Army goes after Chon, Dallas after that girl again, and Trace plants his hand on the naked back of a young woman over and over again as she laughs hysterically, losing every item of clothing.

  My heart races. The chaos whirls around us. Iron and I move clockwise in a circle. He could pounce any second.

  I call out. “Run!”

  He smirks. “I don’t chase.”

  “Then I’m afraid you’ll never catch me.”

  Spinning around, I race for the other side, but Army is suddenly there, in front of me. I halt, rearing back, but he catches me by the neck, a wicked smile curling his lips.

  The paint from his hand is ice on my neck.

  He peels my jacket off my shoulders, and I let it drop down my arms, catching it in my hand.

  “You’re too old to see me naked,” I taunt him.

  He arches an eyebrow. “Assuming I haven’t already…”

  What?

  He runs, and I stand frozen for a second as naked people rush around me.

  What did he say?

  I shake my head and run for the safe spot.

  He didn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean he’s talking about that night. It simply means he saw me naked once. Maybe he saw me on the couch the morning after. I was on my stomach, and the blanket was mostly covering me.

  Mostly.

  Or there was that time in June when Trace and I were in the pool alone. Really late, and we were caught up in the moment. Maybe everyone wasn’t asleep.

  I land in the Jaeger garage, toss the jacket down, and check the vest for paint. Nothing is dripping through. Good. I know Liv said I could keep the outfit, but she put a lot of work into it. I’d feel bad ruining it.

  A woman passes in front of me, shirtless and with her bra strap hanging down her arm, and nearly every guy is without a shirt.

  The Jaegers plus Aracely stand out in the rain, ready, the music kicks on again, and some guy next to me holds up his arms.

  “Go!” he shouts.

  We all run. Trace tags me. I lose the hat. Dammit.

  Music stops and starts again, and I run, laughing as I leap over someone on the ground, and almost make it to the other side before Aracely almost catches me on the stomach.

  Three more rounds, and I lose both shoes and one sock as Dallas, Army, and Trace stalk me and I struggle to stretch this out as long as possible while everyone around me is damn near naked.

  Most quit once they’re down to their underwear, only about four of us left.

  Iron watches me the whole time.

  “Go!” they shout again.

  Music starts, we rush, more Jaegers than runners now, and it’s only a matter of time.

  I splash through the puddles in the road, rain streaming down my face. Army sees me, stops, and looks like he’s about to give chase. I stumble.

  Right into Trace’s arms.

  He laughs, squeezing my ass in both hands.

  I push, squirming out of his hold until he lets me go.

  “You don’t get to touch me there anymore!” I fire back at him.

  “Yeah, let’s keep pretending like you made that decision.”

  Asshole.

  He veers around me, holding my eyes. “I want that skirt, Krisjen.”

  I yank off my last sock, throwing it at him instead.

  He tosses his head back, laughing up into the night sky as he runs off. “Coward!”

  I shoot off for the safe zone; the music stops, and I pace in front of the opening of the garage, alone. The last three players are in the garage next to mine, and I’m guessing the nearly naked couple behind me making out behind the tool bench are done for the night.

  Iron watches me, and there’s no way in hell I’m taking off any more clothes.

  So why don’t I just quit?

  The music blasts loud over the rain; I run, and Trace swoops toward me. I laugh so hard I almost choke, but I dive, rolling underneath him and away.

  I don’t have time to see where he went before I’m locked between two legs towering over me.

  Dallas stares down, holding his fist out. He squeezes, and I see red paint start to drip. I close my eyes just in time, feeling warm drops—one after another—land over the side of my mouth.

  I open my eyes and glare up at him through the rain. “You should be nice to people who handle your food,” I growl.

  I climb to my feet, starting to run, but all of a sudden, everyone is here.

  Aracely hits my legs.

  I scream.

  Army splashes my back.

  I suck in a breath.

  Trace pinches my nose.

  I rage. “What the fuck, y’all?”

  I whip around.

  And find myself in Iron’s arms, his painted hands gripping my waist.

  That’s five. That’s more than the rest of my clothes.

  Five hits. Everything else I’m wearing. More than everything, actually, as I only have three items left. Skirt, vest, and underwear.

  The music plays, and Iron bites the corner of his mouth. I stare up at his lips.

  “You want all these people to see me naked?” I ask him.

  “You want just me to see you?”

  Maybe.

  If I like him, then I’ll want more, right? What will he be like when he gets out in three years?

  Where will I even be?

  I don’t want to wait for another man, thinking it will magically get better. I did that with Milo.

  And I don’t want to just have fun. I did that with Trace.

  I start to pull away. “You should find someone else tonight.”

  “Nah, we’re way past that,” he growls, yanking me back.

  “I can’t sleep with you.”

  His eyes soften, and he almost whispers, “Then just stay with me.”

  A knife cuts my heart.

  But I also know better. If he gets me in his bed, he knows what will happen.

  “What do you think you’re going to get if you get my clothes off?” I ask.

  “A pretty picture in my head to take with me.”

  “You have plenty of those.”

