Disbelief held her stunned. “He’s totally lying. They’re all lying.” She needed to write down the conversation she’d heard between the two men before she forgot it. There was something about it that made her skin crawl.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” She stood, feeling more steady on her feet than she had since the shooting. Finally. Maybe she’d needed that extra sleep, but she’d bite her tongue off before admitting it in front of these two.

Gavin handed her a bagel slathered with strawberry cream cheese, and she took a bite.

“Thank you,” she said around the food.

“Welcome.”

She swallowed. “Did Dr. Kilgore treat Dustin too?”

“No, why?”

“Just wondering. What was Dustin’s doctor’s name?”

“Melissa McCandless. She’s a psychiatrist, not a doc who treats wounds like you had.”

“Right. Of course. That was a stupid question.” She stood and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Caden asked.

“To change clothes.” She left them sitting in the kitchen and marched—okay, more like walked carefully—to Caden’s guest room. After her lovely, refreshing shower, she’d dressed in a clean pair of yoga pants and one of Caden’s T-shirts. Now, she chose a loose-fitting pair of navy-blue pants with an elastic waist and a white-and-navy-striped T-shirt.

After her stay at the hospital in Kabul, her things had been delivered to her father. Caden had picked them up the day of her release and brought her—and her luggage—to his house.

While she was grateful for his care and devotion, she missed her small one-bedroom apartment. Somewhat. Her father had nearly stroked out when she moved into the building located in one of the sketchiest neighborhoods in the city. She could tell he’d actually come close to losing that vise grip he held on his legendary control when he showed up on her doorstep demanding she move home. She’d simply shut the door in his face.

The memory made her smile.

Then she frowned as guilt pierced her. She shouldn’t press his buttons so gleefully, but . . . she did. Getting a rise out of him had become second nature to her in high school.

She pressed her fingers to her eyes. She’d thought she was past that stage in her life, that she’d moved on and put all that rebellion behind her.

I have. I don’t live there because it bugs him. That’s just an added bonus.

She had several reasons for choosing to live in that cramped, crime-infested building. The fact was, she liked her apartment and knew he’d never understand her reasons for wanting to live there. So, she didn’t bother to explain them.