He chuckles. “Listen, man, if you’re her boyfriend and you just found out about this, I understand it can be a shock, but the girls are safe here. You can talk to her when her shift is over.”

  My anger flares to life, my vision darkening. “She’s not doing a shift,” I growl. I yank out my wallet again and count out ten one-hundred-dollar bills. “This is yours if you go back to that little room and tell her that she can go home.”

  He scoffs, his slicked hair reflecting the colored lights from the stage. “She’s not going to just leave. She needs the money.”

  I close my eyes and breathe, ignoring the way the place smells.

  Fuck. Get it together, man.

  When my anger has dissipated a little, I pin him with a look and flash him my wallet. “Fine. There’s another ten in it for you if you make sure she’s not on stage and send her to a private room.”

  “Private rooms are fifteen hundred.”

  “Ten grand. You and Savannah can split it. I’m sure she’ll agree to that. Tell her she’s got a private client and then disappear. Understood?”

  He swallows thickly, surveying me. “You’re not gonna hurt her, right?”

  I reel back. “What? No. I just want to talk to her.”

  “You’re going to pay ten grand to talk to her?”

  “Yeah.” I’d pay a hell of a lot more than that, but I know this ass is gonna want to keep at least half of it for himself, and I’m not feeling that generous. This way, at least Savannah will have enough to pay her rent and then some. More than anything, I want her to come home with me tonight and never leave again, but knowing my girl, this isn’t gonna be that easy.

  “Damn, you must really love her.”

  I run a hand through my hair. “You have no idea.”

  FORTY-NINE

  SAVANNAH

  “Savannah,” Max barks from the back of the dressing room.

  “I’m about to go on,” I tell him as he stalks toward me.

  “Carrie, you’re up. Sav, you’re coming with me.”

  The blond next to me scurries to the door leading to the stage. The rest of the girls watch me, brows lifted in curiosity.

  “Is something wrong?” I stand and adjust my robe.

  Rather than focus on my face, his attention drops to my chest. Gross. “Yeah, you’re not going on tonight.”

  “But—” I scan the room, then lean in closer and lower my voice. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Special request came in for you. Got a customer who wants some private time.”

  I don’t even have to consider it before I shake my head. “No.”

  He shrugs. “I’ve been paid to keep you off that stage. And we’ll both get paid more if you go in and give this guy his private show.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Who?”

  He digs his hands into his pockets and rolls back on his heels. “We’ll call him Mr. Ten Grand.”

  “Ten Grand?” I shout. My heart rate shoots up. And I’d get what, five of that? But what does a man willing to pay ten grand expect?

  I shake my head again. I can’t, no matter how tempting. It’s bad enough dancing on a stage. In a private room, I’d have to give a lap dance at a minimum. And if this man is willing to pay ten grand, I can’t imagine he’ll be satisfied with the minimum. “Sorry, I can’t.”

  Eyes narrowed, he straightens. “I’ll go forty-sixty with you.”

  Heart rate picking up, I shake my head.

  “Thirty-seventy. It’s my best offer. You’ll walk out of here with seven thousand dollars under the table. You understand what you could do with that money? All the guy wants to do is talk.”

  My stomach bottoms out. “What?”

  He sways on his toes again. “Yup. Just wants to talk. And then you and I will be ten thousand dollars richer.”

  All I have to do is talk? Seriously? This place has cameras in the private rooms, and they’re well-monitored. So just talking? I could do that. And that amount of money would ensure I don’t ever have to come into a place like this again. So long as I keep my head on straight and don’t get wooed by any more older men. And so long as I keep my distance from my evil mother.

  I lean in close. “No, I’ll be seven thousand dollars richer. You’ll only be three.”

  Eyes lighting up, he coughs out a laugh. “You sure you want to quit after tonight? You’ve got the balls to make it here.”

  Smiling, I pat his shoulder and skirt around him. “And after my little talk, I’ll never have to set foot in here again.”

