Chapter 9

NINE

ZANE

Bears don’t take betrayal lightly. They have an uncanny sense of loyalty, and if you cross them, you’re done. In the wild, respect is a two-way street, honey is earned, not stolen, and a bear will make sure a betrayer doesn’t stick around for long. Mess with the honey and you’ll feel the claws.

—Bear Facts for Insomniacs, Episode 34

The string of flights from Barlo, Georgia, to ?rsta, Norway, was long, but the more distance we put between the site of the stamping incident and myself, the more relaxed I became.

Bear was right. I would have been a nervous wreck if we’d continued on to New York as planned, knowing there was someone out there trying to prove they could get to me.

By the time we pulled through the gates to the secluded property Bear had rented, I was ready to get outside and move my body.

“I’m going for a walk,” I said, inhaling the fresh cold air. “Is that okay? It looks like there’s a fence around the property. ”

Bear and Lou exchanged a look I was very familiar with. Before they could tell me no, I added, “Let me be clear. I am going for a walk. If you’d like me to wait a few minutes or take one of you along, that’s fine. But I can’t spend another moment sitting down.”

Bear stretched his arms up and leaned his muscled torso from side to side, looking a little sleepy and disgruntled… exactly like the animal I’d named him for. His crumpled button-down shirt was half-untucked, and the motion exposed a glimpse of a furry happy trail leading down into royal blue underwear behind the low waistband of his jeans. My eyes locked onto the sight like a starving cub who’s just spotted a salmon.

“I’m very happy to take a walk,” he said. He dropped his arms, cutting off the stellar view of his happy trail, and I blinked and looked around. “Lou?”

“Nah.” Lou tilted her head toward the gatehouse we’d passed as we’d entered the property. Two men in dark trousers and sweaters had let us in while actively monitoring a bank of monitors showing security camera feeds. “I’m going to touch base with those guys and get settled in.”

On the plane, Bear had explained that he’d selected this property because of its built-in security staff. Apparently, it had been built originally by a minor Norwegian royal who’d upgraded to a newer place farther north. I couldn’t imagine an upgrade nicer than this.

The property was incredible, perched above a fjord with jaw-dropping views in every direction. The house itself sat on a peninsula. Its clapboard siding was painted red, set off by a dark roof. Giant windows looked out from three sides, and a large deck jutted out from the side facing the water, providing the perfect view of the mountain peaks across the fjord.

Behind the house was an open, grassy field leading to tree-covered hills I was eager to explore. I waited impatiently for Bear to tighten the laces on one of his shoes, and then we set off.

Within five minutes, I was already feeling more settled in my skin. The sky was a light, steely blue, and the silence around us was broken only by the sound of the wind through the trees and across the water. The leaves seemed to be in their peak autumnal splendor, and the air felt just shy of bracing. It was the kind of day I’d only seen in Hallmark movies growing up, when the air was cold enough to turn your nose and cheeks pink and fresh enough to brighten your eyes. The leaves floated on the wind in reds and oranges.

“You picked the right place,” I admitted. “How did you find it?”

“I came here once with King Asger and Prince Gerhard’s oldest son, Auden, years ago on a grandfather-grandson trip. Auden had been caught cheating in school, and Asger was convinced it was because he and Gerhard hadn’t been present enough in the boy’s life. The trip was his attempt to correct that.”

“Did it work?”

“Surprisingly, yes. They spent a lot of time talking about tradition and reputation, about the burden of being born into the royal family and the privileges that helped balance out the responsibilities. Asger was a good man, and that trip was one of the first times I got to see that part of him. Auden always looked up to his grandfather, but that trip really made an impact on him, too. He seemed to grow up a little and start to embrace his role. He began to emulate Asger and aspire to be just like him.”

“Auden must have been devastated when the king died. Both of them, really. Gerhard and Auden.”

“Mm. I can’t even imagine. I’m glad they have Gisella. She’s very fun-loving. A great mom and wife. Hopefully, she’ll balance out Gerhard’s strict stodginess and remind Auden not to take himself too seriously.”

We reached the tree line and continued into the small forest on a path that looked well traveled by the property’s summer visitors.

“I had a friend like that in college,” I said. “Bodhi, actually.”

