“Hi, you must be Liam,” she said. “I’m Mikayla, and this is Gray.”

“Um, hello.” I remembered Kennedy mentioning her friend Gray, but I hadn’t expected to meet him like this.

“Gray?” Kennedy appeared behind me, grinning widely. She walked up to the man and kissed his cheek. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Neither can I.” He gave a weak laugh. “Mind if we come in?”

“Of course.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me inside, making room for the couple to enter. “Liam, this is Gray, a very good friend of mine, and his girlfriend, Mikayla.”

“Wait.” A bolt of recognition struck as I stared at the other man. “That’s where I remember you from. You were in a movie together.” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t put that together sooner.

They exchanged a look. “More than one,” Kennedy said wryly. “We’ve collaborated a lot over the years.”

“Don’t worry,” Mikayla said, apparently picking up on where my mind was going. “The tabloids might say they dated, but it’s not true. They’ve only ever been friends.”

I grimaced. “Am I that easy to read?”

She laughed. “Only for someone who’s been there. The idea of competing with a celebrity is intimidating.”

“We came as soon as we could,” Gray said gruffly. “Mikayla couldn’t get away from work sooner, and I couldn’t handle the thought of traveling on my own.” His cheeks flushed, and I knew there must be a story there. “You should have told us things were so bad. I wish I’d been able to help.”

Kennedy guided Gray to the sofa and touched the backs of her fingers to his forehead when he sat, perhaps checking his temperature. “There wasn’t really anything you could have done,” she told him. “Sorry if this has brought old issues to the surface for you.”

“Gray had a stalker of his own a while back,” Mikayla murmured to me by way of explanation.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gray groused. “I’m more concerned about you. Did you really get shot?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “But it didn’t hit anything important.”

“Thank God.”

“Can I get either of you a coffee?” I asked, finally remembering the manners Mum had drilled into me.

“Yes, please,” Mikayla said. “Maybe just for me though. I don’t think Gray needs any extra stimulation, do you, sweetheart?”

“No, thanks.” Gray flopped his head back against the armchair cushion.

I frowned, wondering what his deal was, but decided not to ask. I headed for the kitchen, surprised when Kennedy joined me a moment later.

“He has bad anxiety,” she said softly. “It manifests in agoraphobia if he tries to leave his home. He’s come a long way in the past few months. It’s incredible that he’s here at all. A year ago, he wouldn’t leave his house.”