Chapter 12

TWELVE

BASH

Rowe had fallen asleep quickly, snoring lightly on my chest while I held him and ran my fingertips over his back and shoulders. Instead of feeling the deep, sated relaxation I would have expected to feel after a night of incredible casual sex, I felt restless and edgy…

Because this sex hadn’t been casual.

Rowe Prince was casual like a lightning strike.

Like a supernova.

Like free fall, in that heart-stopping moment before the parachute opens.

I couldn’t imagine how I was supposed to wish him well after this weekend, leave him with a few contacts for his project, and let him slip back off to Noplace, Indiana, without me.

The way he talked, the way he laughed, the way he saw the world, the way he let himself be trusting and vulnerable with me… all of it was electrifying and addictive. More thrilling than a hundred adventures to far-flung places because Rowe was endlessly unpredictable. Every part of him, right down to the freckles on his cheeks, was fascinating.

Which was a real problem because casual was all we could ever be.

I had no interest in an actual relationship. This wasn’t because I’d sworn them off after some terrible breakup, like Silas had, or because I was busy fucking my way through all fifty states like Landry. It was because I was already in a relationship with Sterling Chase—the company, not the adorable liar—and I liked it that way.

And even if I didn’t? Even if I was prepared to somehow make room in my life for a—my brain caught on the word—a boyfriend ? How could I do that in good conscience when I would have to hide so much from him about my role at Sterling Chase, about my brotherhood and our money and our secrecy pact? I’d end up telling more lies than Rowe in his bunny tux… only worse, because I’d be lying to someone I cared about.

There was also the tiny matter of Rowe having family obligations calling him back to Linden, where the only thing that interested me was a certain Cupid picture hanging on his mother’s living room wall.

The last thing I wanted to do was lead Rowe on or hurt him in any way, which meant I had to end this immediately. But—my arm tightened around Rowe’s shoulders, and he nestled closer with a sleepy sigh—I didn’t know how.

The mind-numbing circular thoughts finally lulled me into an uneasy sleep, and when the phone rang sometime later, I was groggy and disoriented.

“Bash?” Rowe mumbled into my chest. “Wha—?”

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. “Shh. It’s Kenji, my assistant. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

It was just after two in the morning, not a time for social calls, and panic slithered through my mind as I remembered a different phone call several years ago, when Dev’s brother had died in a terrible car crash. Nudging Rowe’s warm body off mine as I slid out of bed left me feeling even more uneasy and wrong-footed.

“Kenji?” I croaked into the phone. “Who’s hurt? What’s wrong?”

“Everyone’s safe,” Kenji said immediately. Under his breath, he added a menacing, “Until I get a hold of them, at least. Fucking Landry, Bash. I swear to Christ.”

I ran a hand over my face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “What’d he do? Does he need bribe money or bail money?”

“The second. This time for property damage and public intoxication.” Kenji’s voice was nearly vibrating with anger.

I sighed. I had no idea why Landry pulled the stunts he pulled or why he almost seemed to enjoy being a thorn in Kenji’s side. “Okay—” I began.

“No. No, it is definitely not okay, Bash. Because this time, he took our favorite rock star along for the ride. And of course he waited until I was already in Florida for my grandmother’s birthday so I can’t even make this go away before the media gets a hold of it.”

“Zane, too?” I closed my eyes and groaned. “Fuck.”

“Precisely.” Kenji took a deep breath and let loose, his words practically tumbling over themselves he was so worked up. “They’re in Philly. Zane played at the Tower Theater last night, so I booked him into a nice hotel near the venue. But then fucking Landry showed up to watch him play—which, like, did Landry bother to tell anyone where he’d be? Noooooo , of course not, because then someone might get to enjoy their weekend in Florida without needing to send him a hundred ‘Where are you and who are you fucking?’ texts on a daily basis so I can make sure I have the NDAs ready and/or a description for the police when one of these randos murders him in his bed—”

“Kenji…” I said, trying to calm him down.

But Kenji was too upset to be calmed. “Zane’s publicist already has him convinced that a rock star needs to be freaking nocturnal and either fighting or fucking someone every waking moment, which is bad enough— like, are you a musician, Zane? Or a horny, rabid raccoon?—but you just know that once Landry was on the scene, he made sure things got dialed up to eleven. The two of them ended up in some groupie’s hotel room on the other side of town, where they proceeded to engage in Landry’s other favorite activity—when he’s not fucking anonymous strangers, that is—getting drunk and trashing a hotel room.” Kenji blew out an aggrieved breath. “They’re cooling their heels at the police station now. And here I am, stuck in Boca Raton…”

While Kenji continued to bitch, I glanced over at Rowe. He’d sat up in bed, gorgeous curls going every which way, and furrowed his eyebrows in worry. “Everything okay?” he whispered.

I covered the phone. “Define okay.” I rolled my eyes. “No one’s hurt, but there’s been a huge clusterfuck, and I need to drive down to Philly to bail my friends out. You can go back to sleep.”

Instead of snuggling back under the covers, though, Rowe squeezed my hand, then moved off the bed and out to the other bedroom, like maybe he didn’t want to be disturbed.

“Bash?” Kenji demanded. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was talking to… never mind.” I shook my head, still staring at where Rowe had disappeared into the darkened living area. “I’m gonna go get them. If the guys call back, tell them I’m on my way.”

“Oh. Oh, shit. You’re with Rowe,” Kenji said in a hushed voice.

“You knew I would be. You arranged—”

“No, I mean… you’re with him. Like, in bed with him. Post-sex sleeping with him. Together. ”

Kenji had traded his anger for pearl-clutching. I couldn’t help chuckling as I headed into the bathroom, blinking under the bright overhead lights as I retrieved my toothbrush. “Did you think we were going to tell ghost stories and braid our hair all night?”

“Well, no, but I thought… Actually, I don’t know what I thought,” he finally admitted. “Spending the whole night with someone isn’t a thing you do… is it?”

The last thing I wanted at that moment was to be reminded of how unusual—and impossible—this situation with Rowe was… especially now that it was coming to a disappointingly quick end.

I cleared my throat. “If I leave now, I should get to Philly in an hour and a bit. Text me the location. I assume you’ve already contacted Bruce?” I asked, mentioning the expensive attorney Kenji had finally put on retainer to deal with Landry’s messes. “ Shit . And I forgot I didn’t drive out here. I need a car—”

“Morris will be waiting outside. I’ve been texting him as we talked. And yes, Bruce is already involved—he should have the guys processed out before you get there.” Kenji paused. “Sorry, Bash. Genuinely. I wish you didn’t have to be the one to handle this. But somebody needs to have a come-to-Jesus with Zane, and he’ll listen to you. He can’t jump on Landry’s fuckery train and expect it not to catch up with him.”

“I get it. It’s fine.” It really wasn’t. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Rowe, to leave the little bubble we’d created in this hotel room. But that wasn’t Kenji’s fault. “I’ll text you when they’re out. Put this out of your mind and enjoy the rest of your weekend, okay?”

He snickered. “Oh, yeah. You know me—living it up here at the Vista Bonita Active Seniors community. I’ve finally found my people. See you Monday… And FYI, I’ll be making another large deposit to the Fake Sterling Chase Escape Fund before then. Just in case of disaster.”

“Great.” I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t going to need any special coping mechanisms to deal with the fallout of spending a single weekend with a sexy man… but that would be a lie.