“Asshole,” Bear coughed.

A laugh bubbled up unexpectedly. “He’s not an asshole.”

“Remind me again what he said about your teeth.”

Bear’s growly, instinctive protectiveness surrounded me like a warm blanket and made things in the vicinity of my heart get tight… to say nothing of the situation in my jeans.

Instead of luxuriating in the warmth, though, I forced myself to wave his words away. I concentrated on walking faster and the rhythmic crunch, swish of my feet on the leaf-strewn ground.

“Bodhi was young and stupid,” I said. “That was one of the things I liked about him. I took myself incredibly seriously at Yale. Felt like I had something to prove. Bodhi convinced me to live a little. Have some fun. Make time for music in the midst of all the academics. He taught me about balance.” I thought about it for a moment and added with a smile, “And my teeth were genuinely awful.”

“I think he sounds like a shithead. A jealous, immature shithead who wanted to make you feel bad,” Bear grumbled.

I snickered. “Hardly. I helped him get seen in the music world. Bodhi always wanted to play drums professionally, and now he does.”

Bear glanced at me. “That’s rare.”

I nodded. “It’s not easy to make a living as a musician.”

“No, I mean it’s rare for you to take credit for helping someone.”

My face heated, but I hoped I could pass it off as exertion from walking uphill. “Bodhi was grateful, and he’s very supportive. When I stopped using Noelle as my publicist, he did the same?—”

“Zane, Noelle was incompetent. Any idiot would have left her after learning how she and her PR team almost ‘publicized’ you right into state prison.”

He wasn’t wrong. “Still. Bodhi is good people. I got an email from him this morning, actually. I asked him why he never showed at Shaky Knees, and he said he did —he actually really wanted to talk to me—but security wouldn’t give him access to my dressing room after the show.”

I wrinkled my nose. Bear had locked everything down after hearing about the Stamper, and I didn’t blame him one bit, but I hated that Bodhi might have felt unwanted after making an effort to see me.

“Anyway,” I went on, “he’s playing a few gigs somewhere in Ireland, I think, so he’ll be at the Amsterdam show. He asked if I could arrange another VIP pass for him. Kinda cool that the two of us will both be playing in Europe at the same time, huh?”

“Do you think it’s interesting that he’s picked now to ‘really want to talk to you’?”

“Nope. He does this every few years. It usually coincides with him breaking up with a guy. Bodhi doesn’t do solo very well, in music or in his personal life. He probably just needs a shoulder to cry on.”

“Hmm.”

I’d gotten to know Bear well enough in the past year to recognize when he was holding himself back from stating his opinions.

I’d also gotten to know him well enough to know exactly what those opinions were.

First, Bear thought Bodhi was a hanger-on, like certain members of my family. He thought our friendship was mostly one-sided. He’d almost definitely put Bodhi on a short list of possible stampers and was having him investigated by Violet’s team. I knew Bear was wrong about this part, at least—Bodhi might be a little self-absorbed, but he wasn’t dangerous—but I knew better than to waste my breath explaining. Especially not when Bear’s protectiveness felt so damn nice.

More importantly, though, it was Bear’s opinion that I should cancel the remaining tour dates.

“I know you’re over there perseverating on my insistence to still do these shows,” I began.

“Yale grads sure do like their big words,” he said, not for the first time. I glanced away to keep from staring at the edge of his lip that was turned up from teasing me.

“Articulating your vitriol is superfluous,” I said with a sniff. “You imply I’m loquacious, which is a definitive juxtaposition with your previous implication I’m cautious and perspicacious. And totes adorbs.”

Bear’s brown eyes lightened and crinkled at the corners when he laughed out loud. My heart leapt into my throat at the sight. “I don’t remember saying totes adorbs, and we both know it doesn’t sound like something I’d say at all.”

I flicked my hair over my shoulder. “But I am, though. Right?”

He stopped and turned to face me. All traces of his smile were gone. “ People magazine named you the Sexiest Man Alive,” he said, reaching out to untangle the hoodie cords at the front of my throat. “It’s too bad they don’t have a Totes-iest Adorbs-iest contest.” The words sounded comical in his deep and steady voice. His eyes flicked up to meet mine. “You’d nail it every time.”

