taking extra measure to make sure Dillon wouldn't come at her again, she let loose a gurgling cough in his direction, hoping the microscopic germs made their way straight into his nostrils.

Unfortunately, it didn't stop him from trying again. Fortunately, her reprieve from his drunken attempt on taking her right there in the taxi came when his phone started ringing. After pinning her with a cold look, Dillon pulled it from his pocket to take the call. Emily slid across the seat, making sure to stuff her coat and purse between them.

Letting out a sigh, she tried to ignore his conversation as he laughed with whoever was on the other end. However, she couldn't ignore the growing anxiety steadily filtering its way through her veins, knowing she was about to spend the evening in the presence of Gavin. After their last encounter, the past several weeks had been nothing short of...difficult for her. Though she had plunged head first into her new teaching job, apartment hunting with Dillon, and planning for the wedding, Gavin was there in the back of her thoughts like a lingering beautiful shadow - never leaving, never letting go, just there.

She was hurt and confused and reminders of him were abundant. Certain songs she knew he liked stopped her dead in her tracks when she heard them. Thoughts of him constantly distracted her from what she was doing. She'd found herself becoming unproductive in a heartbeat when he clouded her mind. Her overall disposition was overtly strained. He stimulated her emotions...her nerves...and all her senses. She may have wanted Gavin, but she knew she shouldn't have these reckless feelings for him, especially a few weeks before her wedding. She hated the fact that she felt powerless around him. That he resurrected feelings that needed to stay buried deep inside. That he made her want to take risks on him - on them. That he made her question things like her upcoming marriage to the only love she'd ever known - the only man that had ever been there for her. Gavin did this to her. She did this to her. Fate did this to her. She didn't know who or what to blame, but the one thing she did know was the whole situation was tearing her apart.

Pulling up to the sports bar on the Lower West Side, she drew in a deep breath and stepped out from the taxi into the crisp October air. It would be an understatement to say she wasn't looking forward to tonight.

Gavin saw Emily the moment she walked in. It was impossible for him not to. Even among the frenzied crowd, she shone bright, like a blazing star illuminating itself in a dark sky.

His dark sky.

The invisible wire tightened around his throat, rendering him nearly breathless. She looked incredible - clad in a black skirt, sexy knee-high boots, and a tight green sweater that enhanced every curve that God himself had graced upon her. Gavin had never known a woman so beautiful. He'd sunk himself into work the past several weeks, trying not to think of her. His intentions were to obliterate her completely from his thoughts, but the more he had tried, the more she took root in his mind.

She wasn't supposed to be there tonight - at least, that's what Trevor told him. Now, as he watched her weave through the ocean of bodies in the sports bar, it suddenly felt as though his heart was slamming its way out of his chest. His body pulsed with energy, colliding with his desire, want, and need for her. The connection and pull she extracted from him - even from the first time he'd laid eyes on her - still amazed him. In the seconds before she and Dillon approached, Gavin's voice of reason piped up, telling him to let it go and be done with her. But, as much as he wanted to listen to it, his head was already in overdrive. She was the recipient of all his pent-up emotions - for she alone stoked all his fires. She was nothing short of agonizingly addictive to him. Gavin's eyes found hers, but she looked away, essentially ignoring his very existence. After shaking hands with Dillon, Gavin watched as she walked over to Trevor.

"You made it," Trevor hooted, leaning in to hug Emily. "Feeling better, I assume?"

Backing away from him with a weak smile on her face and a cough to top it off, she answered, "No, I don't feel better, so you might not want to hug me." Trevor smiled and pulled her into his chest despite her warning. She looked up to him. "Trevor, I'm serious. I'm as contagious as they come right now."

He squeezed her tighter and laughed. "Em, I have enough alcohol running through me right now to kill off any fucking germs you might spread."

Managing a laugh, she returned his hug. "Alright then, but you asked for it." He smiled at her. "Happy birthday, big man. What's the number tonight, the big three-zero?"

