“No. I mean who are you? Have you got a wife? Kids? Pets? What makes you tick? What makes you wake up in the morning?”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing but a girl I can’t get out of my goddamn head. With a sigh, I lean back in my chair, wanting him to get out of my space. “What’s your point?”

“I don’t trust you,” he says point-blank.

“I don’t trust you, either, so I guess we’re even.”

He lifts a finger in the air, like he’s about to gift me with his shitty words of wisdom. But what he says is, “You don’t need to trust me. That’s the thing, Ky. You’re completely replaceable to me. That built up rage you have—the one that’s worked its way so deep inside you that you can’t breathe—that’s there forever. And you have no other outlet.” He laughs mockingly. “I’m your ticket. I’m your outlet.” He pauses for a moment, tilting his head, letting his eyes bore into mine. “I’d love to know what happened to you. And I know it’s not the war. No...That’s not it. Not all of it, anyway. So what happened?” He smirks. “Did you fuck the wrong girl?”

My fingers ache from their grip on the side of my chair. It’s the only thing holding me back from rushing across the table and treating his face like my personal punching bag.

His menacing chuckle fills my head with fury.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he continues, leaning forward again. “Or at least a part of it. Is that why you enlisted—to get away from her? I bet you disappointed a lot of people when you left, huh? Your perfect parents. Your brothers and sisters?”

My jaw tightens.

He smiles. “Yeah, that’s it. And guilt. I bet that guilt eats away at you, burning every last piece of your soul—to the point where you’ll never let yourself be happy. I bet—”

My chair scrapes across the floor as I stand and lunge for him.

He’s fast.

Too fast.

The cold metal of his gun presses against my forehead before I’ve even stood to full height.

DeLuca’s eyes narrow, but they’re calm.

Too fucking calm.

I want to kill him.

Then and there.

Bare hands.

Fuck the consequences.

“I own you now,” he whispers before lowering the gun and shoving his hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. He lifts the hood over his head, straightens up, and casually walks out of there.

I eye the guy behind the counter, but he’s too preoccupied with his phone to notice what just happened.

I let DeLuca get to me.

And worse—I let him see my fear.

***

I’d walked halfway back to my apartment before realizing that I have no fucking idea why DeLuca even wanted to meet. Was that his plan? To fuck with my head?

Because if so—it worked.

And I was done playing his games.

I stand just outside the apartment doors and call Jackson. He answers first ring.

“I saw that he called this morning. Are you meeting him?”

“I just did.”

“You’re supposed to tell me before you do anything. Have I not made it clear enough how dangerous this guy can be?”

“Probably not, but him holding a gun to my head just now may have done the trick.”

“Fuck! Tell me you’re joking.”

“Jax, it’s fine. I handled it.” Lie. I’m still not handling it. “Can I ask you something?”

Jackson sighs loudly. “Anything.”

“Are you doing this for you or me?”

“What’s the right answer here?”

“The truth, Jax.”

“Both.” He clears his throat. “Thank you, Ky.”

“No need.”

“Also,” he says, “call Mom!”

Once he’s hung up I rub my eyes, hoping to hell this day would just end. When I open them, my heart drops to my stomach.

Watching Madison walk from the elevator to the mailbox is like a sweet form of torture. Her hand shifts around the box and comes back empty. I find myself smiling, though I know I shouldn’t. Then she quickly turns, catching me mid-stare.

Shit.

But then she does something completely unexpected. She smiles and walks to the door, her hips swaying from side to side. I’m in a trance, completely tangled in a web of nothing but Madison. For a moment, it feels right. And at that moment—I forget about the shit DeLuca just pulled.

She opens the door and sticks her head out, her eyes squinting from the little sun that peeks through the clouds. “Morning,” she says, her voice smooth.

“Morning,” I reply, trying to look her in the eyes.

But I can’t do it.

When I do, all I see is her pain.

Her pain and my regrets.

She steps out of the doorway and stands a foot in front of me. “It’s nice out,” she says. “And I’m pretty sure you owe me a walk.”

Relief washes through me. “I have somewhere to be,” I tell her.

Her face falls.

“But I’d love for you to join me.”

She grins from ear to ear, and settles her hand in the crook of my elbow.

“Where are you taking me?”

She bounces on her toes as I lead us away. Instead of answering her question, I pull us to the side until her back is pressed against a building. “You okay?”

She looks up, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Not that I’m complaining, but after last night I swore you’d never speak to me again, yet here we are...”

“I’m sorry,” she says, but it comes out a question.

“You’re sorry? I’m the one—”

She shakes her head quickly, cutting me off. “No, Ky. I was...” There’s a hint of hesitation before she reaches out and links our hands. “I’m new...to whatever it is that’s happening with you and me. You did the right thing. Honestly. It’s just that, I guess I have a lot of self-doubts and very little self-confidence. So maybe I took it out of context—that’s not your problem, it’s mine. And I’m here because I want to try to work on it. And I’m hoping that maybe you can help me with that.”

With a smile, I lean in close to her ear. “So if I tell you that I think you’re beautiful, will that help?”

She nods slowly, a slight smile on her face.

And that’s all the answer I need.

She says, “I like you, Ky, I really do...”

“As much as you like that mailbox?” I ask, hoping to steer her away from whatever rejection she’s about to hand me.

It works, because she tosses her head back with her laugh.

“I have to admit—I do have a strong case of jealousy. If one day you wake up and there’s a giant hulk-smash fist through it, just know that it started it first.”

She smiles. “Friends?”

“Friends,” I agree, and as the word leaves my mouth, I hadn’t expected it to feel so right.

I need a friend. A distraction from everything else. She could be my distraction.

I hold her hand and continue our walk.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“We’re here.” I stop to open the door of Debbie’s Flowers and wait until she steps inside.