My breath came in short, insufficient bursts like air dragged through a broken straw. “So… not sexy, then?”

What in the world had gotten into me? My question was inappropriate and provoking. Almost… flirty. What the hell was I thinking?

“No…” he said, and my stomach dropped.

But then he continued softly. “ People got it right.” He turned back to the trail to continue walking. “They just failed to add you’re the sweetest, too.”

I stared after him. My stomach was a tumble of rabid snakes, all lifting their heads up to ask what the fuck had just happened.

Had Ryan Galloway—my stoic, professional, grumpy Bear—just called me sexy and sweet?

“You done stretching your legs?” he called back over his shoulder.

“N-no,” I admitted.

“Then quit standing around, and let’s go.”

We spent the rest of the walk in silence as I replayed the exchange in my mind. Was it possible Bear was just trying to be nice because he knew I’d been thrown by the threatening email?

Or was he simply stating a fact that didn’t much matter to him—like “Yeah, Zane’s a nice guy, and I guess I can see why people call him sexy, even though he definitely doesn’t do it for me”—kind of like the way I found Gal Gadot objectively sexy with her deep voice, even though I didn’t want to sleep with her?

Surely this was like that. Just because Bear could see why I’d been voted Sexiest Man Alive didn’t mean he found me sexy himself .

He wouldn’t.

Of course he wouldn’t.

Not if he was straight like I assumed he was—like everyone except possibly Landry assumed he was.

But… what if he wasn’t?

That night, I fell asleep fantasizing about what it would be like if he wasn’t straight. I imagined the two of us on a secluded beach with Bear in nothing but a tiny scrap of a swimsuit and the sun lovingly lighting up all of the hard planes of his body. I imagined rubbing sunscreen into his warm skin, fingers skating over firm, muscled bumps and the dark fur of his happy trail…

But somehow, the scene turned strange and dark. An old, rusted fishing vessel bobbed offshore, and the screech of metal on metal split the air every time the captain lowered the booms with the nets into the water.

“They’ll catch something alright,” an old woman said from down the beach. A cigarillo bobbed between her lips as she spoke. “Mark my words. They’ll catch him. String him up like a trophy in town.”

Did they mean a trophy fish? I tried to ask, but the words wouldn’t come. Suddenly, I was in a crowded train station, and I couldn’t remember where I was going or which train I needed. I frantically searched the large board overhead in hopes something would jog my memory. People jostled me as they sped past on their way to various platforms. I looked around to find Bear because he would know which train we needed.

“Bear?” I called for him, but no noise came out of my mouth. “Bear!” I tried again and again, but nothing happened. Floods of people moved past me, knocking me first one way and then the other. Someone over a loudspeaker announced the final boarding call for a flight to White Plains. Another voice came on to announce a correction that the flight was actually to Scottsdale. I glanced around to see if anyone else was wondering why they were announcing flights instead of trains, but no one seemed to notice or care.

Was I at an airport? Wasn’t I supposed to be at a train station? Surely my train was here, and I was going to miss it. I looked around for Bear again and spotted Landry across the station. He waved and pointed to the board over my head.

You’re going to be late , he mouthed. Hurry.

“I’m lost!” I shouted, no longer worried about what people would think of me making a scene. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to go!”

This time, the sound came out, but all I heard was my voice shouting, “Bear!” over and over again until I could barely breathe.

“Shhh. I’m here, baby. Shhh. I’ve got you.”

Strong arms grabbed me and pulled me close. Bear’s familiar scent surrounded me. I felt safe. I was no longer alone. Bear would figure out where I needed to go. Bear would take charge and make sure everything was okay. I let myself relax into his embrace.

A vague embarrassment tried to slither into my subconscious, but I was too relieved to feel it.

“Bear,” I breathed. “I don’t know which train. Which platform. Which city.”

His fingers brushed through my hair. “You don’t need to take the train right now. Just sleep.”

I slowed my breathing down. “Are you sure? Everyone is catching a train… or-or a plane. We’re going to be late. For the show?” It was probably a show. We were always on our way to another show.

“No show right now. Just rest time. Maybe you can work on that new song you’ve been humming.”

Faint traces of chords replayed in my memory, a tune I’d been working on but hadn’t had the words to yet. “I’d like that. Need to write it down.”