"Not quite. The ripe young age of twenty-nine," he answered, snaking his arm around Fallon's waist. He flicked his eyes down to her. "And what a year it's gonna be."

Fallon leaned up to kiss him and then looked at Emily. "I'm a lucky girl."

"You are a lucky girl, and he's a lucky guy, too. Don't forget that," Emily smiled. "I love the new color."

Fallon fluffed her crimson hair to the side. "Do you? I'm not used to one color at a time."

"I do. It's becoming of you." Emily looked around. "Where's Olivia and Tina?"

"Apparently, you're not the only one sick in Manhattan tonight," Trevor answered. "Tina didn't feel good, so Olivia took her home."

Emily nodded and settled in a seat next to Dillon. He was ordering a few shots and steadily on his way into deeper alcohol oblivion.

"If you'll excuse me," Trevor continued, "I'm gonna go get my sweat on with my hot lady here."

Emily watched as Trevor and Fallon disappeared onto the dance floor.

Over the next half hour, Emily and Gavin exchanged nothing more than the occasional apprehensive glance. She listened to him and Dillon talk about baseball. The Yankees had made it into the playoffs, and game three was currently being displayed across several large flat-screen televisions throughout the bar. Their rival - go figure - was the Baltimore Orioles.

Emily had to smile at that.

Unable to numb her anxiety with alcohol because of the medication she was on, she endured the situation as best as she could - paying no attention to either man. As she accepted a glass of ice water from the bartender, her cell phone lighting up in her purse caught her attention.

Pulling it out, she noticed it was a text from a number she didn't know: I must admit...you play the game very well...

With furrowed brows, having no idea who it was, she texted back: Who is this?

After a few seconds, the reply: However...your "birds" have no clue how to play the game...so it all evens out...

Snapping her head up in Gavin's direction, her heart skipped a beat. Though he was perched on the opposite side of Dillon, he was in Emily's line of sight. Staring at her, his smile was wide and inhibited. She flicked her eyes in Dillon's direction. It was obvious that he was paying no mind to her or Gavin, clearly more intoxicated than when they first arrived. He was in the midst of a conversation regarding the game with another patron as they laughed and shared a few shots together.

Another incoming text vibrated her phone: Take a look at the score...

Nervous, she looked over at Gavin again.

Smiling, he leaned his chin in the palm of his hand and gestured to one of the televisions with his bottle of beer.

Quickly averting her eyes to the screen where it was highlighting a Yankees lead by five, she let out the breath she was holding. She looked back to him where yet another smile broke out across his face.

Emily texted back: How did you get my number?

His reply: Admit that your birds don't have a chance against my Yankees...and perhaps I will release that information...

Coughing, she cocked a brow and looked at him.

He smiled and casually shrugged.

"The nerve," she mumbled under her breath as she texted him back: I will do no such thing...

Her eyes shifted to his again. With a perplexed look on his face, he smiled, and she watched as he swiftly ran his fingers across his screen.

He texted: Then you're left with your original assumption of my personality...I'm a stalker, and you're my beautiful prey. Boo.

Shaking her head at the true wiseass he really was, curiosity got the better of her: Fine, my birds aren't playing their best tonight...

Sighing, she heard Gavin let out a full throaty laugh.

He replied: I'll make it simple...your team S-U-C-K-S. And since you wouldn't admit that your birds have no chance against my beloved Yankees, I have the sudden urge to make you...beg. Kinky, right? I'll be waiting for your response...

Taking a sip of her water, she scoffed. "He's seriously lost his mind."

She watched as a superior smile washed over his face.

She began to text him back, letting him know she wouldn't beg for an answer, but he sent another: I decided I'm in a generous mood tonight since my team is whipping some serious ass. Forget about you begging me...which I know you would've...text back the magic word, and I will relinquish the information you so desire. Clue...it starts with pretty...

She rolled her eyes and texted him back: Please...

