I drove the Jag to the university, enjoying the ride while I could. I’d missed this small luxury. Because I knew most of Asher’s classes were in the business section of campus, I parked in that lot and noted the signs so I could direct him where to find it.

I sent him a text.

Atticus: The Jag is in the business lot. C3. Where can I pass off keys?

I didn’t get a response for over an hour when I was well into an algebra class I hated.

Asher: Library. Now if you can.

Atticus: OMW

I sighed and ducked out of class, heading outside and jogging across campus toward the central university library. Asher waited outside, head down, earphones in his ears as he played on his phone.

I touched his arm, and he jerked, pivoting around to face me. The moment we made eye contact, he paled and darted his gaze away. He popped one earbud and held out his hand when I showed him the keys.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Wanna grab a coffee?”

“Got class.” He went to take off, but I stopped him with a touch. He shrugged me off.

“Ash, we need to talk.”

“Not now. Please.” The desperation in his voice almost broke my heart.

“Okay, but when?”

“I don’t know. Let me… I’ll message you.”

EXCEPT HE DIDN’T MESSAGE ME.

The weekend disappeared. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. Nothing. I’d sent him over a dozen texts, and with Saturday’s studio session booked, I was concerned he’d be a no-show.

It wasn’t like I could pop over to the house and check up on him, and I wasn’t familiar enough with his school schedule to show up at one of his classes when it finished either. So when Jay texted me on Friday night to see how I was doing and to let me know he was in town—alone, a piece of information I’d pondered too long and wondered why he’d felt the need to tell me—I panicked because Asher was still in the wind. So I lied and told him everything was peachy and we couldn’t wait.

When Jay asked me to join him for a drink in his hotel room, I turned him down. The last thing I needed was more confusion in my life. Frotting into a blinding orgasm with my brother was enough for my fragile brain to handle. I didn’t need a married man whose husband carried a gun knocking at my door for a booty call too.

It wasn’t like I could share my turmoil with anyone either. Apart from Jay, Charlotte, and Lewis, no one had a clue what Asher and I were up to. And those three were more strangers than friends. No one knew about our practice sessions or this job we had lined up.