  As Steele, one of the club’s bouncers, leads me toward the back where the private rooms are located, I breathe through my nose, willing my nerves to settle. Men have the weirdest fetishes. What the hell kind of conversation is worth ten grand?

  “Don’t go far,” I tell Steele.

  When he nods, I turn toward the door, reminding myself that I’m safe. That he and the other guys will ensure it. But then he pushes the door open for me, and I come face to face with Camden, and I realize no one can protect me from this.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I mutter.

  He looks disgustingly good in a pair of dark jeans and a black T-shirt, his muscles and the tattoos on his arms on full display. At the sound of my voice, he snaps up straight and zeroes in on me.

  “Savannah,” he breathes, his entire being shuddering.

  The sound of his voice, the not so quiet desperation and relief stitched into every syllable, causes my heart to flip. Without my permission, my body angles his way. I nearly stumble forward, the baser parts of me wanting the comfort that felt so familiar and real only a week ago.

  He takes a step in my direction.

  “Don’t.” I hold up a hand, that single word coming out like a sob.

  He flinches, his eyes flashing in the dim lights. “I’m not going to hurt you, baby girl.”

  Pain lances my chest, making it hard to breathe. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to walk in here and buy me and then call me baby girl.”

  Panic and horror flit across his face. “What? Buy you? No. I just want to talk.”

  Anger and devastation flood me, goading me to tug at the silky tie holding my black robe closed and pull the fabric to the side, exposing what’s underneath.

  Camden hisses in a breath, and with a muttered fuck, he looks away.

  Bile rises in my throat. He can’t even look at me now that he knows where I came from.

  I wrap the robe around myself, holding it to my chest, and swallow back a sob.

  This is pure torture. Seeing him here. But it hurts so much more knowing he doesn’t want to see me.

  “Wow, you really did just want to talk,” I huff, spinning toward the door. “Keep your money.”

  “Savannah. Please.”

  I peek back over my shoulder, a mess of pain and confusion and maybe even a little hope.

  He doesn’t look up. His focus is fixed on his feet. Even as he begs me to stay, he can’t look at me.

  “The last thing I’d ask you to do is fucking strip for me,” he growls at the ground.

  That pain in my chest spreads, and tears prick my eyes. Could this man really be this disgusted by me? “Is it because I’m a stripper now, or is it because you fucked my mom? Which one disgusts you more?” I say through tears.

  Camden snaps his head up, his blue eyes blazing. “You have it all fucking wrong.”

  “Oh yeah? You can’t even look at me.” I swipe the tears from my face, hating how weak I am.

  “Savannah, no.” He stalks toward me.

  I back up until I bump into the door. Even then, he doesn’t touch me. He only searches my face, shaking his head.

  I hold my breath, refusing to inhale his familiar scent, and I try like hell not to look into the eyes I once believed were my forever. It’s nearly impossible, though. I want to sink into those depths. I want to throw myself into his arms and never let go.

  “That’s not what’s happening,” he grits out. “But I’m not taking advantage of you right now. Just come home with me, baby girl.”

  My heart cracks in two. “Home? I have no fucking home. And I never have. Not with my mom or the joke of a father who never wanted me. Then you told me to leave. You sent a fucking text message. Not sure my mom was right when she told me I would have been better off if you’d been my father. Doesn’t matter, though. You’re not, so if you don’t want to touch me, then get out so someone else can take their turn putting their hands on⁠—”

  He cups a hand over my mouth, his irises so dark they blend in with his pupils in the terrible lighting, looking like black holes of anger.

  “Fuck. That,” he forces out through gritted teeth. “No one is putting a finger on you unless they want it broken. And we both know I’m nothing like either of your parents. Maybe I woulda been a better father than that asshole, but baby girl, I’m not. So no, I’m not disgusted that you’re Tara’s daughter. She ruined enough of my life already. I won’t let her ruin this too. You are mine, Savannah. Mine. And you do have a home.” His voice cracks on the last word. “With me. Please, baby girl, just come home with me.”

