His eyes scanned the yard and stal ed on me.

Okay, cool. No worries. Al was wel . I could deal with Luke. Luke was good. Luke was great.

I smiled at Luke.

The door opened again and Mace walked out.

Fuck! My brain shouted and my smile vanished.

My eyes did a sweep of al that was Mace.

I wanted to find fault in him, I real y did. I wanted him to be growing a paunch. I wanted him to be developing a bald spot. I wanted him to look like he was wasting away, pining for me. Something, anything but what he was. Tal at six foot four, flat, tight abs, square jaw and last but not least, arresting green eyes and great skin that showed the Hawaiian ancestry that he got from his Mom’s side.

He didn’t scan the yard. His eyes came direct to me like he sensed me there.

When his eyes caught my eyes I worked hard to keep my face blank.

Mace didn’t appear to have to work hard at al . His expression didn’t change. Not in the slightest.

I felt it like I always felt it when I remembered him, when I remembered us or when, on the odd occasion, I’d see him

– that sharp kick in the gut and the sharper desire to flee.

I held my ground. I was ashamed to admit, holding my ground took a lot, even after a year.

Luke hesitated.

Mace approached.

Bad luck. I would have preferred Luke to approach.

Effing hel but my luck sucked.

Juno went wild. Final y happy with our ungodly hour adventure, Juno was straining at the leash, wanting more than anything, even hard food covered in melted bacon grease, to get at Mace. Juno loved Mace. She took Mace’s defection almost harder than me. She’d pouted and waited at the door for him for months after he broke it off. She hadn’t seen him in ages.

I held on tight to the lead but struggled to keep my big dog stil .

“Juno, sit,” Mace commanded, five feet away.

Juno sat, as always, obeying Mace without hesitation but she wasn’t happy about it. Her tail swept the dirt, her tongue lol ed, her life brightened.

Mace got close and Juno butted his hand with her wet nose, neck stretched to the max but keeping her doggie-heiny to the ground.

I watched as Mace’s long fingers slid through the fur on top of Juno’s head and the gut kick feeling came back.

Jealous of my own damn dog.

How far had a sunk?

I straightened my spine and tipped my head back to look at him.

“Go home, Stel a,” Mace said when my eyes caught his.

Not “hey” not “how are you?” not “you look good” not “I made the worst mistake in my life breaking up with you.

Please forgive me and marry me and live with me until we both die at the same exact time holding hands when we’re one hundred and seven.”

To hide my disappointment at his non-greeting, my eyes went to the door of the house then they scanned the area.

Luke had moved to talk to Wil ie Moses, another friend of mine and a police sergeant for the Denver Police Department. The ambulance was stil there but I saw no paramedics.

Something was not right.

I looked back at Mace.

“Is Linnie okay?” I asked.

“Go home.”

Yep, something was not right.

“Is Linnie okay?” I repeated.

“Stel a, nothin’ you can do here. Go home.” Oh hel . Something was definitely not right.

“Buzz cal ed me. Said Linnie overdosed. Did she overdose? Is Buzz in there?” I asked.

“I’l talk to Buzz. He’l cal you in the morning,” Mace responded unhelpful y.

I felt fear begin to tear at my insides and I started to move around him, pul ing Juno with me.

“I need to see Buzz,” I said.

His fingers wrapped around my upper arm in a way that couldn’t be ignored. I stopped on a lurch, Juno stopped with me and I stared at his hand for two beats then up at him.

“Take your hand off me Mace,” I said, my voice soft and low, my meaning clear.

He gave up the right to touch me a year ago. He gave up the right to tel me to go home. He even gave up the right to pet my damn dog (maybe that last was pushing it but I felt like pushing it at that moment).

He didn’t move his hand, in fact his fingers tightened. It didn’t hurt but it certainly made his meaning clear too.

“Either you go to the van or I carry you there. Your choice, Stel a.”

He meant it.

This pissed me off.

I didn’t get pissed off very often. I didn’t have the time.

My life was music and my life was the band. When we weren’t playing, we were loading or unloading our gear.

When we weren’t loading or unloading, we were rehearsing. When we weren’t rehearsing, I was finding us gigs. When I wasn’t finding us gigs, I was practicing guitar.

When I wasn’t practicing guitar, I was getting my bandmates out of trouble. When I wasn’t getting my bandmates out of trouble, I was hanging out with Juno and cooking fabulous, gourmet meals-for-one because Juno was a big dog with not a lot of energy thus she didn’t do much so I had to find some way to amuse myself and Juno liked the scraps. When I wasn’t hanging out with Juno and cooking, I was shooting the shit with my girlfriends on the phone or meeting them somewhere.

The rest of the time, of which there wasn’t much, I was sleeping.

As you could see, I didn’t have time to be pissed off.

But real y, who the hel did he think he was? He couldn’t break my heart one day and then get in the way of me and a member of my band the next.

Nunh-unh.

No way.

No one got in the way of me and my band.

I leaned into him.

“Tel me what’s going on,” I demanded on a quiet hiss.

“Buzz’l cal in the morning.” He kept attempting to blow me off.

“What the f**k is going on?” I demanded on a not-at-al quiet shout.

I felt rather than saw the eyes that turned to us.

“Stel a, lower your voice,” Mace demanded.

That pissed me off more.

“I’m goin’ in there,” I told him.

“You aren’t goin’ in there,” he told me and his hand stayed where it was.

Effing hel .

I changed tactics. “Why are you doing this?” This caught him off-guard, I saw it. His usual y blank-but-broody look disappeared and I saw his eyes flash in the dim il umination of Lindsey’s porch light.

“I’m protecting you,” he answered, his voice low, the words seemed torn from him as if he didn’t want to say them.

There was the gut kick feeling again and more fear started tearing through my insides.