  A bell pierces the air, and I look over to see Trace ringing the brass dinner bell on Mariette’s patio. Someone dumps a bucket of shrimp and mollusks on the newspaper-lined table as people crowd around, grabbing beers out of an ice-filled bin.

  Iron takes my face. “I want to get in the car with you and drive to a different fucking view tonight. I want to drive fast enough that the sun never comes up.”

  My throat is so tight. “I…I can’t.”

  “Smile at me,” he says.

  I shake my head, and I don’t smile.

  If all he wants is to feel good, he can easily get that from anyone. I’m not going to feel sorry for him.

  “Why me?” I ask him.

  “Because you’re beautiful,” he tells me. “And cute. And I want you to fuck me so I can stockpile all these memories for when I’m older. So I can think back to when I was young and had a pretty girl in my arms before she saw me get old and ragged and realized she could do better.”

  His jaw flexes, but I stay rooted. Rain courses down my legs, my feet sinking into the mud.

  “I want you naked in the back seat,” he tells me. “I want to hold you and kiss the rain on your mouth and make the most out of the next few hours.”

  He wants to forget. He wants to not think. He just wants to feel.

  He doesn’t want me.

  “Maybe another time,” I say.

  He narrows his eyes, but then Trace comes up and grabs him. “Iron, come on. Let’s eat. Last meal for—”

  Iron pushes him away.

  Trace stumbles, bracing himself as Iron charges him.

  But I jet in front of him, pushing him away from Trace before he can get to him. “Stop it!” I yell at Iron. “Why do you always have to do that?”

  “Because I’m fucking stupid!” He glares down at me. “Didn’t you know?”

  Trace disappears from my peripheral, but I don’t care if we have an audience. Iron doesn’t need to get laid. He needs a fucking kick in the head.

  I get in his face. “You knew you were going to be sent away if you screwed up again. Why didn’t you listen?”

  “Look around you, Krisjen!” He throws his arms out. “Nothing to do in this shithole but drink, fuck, and fight.” He backs away. “What the hell do you care? What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to stop blowing it off!” I shout, rain spilling over my lips. “Stop acting like you don’t care, because if you don’t, then there’s no reason for you to come back!”

  He falls silent, a pained look in his eyes.

  I continue. “Because if you’re not going to come home stronger, then you’re just going to be a burden. Because I don’t want you to leave, and I know it’s going to break your heart when you do tomorrow, and I want to fucking acknowledge it!”

  His eyes water, but he doesn’t blink. Every inch of him looks like a wall.

  I lower my voice just a little, so no one hears but him. “It’s not a shithole,” I tell him. “And Sanoa Bay will be less without you. You should feel bad about leaving them less protected so you don’t do it again.”

  He drops his eyes to the ground.

  “And because I’ll miss you,” I say.

  Slowly, he raises his eyes to Mariette’s and then over to his house as if it’s the first time he’s realizing this is his home, and leaving is one thing, but leaving for prison is a waste. And for what? A stupid bar fight where he attacked a connected frat boy and then resisted arrest on top of it?

  He looks like he’s not really in his body as he takes a step back, and then another. He turns and walks to his house.

  I feel his brothers’ eyes on me as Iron disappears inside, and I can’t help the guilt that suddenly hits me.

  I wasn’t wrong. He needed someone to say it.

  But what’s done is done. I don’t want him to leave in the morning feeling worse. Or forgetting the good things he’s going to come back to, either.

  “Krisjen!” I hear Trace call out.

  But it’s time for me to go home. No idea if I’ll be back tomorrow. I probably just lost my job.

  I pat my pockets for my car key, but then I sigh when I remember that Iron still has it.

  I walk for the Jaeger garage, seeing Macon’s still there with the blonde. Her back is against the wall, her hands climbing his chest as he leans on his forearm and bows his head toward her.

  I squat down to pick up my clothes and shoes, watching him sway to the right and stepping out to stop himself.

  I rise back up. She whispers in his ear and then slips out from under his arm, running for the kitchen door and throwing him a smile.

  I stuff my socks in the boots and fold the jacket over my arm. Water drips from everything.

  Macon turns, locking eyes with me, and I feel something in my stomach flip.

  He grabs the bottle of Jim Beam from the edge of the car he’s working on, and I start to walk for the kitchen. I need to get my key.

  But I turn to Macon, speaking softly. “You should get rid of that girl.”

  “Don’t speak.”

  He doesn’t even look at me.

  I don’t know why I care. I’ve never seen him go to bed with anyone. Maybe he should.

  I climb the three steps to the door. “You’re wasted,” I blurt out, turning the handle. “You’re not going to make any decisions tonight that you’re proud of.”

  And I walk inside, slamming the door before he can spit anything back.

  I wish I could say that Macon’s declining mood is Iron’s fault, but I noticed it at the beginning of summer. He was drinking more, staying up late, and increasingly angry.

  And when Liv left for college in August, it got worse. With Iron leaving now, I don’t know what’s going to happen.

  Like I’m one to fix him or anyone else, right?

  I search the house, knocking on Iron’s bedroom door. I hear a girl in the bathroom and head back downstairs, the house quiet and dark.