  “Stop calling me that.” Tears stream down my face. I want to believe him. So badly. But when I needed him the most, he turned his back on me. He disappeared. “How did you even know I was here?”

  “Everyone’s worried about you. Everyone loves⁠—”

  This time I’m the one who holds up a hand to stop him from speaking. I can’t hear him tell me he loves me. That anyone does.

  And he didn’t answer my question. How did he…

  It hits me then, and my heart sinks. Josie. I didn’t tell her what I was doing, but during our conversation tonight, I think she figured it out. “Wow, she really stabbed me in the back, huh? Were you there when she called me?”

  “Savannah, please,” he rasps, his eyes filling with tears. “Please let me explain. Please give me a chance to make this right.”

  I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. Not trusting my stupid brain or my traitorous heart. Both want to give in. Both long for him. But I feel so betrayed. By him. By Josie. By my parents. By every single person who was supposed to be on my side.

  “Please go,” I whisper, dragging my gaze to the floor.

  He drops his forehead to mine, but I close my eyes to shut him out.

  “I will get you back, baby girl.” He ducks, forcing me to look at him, his blue eyes haunted and desperate. “I will make this up to you. We belong together. I won’t lose you.”

  Lose me. That thought gives me the strength to steel my resolve. He only dated me because of a bet. He doesn’t love me. No one does.

  So I swipe the tears from my face and push away from him. “Oh yeah? Maybe we should bet on it.”

  FIFTY

  CAMDEN

  Maybe we should bet on it.

  Savannah’s words play on repeat in my head long after she’s left the room.

  Fuck. I squeeze my fists and breathe through the pain and rage eating me alive. I want to punch a hole through the wall. I want to bang my head against it. Because that’s what I deserve. I need the fucking sense knocked into me. I deserve to hurt like she is.

  She was so frail. So sad.

  I’ve never seen Savannah look anywhere near this tortured. My heart aches for her. My soul. My body feels like I’m moving through sludge. Like I’m in a haze. This can’t be real. I couldn’t have destroyed her so thoroughly.

  Yes, I could. I’ve always been selfish, so of course I forced her friend to tell me where she is. Of course I damaged the trust Savannah had in Josie. I’m a fucking monster.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I yank it out quickly. There’s no way it’s Savannah, but I can’t help but check just in case.

  Cora: Savannah just came out of the dressing room and walked out the front door. What happened?

  I exhale a long breath. Thank fuck she’s out of here, at least.

  Me: It didn’t go well. You should go home.

  Cora: I’m not leaving without you.

  Me: I just need to go hit some hockey pucks or something. Maybe hit the gym.

  Cora: It’s almost midnight.

  Me: Please, Cor. I appreciate you, but I need to breathe. Just take the car and head home.

  Cora: I love you. You’re going to get through this.

  I’m not so sure, but I don’t want her to worry.

  Me: I know. Love you too.

  A knock sounds on the door, startling me. “Time’s up.”

  Wow. Apparently ten K only gets a guy twenty minutes.

  I straighten my shoulders and walk out of the room. As I pass the oversized bouncer who’s meant to intimidate me, I stop and pat him on the chest. “Let your boss know that if I find out he allows Savannah back here again, the place will be shut down within a week.”

  With that, I stalk out of the bar and order a car. My next text is to Daniel.

  Me: Any idea how the hell Savannah would know about the bet?

  My phone rings immediately.

  “Hello,” I grumble.

  Daniel is gonna have a million questions. I’ve been avoiding him since my arrest. Don’t really want to talk to anyone about any of it, but I need to figure out what Savannah thinks she knows.

  “What the fuck? I’ve been calling you for days, and you text me that shit at midnight?” Before I can answer his questions, he yammers on. “If you got arrested again, so help me god⁠—”

  “I didn’t get arrested. I’m going to the arena.”