After Kenji and I disconnected, I splashed some water on my face, ran a hand through my hair, and pulled on some clothes. I made a point of not looking at the bed as I walked through the bedroom on my way out of the suite.

Rowe appeared in the doorway of the second bedroom with a towel slung around his waist and a shy smile on his face. “Hey! Just let me throw on my clothes, and I’ll be ready for our next adventure, okay?”

He walked back into the bedroom, and I stared after him, too busy admiring the way the towel dipped over his luscious ass to process his words for a long moment. Then…

“Wait. You’re coming with me? To Philly?” I trailed after him.

“Sure. You said we had all night, right? Still looks like night to me. Besides, you looked like you could use a friend or at least a distraction.” Rowe grabbed a shirt from the open suitcase triumphantly and turned toward me. His sunshine grin fell the moment he saw my face. “Or maybe not. Oh, god, I’m such a dork.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ll already have friends there. What would you need me for? Never mind. I’ll just catch the train back to New York in a little while. And I, uh… I’ll settle up for the room in a couple weeks, if that’s—”

I stepped across the room and took his face in my hands so he would have to meet my eyes. “Please come. I’d love your company. I figured a middle-of-the-night trip to a Philadelphia police station wasn’t on anyone’s adventure bucket list, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated—”

Rowe lurched forward and kissed me. It was awkward, with bumped noses and lips pinched between teeth, but it was real and heartfelt and… and definitely not casual.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye yet,” he admitted, and hearing him speak my thoughts aloud made my heart squeeze painfully. “Besides, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but ordinary stuff just becomes an adventure when you’re around. You’re kinda magic that way.”

I was pretty sure it was the other way around.

I kissed him again because I couldn’t help it, savoring the flavor of toothpaste and Rowe. I was very, very close to tumbling Rowe into the bed and letting my idiot friends figure out their own shit, but finally, I set a hand on his chest and pulled my lips away reluctantly. “My dick wants to stay here very badly and continue this conversation with you in bed, but we need to go.”

Yet we both watched my fingers trace down his chest, over the smooth skin of his lean stomach toward the knot in his towel. Rowe’s breathing hitched, and he turned those big brown eyes up at me. “Bash?”

“ Fuck .” I stepped further away, out of touching distance.

Rowe gave me a wry smile.

“Later,” I promised, though I still had no fucking idea how that was going to work.

Once we were dressed, we gathered up our things and met the driver out front of the inn. “Sorry to wake you, Morris.”

The older man held out a tray with two cups of coffee while taking a third for himself. “As soon as Kenji texted, I figured we’d be bailing those two knuckleheads out.”

“Again,” I muttered, taking the tray and offering one of the cups to Rowe.

We huddled together in the back seat of the car as it made its way down the driveway and into the deserted country roads of early morning.

“Does this kind of thing happen often?” Rowe asked hesitantly.

I huffed out an almost-laugh. “Me making midnight rescues? No. Kenji usually takes care of it. Landry getting into trouble, though? That’s pretty common. And Zane…” I hesitated, but if Rowe was coming with me, there’d be no way to keep certain things a secret. More than that, I didn’t want to. I wanted Rowe to know about as much of my life as I could share, even if it wasn’t wise. I took a sip of coffee and casually asked, “You know Zee Barlo?”

“Uh, yeah. I made you listen to ‘The Solo Hour’ on the way to the hotel earlier, remem— wait.” Rowe’s eyes got wide, and he shifted in his seat to face me, his whole body practically humming. “Are you telling me Zee Barlo is your college friend Zane? You actually know him? Bash!” He thumped my arm lightly. “You scoffed when I played you that song.”

I snorted and ran a hand through my hair. It was funny which things actually got Rowe excited. Powerful socialites, ritzy galas, untold wealth? Meh. But give the man a good snack mix, show him an old desk, or tell him you knew an up-and-coming musician and watch him come alive.

“Zane was a business major in a previous life.” I stared out the darkened window of the car and couldn’t help smiling as I remembered how buttoned-up he’d been freshman year. “That was his grandmother’s influence. She wanted him to be a banker or a lawyer. Something stable. But music has always been Zane’s passion, so that’s what he devoted himself to after we— uh …” I bit my tongue. Jesus . I’d been about to say after we sold ETC and just casually break a secrecy promise I’d sworn to the brotherhood. I was tired, and Rowe was dangerously easy to talk to, but I knew my friends wouldn’t consider those good excuses. “After we graduated.”

“That’s awesome.” Rowe’s smile was genuine… and a little wistful. “I love hearing about someone who decides to just go for the thing they want. And Zane succeeded.”

“Yeah. He’s worked hard, and I’m happy for his success. But…” I took another sip of my coffee and tried to determine how much I could share. “Once he started getting some airplay, Zane’s agent and record label hooked him up with this PR company, and they decided he needed a total image overhaul. ‘Rock stars are edgy. You’re too sweet and clean-cut.’”

“Ooof. And now you need to bail Zane out. No wonder you weren’t super enthusiastic when I played you the song.”

“I love Zane’s music,” I said quickly.

“No, I get it. You just love your friend more, and you’re worried they’re trying to change him.” Rowe chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment. “Seems silly to me. Zane’s already got that raspy voice, and those poetic lyrics, and those broody, soulful eyes.” Rowe’s own eyes got a little shiny and dreamlike. “A bad-boy image seems like overkill.”

A curl of emotion slithered through my gut, and it took me a second to recognize it as jealousy. I wasn’t normally a jealous person, but the idea of introducing Rowe to model-gorgeous Landry and talented Zane made me want to shove the curly-haired angel behind me and hiss at anyone who came near. To mark him up with a giant hickey or a T-shirt that said Property of Sebastian Dayne . Something subtle like that.

Jesus, my friends would give me shit forever if they realized I felt this way. And Rowe would…

Well, Rowe would be very confused since it wasn’t like that between us, and I didn’t want it to be.

Did I?

I cleared my throat. “Zane was playing a show in Philly, and he and Landry ended up trashing a hotel room somehow. I’m gonna try to talk some sense into him.”

“Right.” Rowe tried and failed to hide his grin behind his coffee cup. “So you decided to bring Sterling Chase along to prove how sensible you are?”

I rolled my eyes and stretched my legs out, tilting my head back against the leather seat. Rowe wasn’t wrong. I was sure there’d be hell to pay when my friends saw that I wasn’t alone, and I knew I was only delaying a difficult conversation with Rowe himself. But being with him felt so good I let myself tuck those things away to worry about later.

As we drove south toward Pennsylvania, the sky lightened outside the windows. The space between us on the seat seemed impossibly large, so I shifted a little to get closer to him. When that didn’t ease the aching in my chest, I pulled him closer until he was up against my side with his head on my shoulder and his curls tickling my stubbled chin.

“Thank you for coming with me,” I said, feeling suddenly awkward, like I needed to explain my desire to touch him.

“It’s no problem. Really. Sun’s still not up,” he reminded me with a yawn. “I’m still not a pumpkin. And I’ve never been to Philly.”

Strangely enough, I was able to follow his disjointed thoughts, which should have been a sobering reminder that I’d gotten too close to Rowe too fast— How’s that arm’s-length thing going, Bash?— but when Rowe gave a breathy little snore, I decided that for now, I didn’t give a shit. I wrapped both arms around him and for a moment let my worries fall away.