“Not right now. Right now… will you sing ‘The Solo Hour’ for me?”

Bear loved that one. I’d caught sight of him once backstage, singing along with his eyes closed. I would have teased him about it, but then he might have realized he’d had his eyes closed, and he would have felt like he’d fallen down on the job .

Since there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for him if he asked me, I began singing softly.

After the lights and the cheers

Even after all these years

No one walks with me

Across the deep wide sea

Of empty seats.

I sing to you,

You,

You,

And you…

But when it ends,

I walk home to me.

After the final bow,

After the lights go out

I turn around

And glide into the solo hour…

I hummed the guitar riff, my fingers ghosting over invisible strings.

I’m coming home,

Home to me.

Alone with me.

A place to be,

A place to breathe.

Alone with me.

In the solo hour.

The slow tempo and soft tone did its magic and soothed me deeper into sleep. I felt the ghost of Bear’s arms around me. Smelled traces of him on my pillow. Heard the soft caress of his voice calling me baby .

The dream ended, but the sense of him didn’t. It carried through until I awoke, remembering.

Thankfully, I was alone. Bear had been part of my dream. If I’d woken up in Bear’s arms again, like I had in Atlanta, I would have been mortified. Twice in the span of a week? He would have called a therapist and canceled the next leg of the tour for sure.

I let out a breath and remembered one of the moments from the dream. The fleeting thought that I could spend time working on new music. It was true that I’d had a song on my mind. The tune was almost there, but the words were still elusive.

After showering and dressing in comfortable clothes, I had to admit to being a little relieved we weren’t in New York preparing for a bunch of interviews. Instead, it was another beautiful clear day at the edge of the world.

I breezed out of my bedroom and made my way through the open main room to the kitchen, where Bear was already standing, his hip propped against the counter while he sipped coffee from a mug.

“Morning!”

He glanced at me over the rim of the thick ceramic. “ Mpfh .”

“Sleep okay?”

He peered at me while I walked past him to take in the view through the wide windows. The sun glinted on the water across the fjord.

I didn’t wait for an answer before exclaiming. “This place is amazing! Look at the views. Was it like this when you were here before?”

When he didn’t answer, I glanced back over my shoulder to see him shaking his head. “It was full summer. Very green and warm. Still gorgeous, though.”

Bear’s voice was rough with sleep. I noticed he was barefoot. The denim of his jeans brushed across the arched tops of his long feet on the hardwood floors. There was something vulnerable about seeing him barefoot and drinking coffee while the morning sun lay shimmering stripes across the kitchen around him .

I turned back to the view outside to keep from staring at him. Or jumping him. “I’d ask if you miss Ventdestine, but I’m sure you do, even if just for the winter weather. Hard to biathlon in Southern California.”

“I miss the skiing, sure, but I don’t wish I was still there.”

I glanced over my shoulder again. “You like living in LA?”

He shook his head and took his time swallowing another sip of coffee before explaining. “I like my principal.”

I blinked.

He grinned. “You’re a hundred percent less high-maintenance than Asger Salling and the rest of the royal family.”

“Oh.” I resisted rolling my eyes as I moved over to the coffeepot. For a minute, I’d thought he’d meant something more. That he’d, like, liked me-liked me. Which was ridiculous.

“They probably set a low bar,” I said, imagining that protecting one musician paled in comparison to the challenge of protecting a king.

“They do.”

“And I’m probably way less likely to be shot at,” I said, remembering how he’d come to work for them in the first place and how King Asger had been killed after Bear had left.

Bear’s eyes darkened. “You’d better be.”

He was obviously worried about the threatening email and the target stamp, so I tried to reassure him. “Bear… if they wanted to hurt me, they could have done it already. If they got close enough to stamp me, they were close enough to hurt me. And they chose not to.”

He didn’t say anything, so I scrambled to fill the silence as I poured coffee into a mug. “They’re just trying to scare me. Maybe they’re trying to make me beef up security. Do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

I busied myself adding cream and sugar when a thought came to me. “Maybe it’s a security company who wants my business. What better way than to show they can infiltrate my current security detail? ”

Bear made another grumbling noise under his breath. I knew he thought the mysterious Stamper was right, that my own bodyguard hadn’t been able to protect me, but I also knew I wouldn’t feel nearly as safe with anyone else in charge of my security.

