She sighs heavily, and guilt courses through me. “Where were you?”

“I . . . woke up early and went for a walk.”

She’s silent for a beat, studying me with so much disapproval on her face she reminds me of my mother. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but I don’t like being lied to. You didn’t sleep here at all last night, and don’t insult me by trying to pretend you did.”

“Nix—”

She holds up a hand. “I’m glad you’re okay. Let’s leave it at that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, I need to work.” She grabs her purse off the entry table and hoists it onto her shoulder. “I hate him for hurting you,” she says without looking at me, “and I’d be the first in line to kick him in the nuts, but at some point you have to take personal responsibility.” She crosses her arms and turns to look at me. “You’ve scraped your heart off the ground and handed it right back to the butcher.”

She turns toward the garage and leaves, slamming the door behind her.

I sink to the floor, cradle my head in my hands, and listen to the sound of the garage opening and her car pulling down the drive. She’s right. Of course she’s right. But she doesn’t know the truth about Sam and Sabrina. If I could just tell her . . .

If I told her, it might not change how she feels. So what if Sam and Sabrina’s engagement is fake? What does that really mean for us?

My phone buzzes.

Sam: You left without saying goodbye.

I start to type a reply, then stop. After everything with River, I’m not a big fan of texts and IMs for communicating. I hit the phone icon and call him instead. He picks up on the first ring.

“If I’d known you were going to run away,” he says, “I never would have fallen asleep.”

I close my eyes, allowing myself a minute to revel in the sound of his scratchy morning voice. “I didn’t make it back before Nix woke up,” I say.

“You were supposed to be staying at her place last night?”

“Yeah. She was worried when she woke up and I wasn’t here. Once she knew I was safe, she assumed I was with you.”

He draws in a breath. “Shit. I know she won’t tell anyone, but if she slips—”

“She won’t.” I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder and wrap my arms around myself.

“Can you tell her you were with that guy you had at the fundraiser?”

Last night, all I cared about was being with Sam again and knowing that his engagement with Sabrina wasn’t real. But this morning, it’s painfully obvious that nothing’s really changed. “You want me to pretend I spent the night with another man?”

“Want isn’t really the right word, but it’s probably a good idea.”

I don’t know how to reply. Is it fair to be hurt by that when I knew he planned to continue with the fake engagement?

With every silent second, my stomach sinks further and further until it lands at my feet.

“Well.” I swallow. Talk about morning-after awkwardness. We’re good at that, Sam and I. “Don’t worry about it, okay? You have enough on your plate right now. I’ll take care of Nix.”

“Is she still there?”

I lift my eyes to the garage door. “She already left to make rounds at the hospital.”

“Then come back over. I don’t have to be at the bank until nine, and this bed is lonely without you.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea? The sun’s coming up, and you have nosy neighbors.”

He mutters a string of colorful curses. “You’re right.”

“I need to get back home anyway. I have to work this afternoon.”

“Home? Rowdy, this is your home.”

I bite my lip, because it’s not anymore. Until I can be next to Sam without worrying about people seeing us together or stressing over what his family might think, New Hope will never feel like the safe haven a home should. And I’m not sure if that day will ever come.

“Have a good day, Sam.”

“You too.”

I wait half a beat into the silence where another couple—a normal couple—would say I love you and hang up the phone. Sam and I never got to be that normal couple. I’m not sure we ever will.

Chapter 16

Sam

I can’t stay away from her. God help me.

I had plans to go to Brady’s with the guys tonight, but I made an excuse about wedding plans and drove to Indianapolis and straight to Lizzy’s apartment. She’s been dodging my calls all day.

Coming here is risky. Someone could see me. Someone could find out that we used to be together and make a big deal about me visiting her. But if she’s not going to talk to me on the phone, I’ll get her to talk to me in person.

I climb the stairs to her apartment, and when I reach her floor, I can hear her laughing on the other side of the door. That sound does something to me. As if there’s this little pilot light in my chest, and only Liz can make it burn bright—with her laugh or her smile or her moans.

The door’s cracked, so I nudge it open a few more inches without knocking, figuring she’s probably on the phone with one of her friends.

Instead, I find her on the couch with that guy she brought to the fundraiser. They’re on opposite ends, turned in toward each other and hunched over something. Two beers sit on the coffee table.