I shake my head. “No, babe, you’re up late.”

She grips her forehead. “Oh crap. I’m going to be a puddle of uselessness tomorrow.” She snaps her notebook shut and sets her things on the coffee table only to move over to her bed, but I beat her to it and snag her hand before she can lie down.

“What are you doing?” she asks, looking at our connected hands.

Gaining enough courage, I say, “You’re not sleeping there tonight, not when you need some good sleep. It’s probably half the reason why you’re so tired every morning. Come on.” I nod toward my bedroom but she doesn’t move. Grumbling an obscenity under my breath, I say, “Why aren’t you moving?”

“Because, that is your bed, this is my bed. I’ve already imposed on you by living with you. I’m not about to take over your bed as well.”

I glance over at Clyde, pull on the back of my neck, and do the one thing I wanted to do a few nights ago when I first gained the courage to do it. I lift the cot and drive my foot through it, multiple times, until every last spring is broken off. Then I toss it to the ground and turn back to her.

Mouth agape, she stares down at Clyde.

I don’t bother to listen to the barrage of comments about what I just did. I take her hand again and move her through the living room, down the hall, and to my bedroom where I sit her on her side of the bed.

Still in shock, she blinks a few times at me and then says, “You murdered Clyde.”

Unapologetically, I say, “It needed to be done. I was sick of hearing the duct tape rip from across the apartment. I was annoyed every time I saw you lying awkwardly in the morning. And I couldn’t take seeing you in pain in the morning because you insisted on sleeping on that thing when I have a perfectly fine bed you can sleep in.”

“But—”

I silence her with my fingers. “If I didn’t want you here, I’d tell you. But I want you here, I want you comfortable, so let me do this for you . . .” My throat grows tight. “After everything you’ve done for me.”

“Maddox, you don’t ever have to repay me. We were there for each other.”

“I know, but I feel like it’s my turn to take you in. I have the ability to do it. Let me care for you.”

Her teeth roll over her bottom lip as she looks away. Her hand smooths over the comforter and she sighs heavily. “I did have the best night’s sleep ever when I slept here. It’s like the mattress was built to make you think you were floating on a cloud.”

“Money can buy nice things.”

She chuckles. “Apparently.” Looking back at me, she tilts her head to the side and says, “Do you ever wonder what would have happened had we not become friends?”

I shake my head. “Never. Don’t even want to acknowledge it as a possibility.”

“Not even once?”

“Not even once,” I say with finality. I tip her chin up, loving the way her eyes sparkle when she looks at me. “Now get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

I move around to my side of the bed, get under the covers, and face her. I reach out my hand, and she smiles softly at me, taking my hand in hers.

“How much did these pillows cost you?”

“More than your fucking cot.”

She laughs out loud. “I can imagine.”

Even though I told her to get some sleep, I can’t help but ask, “What were you working on? You seemed intent on finishing it.”

“Oh.” A stunning smile crosses her face. “Just an idea I had to spice up the adoption process for the animals. I wanted to test some pictures out in my notebook, see if it could work. There are a few animals that have been at the shelter for far too long and need a good home, so I’m going to utilize some quality pictures, our Instagram account, and some flavorful hashtags to gather some attention. Maybe tag Ellen DeGeneres. You know how she loves animals, and star power will really help us.”

“You need star power?”

“Every non-profit begs for star power.” She chuckles. “It makes such a huge impact on your ability to reach the people.”

“Babe, you’re holding the hand of someone who has star power.”

“What?” She shakes her head. “No way. Not happening. I am not asking you to help with the adoptions.”

“Why the hell not?”

She shakes her head some more. “No, Maddox.” Her voice is firm, and it literally pisses me off.

“Do I not have the right image for what you’re looking for?”

“No.” Her brow crinkles. “I’m just not going to ask another thing from you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m telling you I want to help.”

“Because you feel like you need to.” She shakes her head one more time. “Not happening, Maddox. Okay? I’m serious. You are not helping with the shelter. Let me do this on my own.”

I don’t like it.

Not one fucking bit.

She has no clue. I’ve said the words to her, told her I wouldn’t be where I was without her. But she still has no clue. Maybe because I hadn’t given it as much thought either until she arrived on my doorstep. When every memory of my successes includes her, every recollection of getting through the beatings, the grueling training hours, the waiting to hear if I was going to be recruited includes her. How can I not want to give back? She’s never asked anything of me—I had to beg her to come stay with me. Her confidence in me, her strength she instilled when I was feeling my lowest, her love . . . fuck, her love got me through so much.

She’s my person.

Why wouldn’t I want to lend my hand in any way I could? It’s why I told her to move in with me, because I knew she wanted to get out of Woodland, and this was her chance. This was my chance to return the favor. And I still want to return it. Even if she won’t let me.

Too bad for her, I have the week off, and it looks like I’m going to have to do some work to do of my own . . .

I can’t drop the smile that’s been eating up my face ever since I left my meeting with a few of the boys. Linc and Jason met up with me for lunch today, and I asked them if they’d help me with a project.

Of course, Linc immediately asked if it had to do with Kinsley and when I said yes, Jason clapped his hands like a moron and made kissy noises. Jason then proceeded to grill me about Kinsley, asking me all about her: if I’d made a move, if I want to make a move, if I love her, if I want to marry her, if I want to have babies with her, if I see myself at the age of seventy with her at my side, if I want to die The Notebook style, hand in hand on the bed with her . . .

And I fucking said yes to every single question, in my head of course, because I’m not a damn fool. I did tell him that I was feeling more for her than just friends, which then made Linc say I told you so, so many damn times that I actually chucked a piece of bread at him. They never make it easy.

After the teasing subsided, I told them about the shelter, what it represents, and how Kinsley is bound and determined to find homes for these animals. They agreed. We need to visit the shelter, and we need to raise some awareness through our Instagram accounts. I plan on surprising Kinsley in the process.

Fuck, I’m excited. I wish we could go immediately, but the boys have meetings and appointments that are holding us up, so I’ll just have to wait a little bit, which is fine. Kinsley won’t expect it.

I insert my keys into the lock of the door, open it up, and stop mid stride into my apartment.

Music is pumping, the kind of music you hear in a Banana Republic dressing room, there are white cloths all over my furniture, and Kinsley is wide-leg squatting with a camera posed at her eye, while talking to . . .

What

The

Actual

Fuck?

Sitting on the couch is a bloodhound, wearing one of my two-thousand-dollar suits, a tie, and a top hat—the top hat is not mine.

“That’s it, Herman, give me those sultry eyes. Just like that. Make love to the camera. Think about all the bones and treats in your future. Just like that, oh yeah, look at those sad, dark eyes. You’re eating up this camera.”

I slam the door, startling both of them. Kinsley jumps about five feet in the air while Herman howls a blood-curdling sound so loud that I feel it reverberate off my body.

“Maddox, you startled us.” Kinsley rushes to Herman—apparently—and soothes him with a pat to his head. “It’s okay, he’s a friend.”

“Am I?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. “I thought I said no animals in the apartment.”

“Animals?” Kinsley looks around the living room as if she’s truly confused. “All I see in this room is a pure gentleman, no animals.”

Christ.

“Kinsley.”

“Hmm?” She smiles wide. “No animals,” she says a little softly.

I point my finger at Herman. “That’s a dog.”

“What?” She acts as if I’m crazy. “Are you losing it? Maddox, I think you need to lie down.” She slowly walks toward me and takes me by the arm, trying to guide me to my bedroom. That’s when I see a bag of dog food and a dog bed tucked to the side.