Not in the entire state of Massachusetts. Or hell, all of New England, most likely.

Heather, smart as a whip and more protective than a lioness with new cubs, had formulated a plan before she ever arrived and saw my face.

My voice had said it all. He hit me.

We went straight from the hospital to Target to grab necessities, and she dropped me off at Boston’s Logan Int’l Airport with a flight for three hours later to Las Vegas.

How in the hell she managed to do all of it was anyone’s guess, but I’d long since stopped underestimating Heather.

She would do anything for the people she loved.

Lucky for me, she loved me.

Now, I was sitting on the front stoop of a practical stranger’s house in the middle of the night, my head aching, my side bruised to hell and back, five stitches on my upper cheekbone outside my eyes, my palms and knees still scratched up, and the pain pills wearing off trying to stay awake for a man I’d met once.

Kane Andrews.

Heather’s older brother.

My best friend’s incredibly sexy, professional hockey playing and super kind, older brother.

Who wasn’t here like Heather promised he would be.

Hell, what if he said no?

There were a million reasons why he wouldn’t want my current drama dropped on his doorstep.

“Crap,” I whispered and propped my elbow on my knee, my chin into my palm, careful of my stitches.

I probably looked like a victim straight out of a teen horror film, despite Heather’s attempts to clean me up with Target makeup and clothing.

I needed sleep.

Tomorrow, I'd figure things out.

You can return home when you’re ready to apologize.

Home.

Bullshit.

I was never going home again.

Lincoln Powers, future heir to the Regal Hospitality and Travel mogul, could fuck. Right. Off.

“Hey.” A gentle poke pushed at my shoulder. “Hey. Emmersyn?”

I must have been dreaming. The man’s voice was quiet. Deep. A rumble that reminded me of distant ocean waves. “Emmersyn. Wake up.”

He jostled me more, the voice became louder as he prodded my shoulder again and I opened my eyes.

My head jerked up, shooting pain through my side and the stitches on my cheekbone.

“Oh.” I blinked. “Did I… Kane Andrews?”

I recognized him immediately. Hard not to with the pictures Heather always showed, bragging about her awesome older brother. I’d met him once when Heather had taken us all out when he’d been visiting Boston. We’d gone to his hockey game and met him and some of his teammates for dinner after. He’d been loud then. Easy smiles and love for his sister, constantly jostling her and calling her a brat. He had a thick beard then.

Not now. No…

Now he was scowling at me like he wanted to rip my head off.

“Who in the fuck hurt you?”

“Oh.” Right. Heather promised he was a good guy. The best. That he was almost a full country away from my current problem was a bonus. “Um. Hi?”