Morris woke us when we hit the outskirts of Philly a little while later, and I tried to tell myself it was a good thing when Rowe instantly moved away to his own side of the seat. We pulled up to the police station and went inside while Morris waited with the car, and we began the process of collecting my misbehaving friends.

Sure enough, Bruce had sorted the paperwork, and Rowe and I only spent a minute in the dank precinct lobby before Zane came shuffling out of a side door, looking exhausted and cracking his knuckles guiltily.

Landry, who came strolling behind him, didn’t look guilty at all.

“Where’s Kenji?” Landry demanded. His eyes roamed the room like maybe I’d stashed our assistant in a closet somewhere.

“In Florida with his grandmother, which is a little more urgent than saving your ass for the twelfth time this month,” I said sourly.

Landry glared at me—at least as much as a person could glare when their eyes were bloodshot and couldn’t seem to open more than halfway. “So he sent Big Daddy to lecture the riffraff on appropriate comportment for highbrow gentlemen? Delightful.”

“I’m happy to take Zane and let you languish if you can’t be civil,” I warned.

I yanked Zane into my arms for a hug, and he trembled a little. No matter how hard he tried to be a bad boy, to me he would always be the shy, buttoned-up kid from a small town in Georgia who only felt like his true self when he was singing.

“Hey. You okay?” I murmured against his pot-scented hair.

He pulled away, nodding slightly.

Landry ignored me as soon as he caught sight of Rowe, and he managed to summon a sultry smile from somewhere. “Well, well, well. Hello, gorgeous. Looks like Bash brought me a reward for keeping Zane alive while we were locked up.”

I snapped at him without thinking. “Take one step closer to him and it will be your last.”

Landry and Zane both looked at me like I had twelve heads and they were all wearing crocheted bonnets. Then Landry smirked.

“Ohhhh,” he singsonged. “You must be the guy who’s kept our group chat popping for the last couple days. Sterling Chase, isn’t it?”

Rowe glanced at me nervously, and I shot Landry a killing look that finally—temporarily—seemed to shut him up.

“Rowe Prince, this is Landry Davis,” I cut in smoothly. “And he’s cranky when he’s hungover, so ignore him. This is—”

“Hey, Rowe,” Zane said, stepping forward with a sweet smile. “I’m Zane.” Genuine kindness and authenticity radiated from him, drawing Rowe in like a tractor beam.

“Wow. It’s… really nice to meet you. Your music is phenomenal. I-I’m Rowe… wait, you said that already.” The familiar blush emerged on his cheeks, which made my jealousy roar back to life.

Those were my blushes, damn it.

Landry’s smirk deepened, suggesting some part of my jealousy had shown on my face, which was the last thing I wanted.

“What the hell were you thinking, Landry?” I demanded, going on the offensive. “You wanna be a magnet for trouble, fine. But don’t rope Zane into your shit.”

Landry’s eyes narrowed, but Zane cut in before Landry could speak.

“That’s not what happened,” he said tiredly. “This isn’t Landry’s fault.”

“Like hell it’s not—” I began.

Zane looked furtively around the lobby. “Can we… not do this here?”

It seemed the media hadn’t caught wind of his release—at least, I couldn’t see anyone nearby who showed a particular interest in him—and I spared a moment of gratitude that his popularity was only just moving out of certain key demographics and more into the mainstream. There were still plenty of people in the world who had no idea what he looked like, even if they knew all the words to his song.

I lowered my voice. “Fine. Yes. Get in the car. We can talk about it on the drive back to the city.”

Zane shook his head. “Can’t. My people are waiting for me at the hotel here. I need a shower and a change of clothes.”

I wanted to strongly argue with him labeling the PR company “his people” since they didn’t seem to be looking out for him in the slightest, but this wasn’t the time. “Fine. We can talk there. Let’s go.”

The three of them followed me out like tired little ducklings, filing one by one into the town car until Landry and Zane were in the rear-facing row staring at Rowe and me.

“Champagne, anyone?” Landry said with a teasing grin as soon as I closed the door. “We can celebrate Zane’s first arrest in Pennsylvania. Huzzah.”

Zane elbowed him in the ribs and slumped down in the seat. “Shut it, Landry. I have a headache.”

I reached for a couple of bottles of water from the built-in cooler and handed them across. “Tell me what happened exactly.”

Landry ignored me, sucking down the cold water, while Zane proceeded to explain things mostly the way Kenji had laid them out. “It was stupid,” he said. “I see that now. But we didn’t damage anything on purpose. It was the others. They kept knocking things off the walls and screaming out the window. And it wasn’t Landry’s idea. He just went along with it.”

Landry looked affronted. “I did not go along. I don’t go along with things, Zane, and most definitely not a plan to spend an evening yukking it up at some no-tell motel in Philadelphia with a bunch of strangers. In fact, if you’ll recall, I strongly argued that if you needed to blow off steam—and who doesn’t, from time to time?—there were better ways and better people to do it with.” He examined his nails. “I also told you to hurry up and run when they announced that the cops had arrived, but you didn’t do that, either.” He rolled his eyes and hooked a thumb in Zane’s direction. “Our boy here’s hella slow.”

I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. “Zane. You are on the cusp of having everything you ever dreamed of. You’re being booked into huge fucking venues all over the world. What happens if you’re stuck in a holding cell and can’t do one of those shows? Or if you have a court appearance on the same day a big media group wants you to do a photoshoot?”

Zane shook his head firmly. “That’s not gonna happen. Noelle said—”

“Fuck Noelle,” I hissed, trying not to shout in the small, enclosed space. “Was Noelle there when you did dangerous tree work in the Georgia summer heat to earn money for guitar lessons? Is Noelle the one who’s going to explain to your granny that you can’t be there for Hoppin’ John and cornbread on New Year’s because you were partying with drug users and making hotel messes she herself would have had to clean up back in the day? Huh? Tell me that, because I fucking knew you before this.” I gestured to Landry. “So did this asshole. We remember that kid who swore to fucking Christ he wouldn’t be that guy if he ever became famous!”

I felt Rowe’s soft fingers grip my biceps and turned my head. His face looked sympathetic, but his eyes urged caution. Landry, too, though he didn’t disagree with me, was raising an eyebrow at my delivery.

I rubbed my hands over my face and blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I just…”

Zane nudged my foot with his. “Nah, don’t apologize. You’re right. I can’t imagine what Granny would say if she knew I’d made a mess like that. Noelle said it would be good to work on my local fanbase, so when those guys asked me to hang out…” He shook his head. “I should have cleared out once I saw how things were going down, though. That was my bad.” He twisted to face Landry. “And I should have listened to you. I’m sorry, Landry. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble, too.”

Landry squirmed in his seat and blinked at Zane like he’d been speaking in a foreign language; clearly, the idea of someone apologizing to him for causing trouble was beyond his comprehension since the shoe was so often on the other foot. “Yeah, well. Not my first rodeo. Won’t be my last. But listen to Big Daddy.” He tilted his head toward me. “He’s talking sense for once.”

“It’s under control,” Zane assured us. He tapped out a quick text and a moment later reported, “Noelle will be waiting for us in the lobby to get us upstairs as quickly as possible.”

“Good.” I sank back in my seat and stretched out, letting myself get comfortable. “Crisis averted, then, it sounds like.”

