I caught myself, and my hands fell down to my sides. I had to pull my eyes away from him, but it ached. All I wanted to do was look back up at him, move closer to him, feel him, touch him.

But I did nothing.

I calmed my breathing, and I held still. The emotions would dissipate. They had to. This was nuts. Him and me? There was no way…

He’d said if there was a retrial…

I looked back up. “You mean, there might not be a retrial?”

His eyes flicked to mine. The corner of his mouth lifted again, and a smirk flared for a second. “I’m told they can retry me, then I’m told they can’t, and the latest is that the district attorney is just bluffing. They want to go after me for something else.”

“Can they do that?”

“Who knows?” A hard twinge sounded. “All I know is that my life is fucked up.”

And that was my fault.

Pulling away, I needed some space. I needed to think clearly again.

Swallowing over a lump in my throat, I asked, “You think you can make that work tomorrow? So, I can be there and not worry.”

I looked up and was caught by his eyes. He was staring down at me with a hard edge to him. I felt like a hand was inside my chest, squeezing the life out of me. My mouth was suddenly dry again, and I had to bite down on my lip to keep from saying something or licking it. Heat rose up in my body. I felt it spreading to my cheeks, and that lump in my throat doubled in size.

He blamed me…

Did he?

I was too scared to ask.

He broke first, his eyes darting away. “I’ll make it work. You shouldn’t have to worry about your life being upended because of my team. I’ll ask everyone to let me go in alone.”

“Will they be there? I mean, outside of the room? Are they still going to be hanging around you?”

“I’ll make my sister stay home. She’s the only one who could identify you. My lawyer and one of the publicists will be there, but you don’t have to worry about them. They’ve already preselected what questions will be asked, so they aren’t expecting any surprises. Your friend—is she the main reporter or one of the other ones?”

I laughed. Susan. “No. Uh, the main reporter hates me.”

His gaze sharpened. “She does?”

“I’m not quite sure why, but she does. Erica says it has something to do with Jake—”

He didn’t know Jake. Well, he did, but he didn’t know the circumstances. I didn’t know if I wanted him to know either.

“Jake,” Kian murmured. “That’s the guy I saw you with?”

“Uh…”

“He is.” A small grin tugged at his lips as he said quietly, “You don’t have to be scared of me knowing these things. You don’t have to be scared of me at all—ever. I’m just…I’m curious. Our lives are intertwined so much, but you’re almost a stranger to me. It feels wrong not to know certain things about you, like everyday things, when I know…other things.”

He knew my deepest and darkest secrets.

He knew what Edmund had done to me.

A shaky laugh slipped out. I couldn’t hold back the edge in my tone. “You’re right. You do. You know things no one should know. You know things I’m ashamed of—”

He surged to me. His hand caught my shoulder, and he said forcefully, “You never have to be ashamed. Never, Jordan.”

Edmund was there. I felt his presence between us.

I looked down, but I didn’t move from Kian’s hold, even though I should’ve been scared of it.

I wasn’t.

He continued, his voice softening, “He did that to you. It happened to you—not by you, not because of you, but to you. You had no choice. You have no accountability of what was done to you. Your foster dad was a sick bastard. I might not remember killing him, but I’ll never regret that I did. No one should have that horror happen to them. Guys like Edmund don’t rehabilitate. They just learn how to hide it better.” He sounded like he wanted to say more, but he let go and jerked back a step.

I sensed a raging battle inside of him. It was for me, not because of me.

Right there, hearing that, my reservations about Kian disappeared. He protected me. He didn’t blame me. Snark’s warnings were for nothing. I couldn’t explain it. There were no words that I could utter to make another person feel it, too, but I knew then.

I had nothing to fear from Kian.

A tear formed in the corner of my eye, and I brushed it away before he saw it. I didn’t want him to see that he had affected me. I wanted to be seen how I saw him—strong.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I wasn’t just thanking him for the interview.

He nodded, stepping away again. “Yeah,” he murmured. He took in a deep breath and let it out. “I’ll make it work tomorrow. You don’t have to worry. Your friend is the other reporter? Erica?”

“She’s going to be the feisty one.”

He grinned. “I look forward to meeting her.”

Here it was—the awkward good-bye. We had talked about what I’d asked him to come for. There was no reason for more talk. I knew he should go, but I didn’t want him to, and I knew that I should let him go, but I didn’t want to. I wanted him to stay—at least for a little longer.

He was right. He knew the deepest regions of my soul and what had happened to me—that touched inside of me—but we were almost strangers. It didn’t seem right.

He sighed. “This is where I go.”

I nodded. “I know.”

He didn’t leave.

I didn’t either.

We stayed and stared at each other for another minute, and then he began backing away.

I turned around and looked out over the city. I heard the roof’s door open and close, and I knew he was gone, but I’d see him again tomorrow.

The hotel suite was dark when I got in, but there was a soft glow coming from my sister’s room and another from the living room. As I passed the doorway, I noticed the French doors had been left open, and a small lamp on the desk tucked back in the corner had been left on.

I shared this suite with Felicia.

Our dad hadn’t wanted to stray from his offices for too long, and there’d been too much traveling done already from the Primetime interview and all the appeals courts. He remained back home with our mother.