  He’s quiet for a second. “What? Why?”

  “Because I’m spiraling,” I admit, kicking at the asphalt. “Because I lost Savannah and I deserve it. Because for the last couple of months, everything’s been good, and now it’s all gone to shit. And I almost wish I never knew what good felt like because before Savannah, at least I was naïve enough to believe I was happy. Now I can’t breathe, and my skin feels too tight. Because I love her and I broke her and I hate myself for it.”

  The words bleed out of me, pulsing with a vile need to force this negative energy out of my body.

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “What?” I scan the road, brow furrowed.

  “Go to the arena. I’ll meet you there,” he says. “And Cam, it’s going to be all right.”

  The rink is illuminated when I walk down the tunnel. Guess Daniel is already here. During the ride over, I replayed my conversation with Savannah over and over. Dissected her expressions, her body language.

  Every single cell in my body tells me I fucked up. By not looking at her—because I was trying to be respectful—I made her believe I was disgusted by her. That I could ever feel anything but a bone-deep need for her is absurd. She’s the most attractive woman I’ve ever met. Yes, she’s gorgeous on the outside, but her heart is where her true beauty resides. And her personality. With her, my heart feels like it’s beating outside my chest. Because it belongs to her. No one has ever come close to making me feel so important.

  So if she hurts, I hurt.

  The familiar sound of skates scraping over ice hits me as I push into the arena.

  A laugh echoes around the huge empty space, and a puck goes flying into an open net.

  “You’re getting slow in your old age,” Daniel taunts.

  I step in farther and discover Brooks, who is shaking his head as he skates toward the net. What the fuck is he doing here?

  “I told you I wasn’t ready.” He crouches and picks up the puck, then spins around. “And I’m not playing goalie without gear, asshole.”

  “You’re grumpy tonight.” Across the ice, Aiden does a fucking pirouette.

  “It’s after midnight,” our former goalie mumbles.

  “I’m here.”

  I spin around at the sound of the voice.

  War steps through the door I just entered, wearing a pair of sweats and a long-sleeve black shirt. It’s the same outfit he was in when I left his place hours ago, though he’s added a backward Bolts hat.

  He nods at me when he spots me. “Hey, how’d it go?”

  I pull on my neck, fighting the stinging behind my eyes. “Obviously not great since you’re all here at fucking midnight.”

  He slaps my shoulder and guides me toward the ice. “We’ll figure it out.”

  It’s about as cold in here as it was outside, but once I’m moving, my blood heats. There’s nowhere in the world that I’m more comfortable than in this rink. It’s home in a way no other place ever has been.

  Other than in my bed with Savannah in my arms. Or in my kitchen with her. Or my couch. Basically with Savannah in my arms, I always feel at home.

  Right now, she’s right: neither of us has a home.

  “We playing a game or just hitting?” Brooks asks as we gather at center ice.

  “We can’t talk while playing. Let’s do slapshots at the net,” Daniel declares.

  It’s a relief, letting him make the decision. I’ve got no plan and no energy to put one in place. Though just being here with my closest friends has taken the edge off the stabbing pain in my chest.

  Immediately I feel bad about that. Because I took away Savannah’s only safe space tonight when I revealed that I’d talked to Josie. I don’t deserve friends if she doesn’t feel like she has anyone.

  “I…” I scan my friends faces, words failing me.

  War slaps my shoulder. “Shoot first, then talk. We got time.”

  I nod, grateful that these guys know me.

  For a good twenty minutes, we hit puck after puck. Aiden, hotshot that he is, plays it like a game of pool. We tell him which part of the net to hit, and he aces it every time. He learned that from Noah. Beauty was one of the best snipers to ever play. We were all fortunate when he took over as GM after he retired, not only because he always does right by his players, but because he’d spend hours out here, teaching us how he did it.