Landry pursed his lips, and then he and Zane exchanged a speaking glance.

“What?” I demanded. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I think you should tell us ,” Landry drawled. He looked pointedly at the seat between me and Rowe, and I realized that part of my “getting comfortable” had been grabbing Rowe’s hand and threading our fingers together like we’d done it a thousand times before. “Care to explain why you’re holding hands with the guy who’s been impersonating a guinea pig?”

A thousand responses flashed through my head, but in the end, I merely gripped Rowe’s hand more firmly when he tried to pull away. “No. Would you like to hear more of my thoughts on spoiled dilettantes who waste their lives and talents by getting into trouble so often that we have a lawyer on retainer?”

Landry folded his arms over his chest sullenly, closed his eyes, and pretended to sleep.

The silence as we rode through the streets of downtown Philadelphia was definitely not comfortable. When we arrived at Zane’s hotel, the four of us climbed out and dragged our way inside. I was too busy wondering how many rooms Kenji had reserved for Zane—and whether Rowe and I could snag one so that I could curl up with him for another few hours and maybe figure out what the fuck I needed to do about him—to notice at first that the lobby was excessively crowded for this hour of the morning.

And then the chaos began.

“Zee! Zee, look over here! Philadelphia Daily Inquisitor—”

“Zee? Celebrity News Online. Could you give us a sound bite—?”

“Mr. Barlo. Rumors are circulating that you’ve been on a drug-fueled rampage all over Philly. Are you pleading guilty?”

Zane’s eyes went wide. “Drugs? No way. I—”

I grabbed Rowe’s hand and pulled him behind me while also thrusting out a hand to block Zane from view. Landry stepped in front of Zane also, shielding him from the other direction as we moved in a group toward the bank of elevators.

Finally, several minutes too late, Zane’s PR manager arrived to whisk us upstairs.

“Zee, where the fuck have you been? I was so worried,” she hissed in a stage whisper. Then, to the clamoring reporters, she announced, “Mr. Barlo has no comment at this time. The Night Agency will be releasing a statement on his behalf later today. That’s Night with no K.”

But as soon as the elevator doors closed on our group, she turned to Zane with a grin. “Oh, my god, they bought it! Great job. And nice touch, bringing an entourage of hotties!” She squeezed Landry’s biceps appreciatively. “I’m Noelle, by the way.”

Landry, Rowe, and I exchanged a glance. Entourage?

“So, you I recognize,” she told Landry. “Cover of Vogue Hommes last fall, right?”

Landry ignored her, but Noelle didn’t seem to mind. She turned to me. “And you are?”

“That’s Bash.” Zane stretched his neck like he was trying to ease stiff muscles.

“Bash, as in… Sebastian Dayne?” she asked breathlessly. “The investor?”

“Noelle,” Zane sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Later, okay? We’re all really tired.”

“Sure, sweetie.” Noelle keyed us into a huge modern suite, where a team of five people sat around a large glass dining table and sprawled along twin sofas in an eye-watering neon green.

I wondered what Rowe thought of the decor, but his face was closed off and gave nothing away.

“Zane, this room is for you.” She gestured to a door off the living area.

“Thank fuck,” Zane muttered. He gave me a one-armed hug. “Love you. Promise I’ll be more careful, ’kay? Thanks for coming to get me.”

I was still angry, still worried, but what could I do? I blew out a breath and nodded as Zane shuffled away.

Landry watched him go, shaking his head, a little smile on his lips. “Somebody needs to bring the rock star some oatmeal and chocolate milk,” he said softly.

I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling my anger rise now that it had a convenient target. “At least Zane knows he has responsibilities—” I broke off when I noticed Noelle watching us avidly and gestured to another room off the living area. “Is this room for Landry?”

Noelle blinked rapidly. “Well, I…” She noted the expression on my face and swallowed hard. “I suppose so.”

“Great.” I pushed Landry in that direction. “We’ll be back.”

“Bash, Bash,” Landry fake-chided. “Pushing me into bed? Won’t your boyfriend get the wrong impression?” He snickered under his breath at his own joke as he wandered off in that direction.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I snapped after him. “Asshole.” But before I followed, I glanced back at Rowe, who hadn’t moved from the entryway. “Rowe, I have to…” I gestured helplessly toward Landry.

“No, no. I completely understand. Go. Do what you have to do.” Rowe’s big brown eyes were wide. He looked tired and a little lost, and I wanted to hug him. I wanted to kick Landry out and take Rowe to bed for a week. I wanted…

Christ. I had no fucking idea what I wanted anymore.

“Will you be okay on your own?” I asked him with a pointed look at Noelle, who still watched us like the concept of privacy was more complex than brain surgery. I didn’t plan to leave him for long, but I didn’t trust her not to try to torture him for information during that time, either.

Rowe did that little thing where he straightened his posture, extracting every quarter-inch from his small frame, and shook the curls out of his face. “Of course I will. Don’t worry about me, Bash.”

Despite my anger at Landry, Rowe made me smile. I took a step toward the bedroom—

“Bash?” Rowe called.

“Yeah?” I stopped and turned my head.

“N-nothing, just…” He shrugged a little and shot me a bright, sunshine smile. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I was definitely going to need it.

By the time I got into the room, Landry had already undressed into a hotel bathrobe and slippers and was reclined against the headboard of the king-sized bed, fiddling with his phone. He glanced up when I came in.

“Look, whatever you want me to say here, Bash, can we pretend I’ve said it? Mea culpa, mea culpa . Landry’s fucked up again.”

“Landry,” I said between clenched teeth.

He sighed and made a production of turning off the phone and setting it on his lap. “Fine, then. Scold me if it’ll make you feel better. I warn you, you’re not as pretty as Kenji, so I probably won’t tolerate it for long.”

I shook my head. “What the hell is wrong with you? This…” I gestured up and down his frame. “This whole spoiled-dilettante thing? Dragging Zane along with you? That’s not you, Landry. That is not the man I knew back in the day, who was on fire to make a name for himself, to change his situation, to help people. That guy didn’t dream about going around breaking hearts and causing scandals, including being banned from a major commercial airline—”

“That incident was blown wildly out of proportion, and you know it,” Landry scoffed. “Besides, you’re not one to talk. The Sebastian Dayne who founded Sterling Chase with us was a leader. A guy who wanted us to be in control of every corner of our business, right down to where we kept the pencil sharpener. That guy wouldn’t fuck off on a safari and let other people run his company. People change. Not always for the better. Are we done now?”

I set my front teeth together and exhaled through my nose. “ No . I had reasons for the things I’ve done, Landry. I didn’t want to be the public face of Sterling Chase anymore. I didn’t want to be the one people were always fucking asking for things. And I realized recently that maybe… maybe I’ve backed off a little too far. Maybe it’s time for me to change things up and take a more active role in things again—”

“Big Daddy admits he made a tiny error?” Landry rolled his eyes. “Alert the media.”

“But that is not the same thing as what you’re doing,” I insisted. “I’m not hurting anyone, for one thing.”

“Except yourself.” Landry yawned. “And possibly the Sterling Chase impersonator out in the living area you so loudly proclaimed was not your boyfriend, after leading him on a merry chase all weekend, sleeping all night with him—according to Kenji’s texts, dragging him to Philly with you in the dead of night and holding his hand while he stared at you with big puppy eyes like he thought you were personally responsible for the sunrise. Gotta say, for all my faults, I’ve never treated anyone I slept with quite that shittily, so well done, you, for setting that bar so low.”