  Entering the kitchen, I look out the other window leading to the pool deck. I spot Iron’s right leg hanging over a chaise lounge, the rest of his body sprawled out. His foot is bare, and a giant umbrella hovers over him.

  Setting down my clothes, I walk outside, coming up behind him. Rounding the chair, I see he has his hands locked on top of his head, rain dotting his body and dripping over his tattoos.

  He chews the corner of his mouth, but I see the tears in his red eyes that he doesn’t try to hide.

  I feel my own burn. I’m scared for him.

  God, I should’ve just fucking backed off. He only wanted one last night. I could’ve left. I didn’t have to yell at him.

  “You’re covered,” he says, his voice gentle.

  I see him staring at my clothes, and I look down at all the handprints I can see, still feeling the ones I can’t. “Yeah,” I say, laughing a little. “I think you sent out a group text.”

  They definitely had a plan with that attack. Maybe we’ll play again when he comes home.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” I tell him, gently this time.

  Tomorrow morning will come no matter what we say or do, but I want him to know we all love him. I just want him to take that with him.

  He sits up, swinging his other leg over the side of the pool chair. He shakes his head, and I see his shoulders shake with a silent sob.

  “It hurts in here.” He touches his chest over his heart. “And it’s fucking hurt for weeks, and I just want to smash my head into a wall, because it feels like I’m five years old again.” He breathes hard and shallow. “When I would cry at school because I missed my mom and just wanted to go home to her.”

  I used to do that, too. When your body is forced to be somewhere your heart isn’t, it’s a constant feeling of homesickness.

  “I hate that feeling,” he whispers. “I don’t want to go there.” And then he looks up at me. “Macon’s right. Why don’t I listen?”

  Yeah, Macon doesn’t know everything, either. And neither do I.

  It’s three and a half years. Not life. Iron will be back.

  I step up to him, threading my fingers through his hair, and feel his shoulders slowly relax. His forehead falls against my stomach.

  I don’t want my key anymore.

  “I didn’t want sex,” he says, his breath warm on my skin. “I wanted a woman who gives a shit about me to look at me tonight.”

  He inhales and exhales several times, and I know he’s trying not to lose control of his emotions.

  I stroke his scalp, dragging my nails gently as his breath grows hot. “You mean a friend?” I ask.

  He keeps his eyes downcast.

  “Are we friends?” I whisper.

  Tilting his head up, he looks at me. “Friends.”

  My face relaxes, and I soften my strokes in his hair, watching his eyelids start to close with how good it feels.

  I like this Iron. He’s better when he’s serious.

  And I want to be the one who looks at him tonight, because tomorrow night no one will.

  “Eleven,” I murmur.

  He cocks his head, peering up at me.

  “I’m not so fast after all,” I tell him, looking down at my clothes. “I got handed eleven times.”

  He holds my gaze.

  “Shoes.” I hold up two fingers. “Socks, hat, coat…” I count off everything I’ve lost so far, moving to the other hand. “That’s six,” I say.

  He watches me, and for a moment, he stops breathing when I slip a button out of the loop on the vest.

  He waits.

  I undo the buttons one by one, seeing a lump move up and down his throat and fire light in his eyes.

  Peeling off the vest, I drop it to the ground, his gaze falling to my naked top half. The cool rain makes the flesh of my nipples harden into points, and my insides warm in anticipation.

  “That’s seven,” he says so quietly.

  Two more.

  Reaching behind me, I unzip the skirt, holding his gaze as I push it down my hips. It falls to the wet deck. “Eight.”

  He can remove the last piece himself.

  But he doesn’t.

  He whips me around, my breath lodging in my throat as he pulls me down into his lap.

  I drop my head back against his shoulder as he slips a hand inside the front of my panties, teasing my entrance with two fingers.

  “Krisjen,” he pants into my neck. “Good friends?”

  I turn my head, searching for his mouth as I bring his palm to my breast. I flick my tongue over his lips. “Really good friends.”

  I spread my thighs wide, putting my hand over his and pushing his fingers inside of me.

  He slides in deep, jerking me back into him and growling.

  I kiss his cheek and the corner of his mouth, brushing my lips over his skin. “Don’t stay away,” I tell him, rolling my hips into his fingers, sliding him in and out of me.

  He groans, his groin hard and swollen underneath me.

  He kneads my breast, bringing the fingers of his other hand out and swirling my wetness over my clit again and again. “I want you, Conroy.” He layers his lips with mine, rain spilling down our bodies. “Can I have you?”

  His pushes his fingers back inside of me, and I gasp.

  I moan, turning my head into his mouth and surrendering. I open my mouth, and he captures my tongue, both of us melting as our mouths come back for more and more.

  I thrust into his hand, but I need him deeper.

  Pulling away, I stand up and push my panties down my legs. I peer over my shoulder, through the trees, still seeing the far-off crowd at Mariette’s partying.

  I hear a wrapper tear, and I turn around, pushing him back on the chair as I climb on top of him.

  His eyes look up at me with fire, both of us hot and frantic. God, I’m so wet. I can feel it.