I open my eyes and meet his gaze, awestruck by the intensity of his stare. There’s anger and frustration on his face, but an admiration and appreciation that’s new. Something passes between us. Without me having to explain myself, I know he knows.

Why did I do it?

Why did I put myself at risk, against impossible odds, to save his brother?

I acted on instinct.

I did it because it was the right thing to do.

I did it because of him.

And now we both know this is no longer a game.

I gulp past the lump in my throat and will myself to speak. “I’m not scared of Andrew Adley,” I insist with a shrug. “I was just shaken up and spooked last night.”

Dempsey glares at me, no doubt preparing to challenge my indifference.

“Hey,” I reprimand, standing up and wrapping my arms around his neck.

He doesn’t pull out of my hold, and in that moment, I know: this is no longer a game for him, either.

“I don’t regret anything about last night.” I give him a heated look as I cling to his neck. “I would do it all over again if I could, even knowing the outcome in advance.”

I lick my lips, and he tracks the movement. But he’s not done with his overprotective tirade.

“You’ll tell me if he tries to contact you, or if you see him around town.”

“Oh will I?” I challenge.

He shakes his head and smirks before wrapping his arms around me and hauling me into an airtight hug.

I sigh contentedly before I can hold back my reaction. I love the way I feel in his arms.

“You will,” he growls into my ear. “You’re not alone in this, Maddie. I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to you because of my brother’s dumbass choices.”

I say nothing, instead savoring the feeling of his arms wrapped around me. I nuzzle against his chest, soaking in his warmth and protectiveness. I tilt my head back to meet his gaze, silently begging him to kiss me.

Instead, he loosens his arms, bends low, and places a peck on my forehead. “Come on,” he urges, taking my hand and pulling me toward the door. “I have to get you home.”

22. Dempsey

Chapter 22

Dempsey

We’re silent for most of the drive back to her house. It’s not an uncomfortable silence—it feels more like a peace offering on her part. How the hell she knows when I need to be with my own thoughts shocks the shit out of me. Even my own twin rarely picks up on that. Or if he does, he ignores it. Somehow, she just knows.