“Shittily? He wanted to come with me,” I corrected.

“No, I mean barking at me about him not being anything special. About not being your boyfriend. You didn’t need to be so callous about it. Way to claim your real feelings.”

“That’s not…” I began, then hesitated, feeling my face go hot. “It isn’t…” I tried once more, running a hand through my hair. “We aren’t…”

My thoughts were tangled inside my brain. I wanted to deny all of what he was saying—that I hadn’t done any of those things and that Rowe definitely hadn’t looked at me that way, but the words stuck in my throat. I had denied Rowe the chance to talk about his project, the one thing that meant almost the most to him in the world.

And that was shitty.

Landry narrowed his eyes, and for the first time all morning, I felt like he really looked at me. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. No.” I blew out a breath that sounded like a frustrated groan and sank down onto the side of the bed, near Landry’s knee. “I don’t know.”

He sat forward, bending his legs. “Talk to me.”

I opened my mouth. Shut it again. “I don’t even know where to start. God, this is so absurd. Seriously, the most overly emotional, ridiculous—”

“All my favorite things. You came to the right place.” Landry prodded my shoulder. “Go on.”

“I like the guy,” I admitted. “I… care about him. I’m attracted to him, yes, but it’s… more than that. I think. And I know what you’re gonna say, okay? I’ve known the guy for a day and a half. And none of it was real—he lied about being Sterling Chase nearly the whole time; I lied about being his assistant, too. And even though we talked about all that and why he lied, he still has a project he wants funded—”

“I know.”

“What? How?”

“From Dev.” Landry rolled his eyes. “Honestly, do you never check the group chat?”

Rarely, and especially not this weekend. “Then you know what all the others—Dev, Silas, even Kenji— are saying. Rowe can’t be trusted. I’m getting in too deep too fast. I run a billion-dollar company, and he delivers burritos. There’s no future between us—I can’t fathom what one would look like, even if I were sure I wanted one. I assure you, I know all of that. I knew this weekend with him was a one-time thing.”

I waited for Landry to say something cutting, but all he said was “And?”

“ And ? Nothing.” I worried my top lip and stared at the artwork over the bed without really seeing it. “ And I don’t know. I mean, Jesus, what do you do when you feel drawn to someone, but the situation is all wrong? When you feel like you know someone, and they know you, but it was probably all just the heat of the moment or the novelty of the thing? What do you do when you don’t want to let someone go, but there’s no room for them to stay because you already know what your priorities are? The potential for this to go staggeringly wrong is just… enormous.”

Landry watched me pensively for a long moment before speaking. “You remember the night before we sold ETC?”

“Huh?” I blinked and focused on him. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You were a nervous wreck.” He grinned suddenly. “We were still crammed into that little office over by the Flatiron that barely fit three desks for the five of us because it was all we could afford when we left New Haven, and we’d stuck there because it was easier than moving, remember? The other guys were exhausted that night because you’d made us go over everything for the hundredth time—the system, the notes, the contracts that our lawyer had already gone over with us. Finally, Silas went to grab food, and Zane and Dev went back to that shitty apartment we were renting, but you were still working, working, working. Compulsively.”

“Yes, I know.” I scrubbed both hands over my face. “I’m a workaholic. Sterling Chase is my life. That’s the problem .”

“Shhh. Don’t interrupt. So, that night, I was waiting around for you, but you kept biting my head off. ‘Five more minutes, Landry. Five more minutes. Can’t you see I’m busy?’ without even looking up from your desk. And finally, I snapped. I was like, ‘I am hungry. I am tired. It’s the middle of the night. What the fuck, Sebastian? There is no more to do here.’ And you looked up at me, right? And you said, ‘But what if I’m wrong, Landry? What if we weren’t supposed to sell? What if there was more for us to do?’ I was so used to seeing you as this guy who was born with money and privilege, who had confidence baked into his pores, and you were practically paralyzed by second-guessing yourself. I’d never seen you like that before or since. Freaked me out.”

I grunted. “I remember you decided the best course of action was to fuck up the router so I couldn’t get online anymore and force me out the door because your pizza was getting cold. Thank you for reminding me of this happy time in our history. Why are we still friends?”

Landry laughed—not mocking or self-deprecating, but a real, genuine laugh—and shoved my shoulder. “My strategy worked, didn’t it? You do supportive friendship your way, and I’ll do it mine, m’kay? My point is, you were nervous because you cared, Bash. You didn’t want to make a mistake or let anyone down. And so, if this thing with that guy out there—” He nodded toward the living area. “—has got you this unsure? I say that’s a good thing. It’s easy to take risks when you’re not so invested in the outcome, but the biggest payoffs happen when you are. And I trust your instincts. I always have. So if you think there’s something there, or there could be something there? Then go after it with that single-minded Sebastian Dayne intensity that made us billionaires, man.”

He made it sound so easy. “But… how? It’s way more complicated than you’re making it. Rowe doesn’t know about ETC or who founded the company, and I can’t tell him. I’ve only spent a handful of hours with him. I don’t know if I can actually trust him not to be using me for contacts or social capital, like—”

“Like Justin.” Landry’s voice hardened. “Yeah, that’s valid. Has Rowe been asking you for shit, trying to get you to give him money for his project? Because that’s a whole other situation.”

“He hasn’t asked me for anything.” I swallowed, remembering last night. How close I’d been to telling Rowe truths. How much we’d talked about my work, even when I’d made him promise he wouldn’t talk about his. “The opposite, actually. I asked him not to talk about his project with me, and he didn’t. At least not yet.”

Landry nodded slowly. “So why not get to know him? Bash, that promise we made to our brotherhood… It was never supposed to be a forever thing, was it? If we can’t ever share our lives with anyone else, that would really suck since I’m not remotely attracted to any of you fuckers, and none of you have ever had the good taste to be attracted to me.”

A startled laugh erupted from my chest. “No. I… I don’t know.”

“And how are you supposed to tell if Rowe’s trustworthy unless you take the chance of trusting him, at least a little?”

“I don’t know that, either,” I admitted.

“All this not-knowing,” Landry teased. “No wonder you’re going out of your mind, Big Daddy.”

“You’ve gotta stop with that nickname,” I said severely. “That’s not going to be a thing.”

Landry’s mischievous smile told me he was going to ensure that it was .

“You’re such an ass.”

He plumped the pillow behind him, closed his eyes, and settled in, like he was about to go to sleep. “I know. I love you, too. Do you feel better?”

“Shockingly? Yes.” I hadn’t come to Philly expecting a pep talk, and sure as hell not from Landry, but he’d delivered in spades. “I’m still worried about you. The stuff you’ve been doing—”

Landry sighed and opened one eye. “I promise, Sebastian, I have things under control. Mostly. And I would never let anything happen to Zane or to any of you. Okay?”

My chest squeezed at the sincerity in his voice. “Okay.”

“Now, go forth and fuck the sweet young thang who’s waiting for you.” Landry shut his eyes again. “He probably likes hearing you talk a lot more than I do.”

I snorted. I was pretty sure Landry was right about that. And there was for sure no shortage of stuff for Rowe and me to talk about. I took a deep breath and pushed to my feet, feeling a surge of hopeful energy despite my fatigue.