“You should tell Violet my theory,” I said before taking my first sip of coffee.

“I will. It’s not a bad theory.” I could tell he was serious, but I also knew that he would treat the current threat like a harbinger of the apocalypse until he got to the bottom of it.

My pride at contributing in some small way to the investigation carried me through the creation of the world’s best avocado toast breakfast and into the sun-filled glass-enclosed room at the end of the house facing the fjord. There was an overstuffed sofa perfect for curling up on to noodle over my music ideas while Bear prepared for a day full of making sure my European tour was planned with royal precision and a military defense to match.

I expected the two weeks we would spend here would be mostly this: me writing new music in the peaceful and inspiring sunroom and Bear grumbling and pulling his hair out in front of his laptop on the kitchen counter.

But that afternoon, everything changed.

Bear stuck his head into the sunroom. “Lou said you wanted to take another walk?”

I looked up from the scribbled notes I was making on the pad next to me. “Oh, I didn’t mean for her to bother you. I just texted to ask if she could maybe watch me from the cameras if I stay on the path so I could stretch my legs and get some fresh air.”

“I could use a break, and it would be better to go now before the sun goes down. The cameras only cover the fence line.”

I put my guitar down and stood up, stretching my arms up and rolling my shoulders. “You don’t need to babysit me. I can always walk on the treadmill downstairs.”

“Yeah, Zane, it’s a real hardship. Let’s go.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being gruff because he was put out about the walk or stressed from his workday. I knew that my insistence on not canceling the tour dates was adding worry to his life, but I was caught between a rock and a hard place. Canceling the dates to spare Bear and the team meant I’d disappoint thousands of fans and hundreds of event workers. It would become a global news story, and who knew what would happen to my personal security then? Disappointed fans were often dangerous enough, especially if they thought I was being a diva.

As long as my manager, Micki, wasn’t recommending it and the security team wasn’t expressly forbidding it, we would move forward. Too many people were relying on these shows for us to cancel them.

I followed Bear to the entryway and toed my running shoes on. He always had his black boots on, as if he needed to be ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“You sure you don’t mind?” I asked, feeling guilty.

“Zane. It’s my job.”

While his words were true, they still stung a little. After my dream last night in which he’d been kind and comforting, his distance and gruffness in real life felt cold in comparison.

We made our way out to the same trail behind the house we’d explored yesterday. I kept quiet in case he wanted time to himself. He seemed annoyed with me, and I could hardly blame him.

Our entire schedule had been thrown off by this situation, and now we were in the middle of nowhere for a couple of weeks while he doubled his workload, trying to both keep me safe and plan a higher-intensity protection scheme for the remainder of the tour.

I felt guilty for all of the additional work he and the rest of Violet’s team were having to do because of me, like maybe I’d done something to provoke this person—the Stamper—into whatever they were trying to do.

The cold air felt refreshing and invigorating. I drew in a long pull as I felt my muscles warm up and loosen. The scenery was beautiful, and I was grateful to be here instead of the crowded and chaotic city.

Bear pulled ahead of me as the trail narrowed, and my eyes immediately flicked down to his ass. He had an amazing ass. No matter how busy our travel schedule was, he always found time to work out in the gym. I’d even seen him doing squats and stair sprints in hotels when we were on the road. Was it any wonder he had such a perfect muscular butt?

I pulled out my phone for a little distraction, to give myself something else to look at. The phone had been in Focus mode all day as I’d been working, so as soon as I turned off the Focus, messages came streaming in. I clicked into a text from Aunt Rinny right away in case something had happened.

It had.

Rinny

Might need to alert your PR team about John-Keith. That boy’s cornbread ain’t done in the middle. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I tried warning him.

I felt a sense of dread as I clicked through the other notifications. When I got to JK’s social media post, I sucked in a breath.

Is it even possible to be a virgin in your thirties? #CousinConfessions Not saying which one, so don’t ask.

As if the world didn’t know whose cousin he was. The fucker’s profile pic was one of him and me together, and he took every opportunity to post about me. And what other thirties-aged cousin could it be? Pearl was twenty-eight, Horace was forty-one, and while Jayden and Jordyn were thirty-two, both of them were married with kids.