His answering text was quick: I knew I could get you to beg...Molly.

Now she couldn't help but laugh. Her text was a little more demanding this time: Emily to you, "stalkerboy". You didn't get me to beg for anything. I want the information.

Oh, his smile was teetering between lewd and mischievous when she looked in his direction now.

He responded: You begged, doll, and I'm pretty sure...no, I'm positive...I could get you to beg for plenty of things if given the proper chance to do so. Plenty. But, to answer your question, Olivia gave me your number. I would assume my source doesn't come as a shock...

She sighed: I disagree with the begging part. I call it being courteous. Not sure how to answer your second statement except to say that you're an arrogant bastard. No, I'm not shocked about Olivia being your partner in crime...the both of you are certifiably nuts...

Between becoming consumed in her text session with Gavin and the now roaring Yankees fans in the background, Emily didn't notice that Dillon had disappeared. However, she couldn't help but notice Gavin staring directly at her with only a barstool separating them now. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat as he closed that distance by sliding over into the seat next to her. Propping his elbow on the bar, his smile was no less cocky than before.

"So, says the 'arrogant bastard,'" he began, shifting his body to face her, "are you still going to deny that I made you beg?"

The familiarity of his humor-filled voice sent chills down her back. With a smirk, she let out an exasperated breath. "You're relentless."

"Always," he answered evenly. Taking a long pull from his beer, his gaze never left hers. "I figured it was a good way to break the tension hanging in the air."

"You have a funny way of breaking tension, Gavin."

"And why do you say that?"

"Let's see...trying to get me to admit that I was begging." She answered, crossing her legs, and then quickly added, "Which I wasn't."

"You begged, doll, but I'll let it go."

Laughing, she shook her head. "I give up; you win."

He smiled, and for a minute, he let himself drown in her, getting lost in the memory of her touch. "In all seriousness, I figured my little texting skit might go over well," he said as his eyes shimmered with something akin to an apology behind them. "I'm hoping it did at least."

He was right; the tension that had built up inside her had seemed to dissipate. Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded. "It did."

Slowly, he slid a bottle cap over to her and smiled. "Truce?"

Looking down at the smooth-lacquered bar, she picked up the cap and rolled it in her fingers with a weak smile on her lips. In whatever way she could take it, she needed to be right with him - needed to be right with them. Emily knew fate wasn't playing fair with either one of their hearts. Fate had broken all the rules in their case, creating a no-holds-barred wicked game that was demolishing both of their inner beings. Tugging at their deepest thoughts with strength unlike any other, it was bringing the strongest of men down to his knees and had her questioning her decisions - but she wasn't about to let it destroy either of their lives any further.

Drawing in another deep breath, she met his gaze and nodded. "Yes, Gavin...truce."

As the relief soaked through his veins, Gavin analyzed her face, hoping to burn the vision of her into his memory. It'd felt like forever since he'd seen her. "So how've you been?"

"I've been doing okay. You?"

"Yeah, I've been alright," he lied smoothly, praying she couldn't tell. She gave him a weak smile that had him second-guessing his acting abilities. "So Olivia told me that since Dillon's leaving on business tomorrow, she's your official date to my mother's fundraiser this weekend."

"Yes, she is. Tina's going away to her grandparents' home in Texas, so we figured we'd make it a certified ladies' night together."

"Very cool," he smiled and leaned back in his chair. "I'm sure you'll have a great time."

Smiling, she let out a cough. "Well, I'm looking forward to it."

"You don't sound good," he said, placing the back of his hand against her forehead. She flinched away slightly but smiled. "You actually feel feverish."

"You can tell by feeling my forehead, huh?" She brought her hand up to her forehead. She then started rummaging through her purse, looking for Tylenol. "Now your resume consists of business mogul, nanny, and doctor, too."

Laughing, he shrugged. "The nanny part coincides with the doctor part. I've watched Timothy and Theresa a few times while they were sick." He took a swig of his beer. "You shouldn't be out, feeling the way you do."