I wanted to know about Rowe’s project. I wanted to hear about this big idea that had gotten him so excited he’d saved up all his pennies and come to New York to make it happen. I wanted to help him with it if I could. I wanted to hear more about his sister and their antics as kids. I wanted to tell him about my friends and how amazing they were. I wanted to show him the most beautiful places I’d ever been so that I could enjoy them again through his eyes. I wanted to pull him into my arms and kiss his gorgeous face until he was breathless.

I was ready to stop holding back. And I was ready to tell Rowe so.

But when I got out to the living area, he was gone.

Rowe

I was afraid I was getting a little too good at the lying thing. When Bash had locked himself away in the room with his friend, I’d assured him I was fine, but as I retreated to the sitting area and perched awkwardly on the arm of one of the horrible sofas, I realized that was the opposite of the truth.

During the hour-long ride to Philadelphia, I’d nestled up against Bash’s chest, pretending to sleep, listening to his heart thump steadily beneath my ear, and tried to remember how I’d gotten to this place. Everything had seemed so simple two nights ago—sneak into the gala, sweet-talk Justin Hardy into a meeting, make him fall in love with Project Daisy Chain, then resume my perfectly good life in Linden, with my job and my aging parents and my secondhand furniture and an iPad full of interior designs that might never become reality.

It had seemed like enough.

But then there’d been Bash—gorgeous, brilliant, funny, deeply kind Bash—who’d gone along with my schemes, and listened to my truths, and made me feel like my dreams weren’t distant twinkling stars but ripe fruit just waiting to be picked. I could feel myself falling for him, and it scared me. A lot.

“Here you go, cutie. You look like you need this.” Noelle, the PR person, wandered over with a friendly smile and a can of energy drink she thrust into my hand. “Are you a friend of Zee’s? What did you say your name was again?”

“Rowe.” I took the can and fiddled with the tab uncertainly. “And no, I’ve never met Za—Zee before this morning. Love his music, though.”

“Interesting.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “You must be friends with the male model, then? Or with Bash Dayne? Are you two dating?”

“Ha. No.” Only in my dreams. “I’m just here as Bash’s moral support, kinda.” I shrugged.

“Aww. That’s sweet of you.” She smirked a little. “What do you do, Rowe?”

“I…” I opened my mouth to answer, then shut it again with a clack. Belatedly—and I blamed this on how damn tired I was—I noticed the gleam in Noelle’s eye and realized she wasn’t asking a friendly question. More likely, she was working on a press release.

Zee Barlo Rescued from Jail by Male Model, Wealthy Investor… and Part-Time Burrito Bandito.

I felt my cheeks go hot.

In real life, I rarely felt bad about myself. I was a good person. I worked hard. I tried my best to help people. I never worried about how much money I had, except when I didn’t have enough of it to make ends meet, or how I didn’t have a fancy degree, except when it prevented me from getting the meetings I wanted. I was proud that I’d grown up in tiny Linden. I liked that most of my clothes were high-quality designer labels I’d gotten from a thrift store.

But suddenly, I felt mercilessly exposed and vulnerable, worse even than at the polo match or the gala. A headline like that would make a laughingstock out of everyone involved. A giant game of one of these things does not belong . And worst of all, it would be true.

A clock somewhere in the suite chimed the hour, and I felt a bubble of frantic laughter erupt from my chest. Midnight’s come, Cinderella. Isn’t it time you were going home?

I shoved the unopened can toward Noelle, and she took it in surprise. “Sorry, I… I just remembered I needed to do… a thing.”

“But… don’t you want to wait…?” Noelle called to my back.

I ignored her.

I hightailed it out of the suite, and instead of taking the elevator to the lobby, where the press had been camped out, I pushed open the heavy door to the stairs and clattered down them, breath heaving like something might catch me and drag me back.

I should be used to disappointment. I was used to it.

Let the boy do his thing in New York, Muriel, if he’s bound and determined. It’s never gonna go anywhere. He’ll be back home with us soon enough.

Whoa! No kissing. This was just a handjob. I’m not gay, Prince. There’s no future here.

Dear Mr. Prince, Thank you for your interest in Sterling Chase. While we commend you on the thoroughness of your research, we do not feel that your “Project Daisy Chain” merits further development by our company at this time. Sincerely, Austin Purcell.

But this disappointment was worse than anything that had come before because despite my best efforts, sometime in the night, I’d allowed a tiny germ of hope to set down roots in my heart that, just this one time, things would work out. That finding a way to keep Bash in my life would be as easy as falling for him had been.

“Rowe Prince,” I whispered to myself angrily, blinking away hot tears. “Of all the ridiculous things you’ve done this weekend, this might be the worst.”

I got caught up.

A-fucking-gain.

When I ran out of stairs to descend, I leaned against the wall in the stairwell and took stock of the situation.

I was a mess. Two days of lies and impersonations, heartfelt confessions, brain-melting longing, heart-pounding sex, zero actual sleep, and way too many feelings had left me completely empty. Stick a fork in me, I’m done , as Daisy used to say.

I had no reserves left for goodbyes that were bound to be awkward (for Sebastian) and painful (for me). I wasn’t up to the task of riding in his car back to New York, trying not to look at his handsome face while forcing cheerful conversation to hide my feelings. And I absolutely couldn’t handle him offering me business contacts out of pity or obligation.

It was better this way. Safer for everyone. Bash would feel guilty when he found that I’d left—he took his responsibilities to people seriously, after all, which was why he’d come to Philly in the first place—but ultimately, I hoped he’d be glad.

Of course, that meant I was now stuck here with nothing but the clothes on my back, seventeen dollars in my pocket, no leads for my project, and no way to get home, which meant that my feelings were the least of my worries.

I ran a hand over my face and straightened, then took out my phone and dialed Joey’s number.

“Rowe!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Thank fuck you called.”

“Hey—” I began.

“Shit, I was getting worried. You went radio silent. And I was like, is he okay? Is he just too busy fucking the rich guy to call me? But also… I have so much to tell you, bro. The fast-food delivery game moves pretty fast, and if you don’t keep up, the Sandwich Shark will take you down. Damn sexy motherfucker,” he muttered.

“What? Joey—”

“No, no. It’s cool. It’s fine.” He hesitated. “Mostly. I think. But FYI, I had to add a couple moves to the Burrito Bandito delivery dance. You know, so I could win the dance-off? There’s, like, a hip-shimmy now after the toe-kick and then kind of a bump-and-grind thing? I’ll demonstrate later.”

Dance-off? What the fuck? “Joey.”

“Oh, and I’m playing around with lyrics for a second verse of the song. I just need to figure out something sexy that rhymes with salsa. Falls- ah is as close as I’ve gotten. Like, when you taste our salsa, in love you’re gonna falls-ah. ”

“Joey, stop.”

“I know, I know, it’s shit. We can workshop it when you get back. I just wanted you to know—”

“Joey!” I yelled. “Chill for a second. I need your help.”

Joey paused for a beat, and when he spoke again, his voice was serious. “Whatever you need, Rowe. You know that.”

“I need you to come get me,” I blurted. “I’m in Philly. I came here with Bash, and we… I… he…”

Joey blew out a breath. “Bro.”

“No, I know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But it’s done now.” I sniffed, swearing at myself under my breath.