I must have made a noise when I saw the horrendous flood of comments because Bear stopped and demanded to know what was going on. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s fine,” I said, not taking my eyes off the shitshow on my screen. My PR team had to already know, but I needed to get back to the house anyway and prepare for a flood of messages and calls.

“’Course it is,” he ground out. “Give me the phone. Is it another threatening email?”

My fingers began to feel numb. I wasn’t sure if it was from the bite in the air or a combination of nerves and embarrassment from being exposed to the world. I’d been through tons of stuff like this before, so you’d think it would get easier.

It never did.

Bear snatched it out of my hand and barked out a curse as soon as he saw what had happened. “That motherfucker .”

Heat flooded my face. Bear probably thought I was an idiot for confessing my virginal secret to someone completely untrustworthy. Hell, I thought I was an idiot for doing it. But at the same time, I hated not being able to connect with people authentically, especially people I was supposed to be able to trust.

“At least he didn’t mention my name,” I said lamely.

“Zane, everyone knows who he’s talking about. I knew this would happen. That motherfucker. He cannot be allowed to do this.”

“He shouldn’t have done it, I know. But… I feel sorry for him.”

Bear turned to me with an almost comical expression of incredulity on his face. “Sorry for him? Him ?”

I pulled in another breath of cold air. “He’s a little bit jealous… or maybe a lot bit. Doing stuff like this makes him feel like he’s not the loser in the family… by making me seem like a loser instead.”

Bear’s face was a dark storm, his eyes like lightning bolts aimed right at me. “You are not a loser. You are the opposite of a loser, Zane.”

I felt the intensity in my chest and tried to deflect it with a joke. “So, that makes me a winner?”

Bear refused to be distracted. “That man does not get to use you as currency,” he said, pointing his arm back down the hill as if Barlo, Georgia, was in that direction. For all I knew, it was. “He doesn’t get to sell his connection with you to the highest bidder.”

I knew what he meant. JK had been trying to build up a social media presence in order to make bank from it. The guy was desperate for money, which meant Violet’s security team kept an eye on him, knowing he’d be susceptible to bribes for personal information about me. Fortunately, he hadn’t had much personal information about me that I hadn’t already shared freely with the world…

Until now.

“I’ll offer him money to sign an NDA,” I suggested.

“I’ll offer him something else,” he snapped, punching his fist into his palm with a smack. “And you’re not rewarding him for this behavior. No fucking way.”

“Ryan,” I said firmly. “No. It has to be hard for him. He grew up just like me, and yet I lucked into this big?—”

“Lucked? Lucked ? No. And don’t you dare Ryan me.” Those brown eyes I could usually curl up in were practically on fire now with anger on my behalf. “Zane, tell me you don’t actually believe that. You work your ass off. Despite your shitty upbringing, you worked hard enough to get a full ride to a great school. You took advantage of it by working harder still and learning as much as you could so you could pursue your music dream. John-Keith couldn’t even keep the job your uncle got him as an HVAC tech. He didn’t want to wake up on time and do the work.”

I was kind of surprised at the level of detail Bear had picked up from bits and pieces of things said in his presence over the past year. He was right, though. JK had been given many opportunities, including several I’d offered him directly. None of them had interested him.

“He has a job. He’s a lawn care tech,” I said.

Bear closed his eyes and took in a breath before responding. “Yes. Correct. And he’s been doing that work for about five minutes, earning much less than he could if he followed in Bart’s footsteps. We all know where his lucrative weed-killer career is going.”

He was right. But I still tried to give JK the benefit of the doubt because if I agreed with Bear and acknowledged even to myself that my cousin was using me… where did that leave me? With one less person I could count on. With one less person who loved me and who I could consider a true friend. Thousands of screaming fans every night, but in the end… it was just me in the Solo Hour.

I started to walk again, hoping to at least wear out my muscles before having to go inside and face the PR disaster. Bear kept up with me, silently simmering with rage.

“It’s fine,” I said after I realized he wasn’t calming down.

He shot me a look. I’d said the dreaded word.

“But it is,” I insisted. “I warned John-Keith there’d be consequences if this got out. And now… now I’ll cut contact.”