She sighed. "Yeah, I know I shouldn't be." He looked at her questioningly. Popping the medicine into her mouth, she downed some water. "Long story."

Though he had a pretty good idea who made her come out, Gavin didn't probe.

Staring at him, curiosity got the better of Emily as she wondered why he was there alone. "So, uh, what happened to that girl you brought with you to the engagement party?"

She wasn't you... "She moved to the West Coast to be closer to her family," he replied, the lie tumbling from his mouth effortlessly.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that."

"Nah, it's no biggie."

With that, Trevor and Fallon approached the two of them, both sweat-riddled from their dancing.

"Country," Fallon breathed out heavily, wiping the back of her neck, "take a walk with me to the restroom. I need to fix my makeup that I'm pretty damn sure is all over the place right about now."

"Sure," Emily said, rising from the barstool. She looked at Gavin. "Could you keep an eye on my purse for me?"

He nodded, but Trevor yanked it from the bar and slung it across his body. "I'll keep an eye on it. Blake might steal some freakish keepsake of you for himself."

They all laughed, and the two women started heading toward the restrooms.

As Emily weaved her way through the endless amount of fans celebrating the Yankees win, she spotted Dillon playing a game of pool. He was hanging out with a cluster of men and women across the bar. She could tell it was taking all of his efforts to remain standing upright as his body swayed back and forth while lining up a shot. A ripple of laughter washed over the crowd when he sank the eight ball.

"So much for spending time with me," she mumbled.

Fallon pulled the restroom door open, and they walked in. "I know I don't know Dillon that well, Country, but I'm assuming he forced you to come out tonight."

"Well, I could've said no," she replied as she observed her appearance in the mirror.

Ripping a piece of paper towel from the dispenser, Fallon doused it with some water and started wiping her face and arms. The corner of her mouth turned up a smirk. "Right, but you didn't."

Emily shrugged. "I felt bad about not coming. I love Trevor."

Fallon tossed the paper towel into the trash and looked at Emily, her gray eyes twinkling with concern. "And Trevor loves you, but you need to find your voice with your man. Put him in his place when need be."

Emily studied her for a second, feeling slightly confused. "I think I do put him in his place, Fallon."

Cocking her head to the side, Fallon approached her and placed her hand on her shoulder. "I'm not trying to start anything with you, Country. I just think you could be a little tougher with him, that's all."

A faint smile tugged at Emily's lips, but she didn't answer.

Fallon grabbed for her hand and led them out. Upon emerging, a large group had gathered just outside the door, making it difficult for them to maneuver their way through the crowd.

"Shit," Fallon said. "I think I just got my damn period. Go ahead back to the bar with the guys. I'll be right out."

Emily nodded and tried to make her way through the crowd.

"Looks like you're stuck here," a man standing next to her yelled over the blaring music. Emily's eyes shifted to his smile, his height intimidating her as he brushed his hand over his buzzed head. "I could lift you up and carry you to where you have to go."

"Umm, no thanks. I'll make it through," Emily laughed as she continued her attempt to squeeze her way through the other patrons.

"Eric," he said, extending his hand while trying to also dodge the masses.

She shook it. "Emily. It's nice to meet you."

"Well, Emily, I'm here with a few friends if you want to come to our table and have a drink with us. They're right over there," he said, gesturing to a booth a few feet away. "If we make it over there," he laughed. "It doesn't look like we'll be moving too far in all of this."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm here with my fiance."

"Getting married? Very nice," he smiled. "When's the big day? Not a Halloween wedding, right?"

Emily laughed. "No, but that would've been a cool idea." She stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to see over the still lingering crowd. "It's November 24th."

"Awesome," he replied. "Can I see your ring?"

Emily thought his request was odd, but nonetheless, she figured she might be able to use it to her advantage. "How's about we do a little bartering here, Eric?" she smiled. "I'll let you take a look at my ring if you part this group like the Red Sea, so I can get back to my friends."

