He opened his mouth and closed it. He wanted to say something; it was evident on his face. The German swallowed hard and an even look crossed his features, making me incredibly aware of everything: of the sticky summer night, the darkened sky missing its stars, the way his skin let off the barest hint of something sweet smelling. His fingers tightened over me, his thumbs digging into that groove where my shoulder met my collarbone.

I’d seen his face hundreds of times, and it seemed to never be enough. After I had gotten over my infatuation with him, I’d envisioned myself with someone who worked for himself: a go-getter maybe, good with his hands, quiet, honest and nice. Possibly a mechanic. I had wanted someone who would come home, a little dirty, a little sweaty and capable of fixing things. I pictured a steady, reliable type of guy. I wasn’t sure where I’d gotten that fantasy from, but it had stuck with me. Adam, my ex, had been that way, mostly. He’d been a general contractor straight out of a romance novel—incredibly good-looking and sweet. I hadn’t thought he was real at first.

Now facing Kulti, so much taller than me, older than me, serious, sneaky, temperamental and having only mowed a lawn once in his life… I couldn’t find it in me to be disappointed that this was where my dumbass heart had taken me. I was an idiot, of course. What the hell was I doing having feelings for this jackass again? Unrequited love and I had known each other once, and I didn’t want to be up close and personal with it again. So what was I going to do? I had no clue, but I was worried my heart would get stomped to death.

Hope for the best? Blah.

I missed the glance he took at my mouth. Missed the way he fisted his hand as he pried it off my shoulder. I didn’t see the look on his face when he stared at mine for a brief second.

“Good,” he finally said, easing his hand off the car door and tearing me away from thinking about how I was going to get over this whole being-in-love-with-the-wrong-person-crap. “Call when you get home.”

I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face. Maybe he wasn’t in love with me, and maybe I wasn’t really the best friend he’d ever had, but he cared about me. Most of his actions made it loud and clear, even when he was being a bit of a gruff, emotionless dick. I could have done worse.

All right, that wasn’t true. I couldn’t have loved anyone else, definitely not anyone worse. I wouldn’t have done something so stupid.

Not that having feelings for him wasn’t completely fucking dumb, because it was, but… whatever. This was so hard.

“I’ll send you a text when I get home,” I agreed, opening the door and getting in. Once the car was on, I rolled down the window and watched him standing just a few feet away. “You know, even if you didn’t get Mike, Alejandro and Franz to come to the camp, and bought shoes for the kids, I would still think you were kind of great… most of the time, right?”

The lights outside of his house caught him looking up at the sky. “Go home.”

To my great pride, I only felt determination in his silence on the way back to my place.

What was the saying? When one door closes, another one opens. I might just have to do a little breaking and entering to get the right one for me.

Chapter Twenty-Three

In the month that followed Franz’s admission, life seemed to strap a jetpack to itself and take off in every direction, both the good and the bad.

Pipers practice went on as normal, or at least as relatively normal as possible. Going back after I found out what Cordero was planning was tough, really tough. I was a horrible liar with an itty bitty temper that desperately wanted to make an appearance. How could I face these people like nothing was wrong? How could I make it seem like I wasn’t dying a little inside while planning my escape?