My stomach soured at the idea. JK and I had spent a lot of good times together over the years. Yes, he’d always been a bit shallow and competitive with me, but there’d also been moments of kindness. Like when he’d given me some of his clothes after I came to live with Gran. Or when he snuck me a copy of Mr. Casey’s fourth-period biology quiz so I wouldn’t fail it when I got it in sixth period. It wasn’t his fault I’d already memorized the entire list of terms the night before.

“He’s not a bad guy,” I said softly as I remembered all the times he’d tried looking out for me.

“He’s not a good one, Zane,” he said, still obviously angry as hell. “And you deserve good people in your life. Who the hell exposes someone like that publicly? Who does that to anyone , let alone to his own cousin, the person who’s tried to help him over and over again? You’re such a nice person, and JK just can’t handle it.”

I let out a nervous laugh, feeling suddenly awkward receiving his compliment. “It’s not like that?—”

“It is. He has the privilege of having access to someone as kind and talented and smart and generous as you. He has the privilege of having grown up with you and having memories with you. He has the privilege of having Zane Hendley in his goddamn life… and all he can see is Zee fucking Barlo. When was the last time he asked how you were and meant it? When was the last time he tried to help you ? When was the last time he tried to spend time with you without trying to spin it into an Instagram post? Having you— you, Zane —in his life is a fucking blessing, and he just shits all over it.”

His impassioned rant was unexpected and… really, really nice. But it made me feel flustered.

“You’re taking this too seriously,” I explained. “I’m not that big a deal.”

“You are,” he said without turning to look at me.

“It’s fine,” I assured him. “I promise.”

“Stop saying shit’s fine when it’s not! The moments he gets to spend with you, like that night around the bonfire, are special. His relationship isn’t something he should get to capitalize on. You’re not a fucking commodity!”

“JK doesn’t know better. And I’ve been given so much, I feel bad for him?—”

“You’ve been given nothing you didn’t work for. And your cousin exposed the details of your sex life to the entire world.” The words were low and dangerous.

I swallowed. He was right, but I didn’t want to face it. “I’m okay, though. I am. I promise it’s?—”

He turned to look at me, the storm crashing in his expression. “Say it again. I dare you. Watch what happens.”

“Fine,” I whispered, not sounding like I meant it at all.

Bear grabbed my shoulders and pressed forward into my personal space. I backed up instinctively until I felt the rough bark of a tree at my back.

“ Fine is not acceptable for you. Not anymore. Not ever. You can be happy. You can be sad. You can be pissed off or confused, angry or betrayed.” His cheeks flushed as he spoke, and his eyes implored me as they flicked between my own. “Zane, your music connects with people because you’re so fucking honest . Where is that honesty when you’re talking with the people in your real life?”

The shock of his emotional outburst kept me pinned, but with his body nearly pressed up against mine, I would never complain about it. My eyes strayed to his lips and lingered as I tried to process his question.

“Well… I…” The only thought in my head was about how his lips would taste and why my dream had been of Bear in a busy train station instead of Bear in my bed. Was that the kind of honesty he was looking for? I didn’t think so.

“Tell me,” Bear pleaded. “Tell me exactly what you’re feeling right now.”

My heart pounded as his much larger body leaned over me. I couldn’t tell him the truth—that I wanted to know what it felt like to be touched intimately and possibly devoured violently by my personal protection specialist.

“I’m feeling like I’ve never seen this part of you before,” I admitted in a quiet voice. Part of me was afraid if I spoke too loudly, I’d scare him off. He’d realize how close he was and back away. That was the last thing I wanted.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You deserve better than your asshole cousin. At least I can be honest about it. I’m angry. I’m fucking enraged . And I’m so damned confused as to how someone who’s supposed to love and care for you can treat that like… like… like it’s nothing.”

“You’re more upset about this than I am. I promise I’m?—”

Bear lurched forward and crushed his mouth against mine, stopping the dreaded word before it could pass my lips.

I must have made an embarrassing sound, had a humiliatingly shocked look on my face, but I didn’t care.

Because it seemed to me I’d angered my bodyguard into kissing the hell out of me.

And if I said I was fine with that… this time, I’d really mean it.