"Sounds like a deal," he laughed. Emily lifted her hand, and he took it in his. With widened eyes, his mouth hung ajar. "That's a fucking rock if I've ever seen one. Well, congratulations to you and your fiance. I wish you both - "

"Emily," Dillon interrupted, his voice filled with anger. He pinned her with a hard look, and she shivered. Pulling her hand away from Eric, she started to speak, but Dillon directed his attention to the other man. "Why the fuck are you grabbing my fiancee's hand?"

"Dillon," Emily nervously blurted out. "He was going to - "

"Shut the fuck up, Emily," he growled. "Answer my fucking question, man. Why the fuck were you touching her?"

Eric narrowed his eyes. "Chill out, buddy. I asked if I could see her engagement ring."

Without another word spoken, Eric's head flew back when Dillon punched him square in the nose, his blood spewing on Emily's sweater. With a gasp, Emily's heart tripled over in her chest as she watched Eric's body slump against the wall. Stumbling to his feet, Eric rubbed at his nose for a second and then started swinging wildly at Dillon.

Fallon walked out from the bathroom, her eyes wide with shock. "Holy shit!"

"Dillon!" Emily cried out as he lunged toward Eric, tackling his body against the wall with brutal force.

"I'm going to get Trevor and Gavin!" Fallon yelled, pushing her way through the crowd, which now formed a circle around the two men.

Emily wept as she screamed out Dillon's name, shock tearing through her system while the two men continued their venomous onslaught against one another. As the bloodthirsty patrons watched the fight, roaring like caged animals, Emily's body was pushed and pulled in every direction during the hysteria. Within a few seconds, two monster-sized bouncers pushed through the growing crowd, looking like they were undoubtedly ready to brawl. With little effort, one bouncer had Dillon strung up by his arm, pulling him off Eric, while the other yanked Eric away from Dillon. They yelled for everyone to clear the area or else they, too, would be thrown out. With their warning, the crowd descended back into the bar, still riled up from the madness.

As the crowd thinned, Fallon, Trevor, and Gavin came into view, both men wearing heated looks on their faces with Fallon appearing just as shocked.

"Oh God, Dillon, you're bleeding," Emily cried out.

Gavin looked to Dillon, his tone harsh. "What the fuck happened?"

"She fucking happened! Get your fucking shit, Emily!"

Something flared in Dillon's eyes - something Emily didn't dare to question in that moment. She'd never seen him look so dark and full of vengeance. With her body shaking, she watched as one of the bouncers feverishly escorted him out of the bar by his elbow.

Still crying, Emily came to a stop, her hand rushing to her mouth as she frantically looked around. "My purse. Who has my purse?"

"I do," Fallon said, quickly handing it to her.

When they emerged from the bar, Emily found Dillon pacing back and forth in the parking lot, both of his hands gripping his hair.

"Dillon," Gavin yelled out, approaching him. "What the fuck happened in there?"

Not answering, Dillon stalked over to Emily and pulled her by the arm. She tried backing away, but his ironclad grip was too tight. He grabbed her chin in his hand, forcefully yanking it up. "You just let some random guy touch you! What are you - a fucking whore?"

All. Gavin. Saw. Was. Blood. Red.

The hair on his arms stood on end. With a muscle working in his jaw, hostility bleeding from his shoulders, and the light blue of his eyes blazing like hot coals, Gavin delivered and connected a sharp, brutal jab to Dillon's jaw, snapping his head back. Dillon hit the asphalt with a sickening thud, his body unmoving - completely down for the count.

Emily stumbled back from the impact and landed on the ground. Sliding against tiny pieces of gravel, she felt the bottom of her palms and wrists rip open.

Paying no mind to his unconscious friend lying on the floor, Gavin's eyes immediately flew to Emily. His heart clenched in his chest. In one gentle sweeping motion, he lifted her from the ground and searched her face worriedly. "Jesus, Emily, tell me I didn't accidentally hit you." He ran his fingers across her cheeks, eventually caressing them through her hair. With his body shaking, he stared into her eyes, his voice a low whisper. "God, please tell me I didn't."