“Are you okay?” Joey demanded. “’Cause if that fucker laid a hand on you—”

“God, no! I just… I confessed everything. He knows who I am now. And it was kinda time for me to go. But I don’t know if I have enough money to catch the train back, and I haven’t slept, really, and I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep and end up at the wrong stop or something, and…”

“Say no more. Lea let me have the Burrito Mobile for the day so I could go on a supply run. Pretty sure I officially work here now. You’re lucky it’s Sunday. Text me an address, okay?”

I couldn’t even care that Joey was driving down to get me in a red-and-yellow food truck. “Yeah. Thanks, Joey. I owe you big.”

I took a deep breath and emerged from the stairwell into the lobby. Fortunately, all the newspeople from earlier had dispersed already, and I didn’t see Bash or his friends, so I strolled directly out the front door. A block down the street, I spotted a used bookstore and texted Joey the address before ducking inside and attempting to lose myself in the stacks.

In the back of the store, I found an empty reading nook with an overstuffed armchair in the self-help section and sank down gratefully to wait, but the books mocked me from their places on the shelves. When Sorry Isn’t Good Enough. I’m Telling the Truth, But I’m Lying. The Key to Success: Stop Trying So Hard!

My phone buzzed with a string of incoming texts from a number I didn’t have stored.

Unknown: Rowe? What the fuck? Where did you go?

Unknown: Did Noelle say something to you? She claims you freaked out for no reason, but I don’t believe her.

Unknown: Come back. Please. We have things to talk about.

I felt the tears coming again and blinked them back as I shoved my phone away without responding.

No more tears. Not for this. I’d been through shit things before. I knew what terrible loss felt like. And this was not it. It wasn’t. This was the consequences of my own actions, inevitable as gravity.

Of course Bash was being wonderful. Protective and sweet. I’d expect nothing less. But it wasn’t real. There was no universe where his life and mine would ever have intersected if I hadn’t told the biggest lie of my life.

I blew out a breath, feeling my whole body flash hot and then cold. What was I doing?

The whole time I’d been developing Project Daisy Chain, I’d focused solely on the project itself. If the EMTs had access to her medical records or communicated with an ER doc during the trauma response, she might have lived, so ambulances needed better ways of communicating with area hospitals to optimize treatment in the field, not to mention delivery to the best hospital for the problem rather than the closest one. The amount I’d known about emergency communications, hospital resources, and even the technology involved in designing a solution to the problem could have fit in one of my mom’s collectible thimbles. So I’d focused single-mindedly on learning what I needed, on creating the solution by improving what was there.

I’d been so focused on the overwhelming goodness of what I’d been trying to achieve I hadn’t let myself think about who I was becoming. I’d decided that the end justified the means, even when it meant lying.

And this was where I’d ended up.

I’d never considered what it felt like when Cinderella crashed back to Earth after her one brilliant night of dancing. Of how much more terrible it felt to put your rags back on when you knew for a fact how amazing the life just out of your reach could be.

For the first time since… well, since I’d dreamed up Project Daisy Chain, I wondered if maybe it was time to pack it all in and head home.

Bobby would happily give me my job back at the Tech Barn, and the guys would only give me shit about my “pie-in-the-sky” idea for a little while. I knew my parents would be happy to forget I’d ever had a business idea, just like they’d be thrilled if I finally started dressing like a normal person and stopped cluttering the garage with cast-off furniture that needed love. After I’d worked for a few weeks, I’d mail Sebastian a check for at least part of the money he’d spent on me, and I’d try, somehow, to apologize for pretending to be someone I wasn’t, even knowing he would have easily moved on by then.

I could have a good life. A stable life. An honest life.

A booooring life , Daisy’s voice in my head insisted, but I ignored it. I was going to tune that voice out entirely from now on. Daisy had been built for adventure, not me.

When my phone buzzed to tell me Joey was out front, I stood up and made my way to the front of the store on shaky knees. I grabbed a dog-eared paperback off the table before I left and plunked it down on the counter in hopes of justifying my protracted stay in the woman’s store.

“That’ll be three-twelve,” she said with an understanding smile. It wasn’t until after I walked out into the bright sunshine that I looked down at my purchase.

You’re Not Enough (and that’s okay).

Great.

I looked up at the sound of the familiar Mariachi jingle that took the place of the horn on the Burrito Mobile. Joey danced in the driver’s seat like the song was a sick beat, and I couldn’t help but breathe out a little laugh. No matter how shitty of a hand he’d been dealt—like having to drive to Philly in a half-broken-down food truck—Joey always found joy in the moment.

I envied him that.

“Hop in,” he called out the window, the hip-hop music on the radio warring with the Mariachi jingle playing outside. “We’re going cruising in this bitch.”

I hauled my dejected ass up onto the torn vinyl passenger seat and yanked my seat belt on. “It’s ten in the morning, Joseph,” I reminded him. “Not the best time for cruising. Besides, don’t you have a supply run to do?”

“ Eh .” Joey shrugged as he pulled back out into traffic. “I had to take a little detour. Lea will understand.”

The hotel loomed large halfway down the next block, and to my horror, a sleek, black car was parked out front.

“Shit.” I ducked down in my seat. “Turn left! Turn left! Don’t go past the hotel!”

He side-eyed me. “You want me to turn left in downtown Philly traffic in a 1985 Chevy P30?” Before I could answer, he swore under his breath. “You could kill someone with those puppy eyes. Swear to fuck.”

The sound of tires screeching and horns blaring barely reached my ears as Migos’s “Taco Tuesday” blared from the speakers with its rich deep bass.

We hurtled onto the side street, cutting off prim hybrids and causing a few pedestrians to step a little livelier. The song was replaced by Kap G’s “José Got Dem Tacos,” which made it very clear there was a horrific playlist theme going on here.

“No,” I said, trying to turn off whatever tricked-out contraption he had connecting his phone to the truck’s old speakers.

“Hold, hold, hold,” he said, flapping my hand away. “It gets better. Wait for it.”

Rhianna’s voice began to croon, with Eminem’s following soon after. I glared at my asshole cousin. “‘Love the Way You Lie’? Really? Are you trying to make me open the truck door and dive into fucking traffic?”

His familiar chuckle was comforting despite my annoyance. “I made a playlist for you. I didn’t know I’d get to play it for you on a road trip, but life is always full of unexpected good shit, isn’t it?”

Was it? I remembered I used to think that, but the memory felt faint and old.

Selena Gomez began singing “Bad Liar,” so I grabbed his phone, yanked out the cord, and threw it behind us, deep into the bowels of the food truck. The silence lasted a beat before I could have sworn the tinny sound of Beyoncé and Shakira’s “Beautiful Liar” made its way out of the shadows.

“I hate you,” I said.

“Don’t diss the Queen.” He glanced over at me, twin lines of concern marred the space between his messy brows. “I hope you know the way home because that phone was our navigator.”

After I pulled up the nav on my own phone and connected it to his cable, I closed my eyes in hopes of catching some sleep.

That lasted less than three seconds before my cousin nudged me. Hard .

“Nah, nah, nah. No sleeping until you spill.”

“Don’t wanna,” I murmured without opening my eyes. “Tired.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna . I see.” His oddly soft voice trailed off before he barked, “Too bad, cuz! I stayed up late last night watching a hot twink get dicked down by a pair of gym bros, and I’m about to fall asleep at the wheel if you don’t give me something to stay awake for.”