She swallowed tightly, shock settling through every limb in her body. "No, you didn't hit me," she choked out, tears streaming down her face.

For the second time tonight, relief washed through Gavin. "I'm taking you back to your apartment," he whispered, his hands sliding down her arms.

"I...I can't ju...just leave him here, Gavin," she stammered, wiping her eyes.

"You can, and you will," he answered softly. He looked to Trevor. "You'll bring him to your place tonight."

Crouching on the floor next to Dillon with his hand on his pulse, Trevor looked up and nodded. "Yeah, but you're helping me get him in my car."

Although it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to throw Dillon into Trevor's trunk and sink him somewhere in the Atlantic, Gavin reluctantly agreed. After a very drunk and very knocked-out Dillon was tossed into Trevor's car, Gavin took Emily home. The entire ride over his stomach twisted with pain, listening to her cry as she explained what had happened. Her expression was vulnerable, and the need for answers swirled in her eyes.

After they entered her apartment, Gavin had her sit down on the couch as he retrieved a washcloth and bandages from the bathroom. He also filled a bowl with cool water. When he emerged from the kitchen, he found her rocking back and forth, cradling her face in her hands. Heaviness settled in his chest like a brick. The urge to take her into his arms and shield her from the pain she was feeling was almost impossible for him to resist.

Sitting himself on the floor in front of her, Gavin dipped the washcloth into the water and reached for one of her wrists. She flinched back in noticeable pain as he laid it across her skin. Now he felt anger surge within him, knowing that Dillon had caused all of it. Gavin gritted his teeth as he squeezed the excess water from the cloth, noticing its white color was tinged pink from her blood. The blood from this beautiful woman was brought on by an asshole - an asshole that didn't deserve her smile, her touch, her warmth, or her love.

None of it.

Wanting to tell her how much better he could treat her, see to her every need, and take care of her in every way possible, Gavin found his voice trapped in yearning, not wanting to upset her further.

"I'm sorry that I caused this to happen, Gavin. I'm so sorry," she whispered as tears steadily trickled down her cheeks.

With his brows creased and head tilted, Gavin applied the last bandage. He looked up to her and tried to understand why she would say that. "You think this was your fault?"

"Yes. Dillon was right. If I didn't let that guy touch me, none of this would've happened."

"Emily..." he paused, bringing his hand up to cup the curve of her jaw. "You're not responsible for what happened. Do you understand me?"

Sniffling, she adamantly shook her head and stared into his eyes. "No, Gavin, I'm responsible. I had no right talking to that guy to begin with." She started sobbing uncontrollably. "You and Dillon were friends, and now you won't be after this. I can't believe what I've caused."

He could see the mixture of confusion and pain on her face, and it only heightened his confusion. Damn Dillon. He had her under a tighter hold than Gavin could've ever imagined. "He makes you think it's your fault, Emily," he replied, the words spoken low but unwavering. "And I'm not worried about his friendship right now. I don't think I ever was. I'm worried about you - you, Emily - not him."

Shaking her head, she continued to cry, barely managing a breath in between. Gavin rose to his feet and settled himself on the couch next to her. Placing a pillow on his lap, he gently pulled her down and rested her head against it. He wasn't surprised that she didn't resist. The woman that he'd come to know was broken - torn to pieces by a man who saw through her weaknesses. Weaknesses he used against her with every chance he got. It could've been seconds, minutes, or possibly hours - Gavin didn't know - but he sat there stroking Emily's hair until she fell asleep. With bloodshot eyes, Gavin watched as her chest rose and fell peacefully. As each one of those seconds, minutes, or possible hours passed, Gavin knew - and not for the sake of what he wanted for him and Emily, but for the sake of Emily alone - he needed to get her away from Dillon.