My eyes flew open, and I stared at him in shock. “G-gym bros? Dicked down ?” I shook my head, fighting off my fatigue. “What happened to the Sandwich Shark? What happened to Chloe? What happened to you being straight ?”

His mouth widened in a gotcha grin. “Woke your ass up, now, didn’t I?”

“Wait. Was that all a lie? Are you straight?”

“Bro. It’s a new millennium here. I like to think of myself as free from the encumbrance of labels.”

“Uh. Okay. But, like, you and Chloe…”

He shrugged a little dejectedly. “Chloe likes to think of herself as free from the encumbrance of me.”

“Ouch.” I reached over and gently punched his shoulder with my knuckles. “But wait, the gym bros…”

He waved this off. “It was some high-quality porn. And my story time will come later. It’s your turn now. And I made a mad dash to your rescue, princess, so you can at least tell me why.”

I sighed and told him what happened, leaving out graphic details with a mumbled “And then we hooked up” before continuing on to the reasons I’d left and the fact that Bash had tried to reach out.

“I’m thinking it’s time for me to grow up,” I concluded. “To stop wasting time with this project, once and for all. This is not gonna end happily.”

Joey held up a finger. “Okay, pause. First, if the musician you’re talking about is Zee Barlo, we’re going to put a giant pin in that for later discussion. And put a pin in the hookup thing, too.”

“Right next to the pin for the gym bros?”

Joey ignored me. “Now, let’s focus on the part of the story where my favorite cousin, Rowe, Aunt Muriel’s li’l baby cupid—”

“Oh, Jesus, do not bring that up.”

“—decided he wanted to be a sad sack of self-pity and bullshit excuses.”

I shot him a glare. “That’s not what I said.”

“You sure? ’Cause that’s what I heard you say. Walking away from your business idea because of a setback—?”

“It was a little more than a setback,” I said angrily. “Did you hear the part where I failed to talk to Justin Hardy, my last hope? And I can’t ask Bash for contacts, Joey. I refuse. I don’t want him to think this was all about using him.”

“So we find another way! Dude. Dude . We’re Princes, and Princes don’t quit. This is the part where the story is getting good.”

I shook my head. “I’m out of ideas, Joey. I’m out of money. I’m out of… energy. And I feel like shit for lying. This isn’t quitting. It’s moving on.”

“Nope. Unacceptable. You’ve got at least one more try in you.”

I leaned back into the lumpy headrest, stared out the windshield, and groaned. “You don’t know that. I’ve contacted so many people already. It’s not that easy.”

He huffed out a laugh. “No, you know what’s not easy? Doing a backflip while holding a tiny guitar and a bag of burritos. But some of us manage it.”

I blinked at the road for a moment, then turned fully in my seat and gawked at him. “A backflip? What the hell ?”

“Shhh. It’s all under control. The point is, Princes know how to do hard shit. You got a crush on someone you think is out of your league, and that sucks. Now, maybe he is and maybe he isn’t, but that’s a problem for another day. Don’t tie all that up with whether you can or can’t succeed with your project, Rowe. Focus on one problem at a time. Don’t just turn tail and run back to Indiana.” He shook his head. “Jeez. And people call me a Drama Llama.”

“No they don’t.” I tilted my head. “Who called you that?”

“I dunno.” Joey’s cheeks went red. “People.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, let’s get back to the original plan. You need to talk to Justin Hardy, so let’s figure out a way to get that done.”

I shook my head. “Bash said he’s not a good guy. He’s a user.”

Joey made a rude sound with his tongue and shot a bird over his shoulder in the general direction of Philadelphia. “Well, fuck Bash. He could hear your pitch anytime, and fund it, too, but he wouldn’t even listen.”

“Stop it.” I pointed a finger at him angrily. “Bash is generous to a fault. He gives to charities. He devotes his time and energy to helping small businesses succeed. When his friends need him in the middle of the night, he runs to help. But he’s not an ATM machine, and he doesn’t owe anyone his money or his contacts or his influence.”

Joey rolled his eyes. “God, you’ve got it bad. Okay, fine, he’s a lovely human. But he’s still on the board at Sterling Chase, and Justin Hardy is one of their biggest competitors. Asking him if you should pitch to his archnemesis is like asking me if you should eat at Sandwich Shark. Which you should not . No matter how tasty their chicken parm is or how generous their portions. Understand?”

“No… but I’m kinda craving Italian now. Kidding, kidding,” I said when Joey glared at me. “You’re saying Bash is biased against Justin Hardy because they’re competitors.”

“Doesn’t that make sense? I mean… did he tell you why he didn’t like Justin? Specifically?”

“Well… no. There’s history there, but I don’t know what it is.”

“So, there you go. When you make your pitch to Justin, you can form your own opinion. We just need to think of a way to get you inside his office.”

“Right.” I huffed. “Back to the drawing board, in other words?”

Before Joey could retort, his cell began playing “The Imperial March” from Star Wars somewhere in the back of the truck. “Shit. It’s Lea. Call her on your phone, will you? Tell her I’m just about to start the supply run.”

I dialed Lea, and the phone barely rang before she answered. “Rowe! Thank goodness. Are you with Joey?”

“Yeah, we—”

“Listen, stop him before he goes shopping. We just got a huge lunch catering order for later this week, so I’m texting him an updated supply list. And I need all hands on deck Thursday for delivery. You, Joey, everyone.”

“Not a problem,” I told her. I relayed the information to Joey, who grunted. Apparently he really did work there now. “We’ll be there—”

Joey pulled over, braking so hard my phone flew out of my hand, and I’d have hit the windshield if I wasn’t buckled in. “Holy shit!” he cried. “Holy shit, I’ve got it! The way into Hardy Development. It’s so fucking obvious. Rowe, why didn’t we think of this?”

“Think of what? Joey, you nearly killed us!”

“You deliver him a burrito,” Joey said, eyes wide like this genius plan had just been delivered to him in an ayahuasca vision. “You find yourself the best outfit Second Chance Savers has to offer, then make a burrito delivery to Justin Hardy. Hit him where it counts. In his belly . Then, once you’ve got him where you want him, boom , pitch the deal and leave him gagging for more.”

I blinked. Why the fuck hadn’t I thought of that? Joey’s metaphors left a little to be desired, but I could see the spark of brilliance in the plan. And, hell, desperate times truly did call for desperate measures. If this was going to be my last chance before giving up and moving back home to Indiana, I needed to make it count.

“That… that might actually work.” Optimism flooded through me like oxygen after a long time underwater. “I need to try, right?”

“Fuck yes.”

“And also… one thing I learned from Bash is that I’ve been thinking about this pitch all wrong. I’ve been hoping people would be bowled over by the idea of improving emergency response outcomes, but I need to be more convincing about how it could potentially be profitable .” I chewed my lip. “I can try to figure that out. I just need some time, and I don’t know if I have it.”

“You do. Bro, you have no idea how many tips I’ve scored delivering burritos this weekend. I can float you for a week or two.”

“I can’t let you—”

“Yeah, you really can. For this? For Daisy? I insist.”

Another week or two. Time to hone my pitch and make it count. To give it one final shot, for Daisy’s sake. Time to focus on what I could have and not what—and who—I couldn’t. I could absolutely do that.

Or so I thought.

Until Thursday came.