Ben shook his head. “Wore…ski mask. Didn’t see a…a damn thing.”

Her heart was racing.

“Cops…didn’t get him?”

It was Piper’s turn to shake her head. “No, he’d already gotten away before they arrived.”

“Fuck.” The machines around him began to beep faster as he shoved upright.

She grabbed for his shoulders. “Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“He hurt me! Some freak wearing a ski mask.” His breath panted out. “But I got him, too.” His eyes gleamed. “Stabbed him.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology slipped from her.

The furrow between his brows deepened.

“He came after you because of me.” And if Ben had been killed…no, no. She would not go down that road. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

Ben’s breath heaved in and out.

There was a quick knock at the door. Her shoulders tensed as she looked to the right. The door opened, and Eric strode inside. When he saw that Ben was awake—and struggling to sit up—a broad grin stretched across his face.

In a flash, Eric was across the room. He leaned down and hugged his brother. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Ben tried to hug him back. The IV line didn’t offer him a wide range of motion.

A lump rose in Piper’s throat. She could practically feel the love between the two men. Sure, they fought. Brothers did that. Family did that. But she’d never doubted the bond between Eric and Ben. And as she stared at them, as she looked at their dark heads and as she saw the similarities in their faces…

Same hard jaws. Same firm lips.

She realized…those two men—they were the men she loved.

The realization pierced her straight to her soul. For a moment, she couldn’t move at all.

Ben…she loved Ben the way you love your best friend. Freely, happily. She could be silly and crazy or anything in between with Ben. There was never any pressure or judgment.

An easy, casual love that she’d had for as long as she could remember.

But Eric…Eric was something different. And though she’d tried to fight it, though she’d tried to deny her own feelings for a very, very long time…that love had been there. Almost as if it had been waiting in the shadows.

It had started when she was fifteen, and he kissed her while the rain pounded down on them. It had continued when he held her hand at her mother’s funeral. When he’d stood up and clapped so loud and wolf-whistled and shouted her name so clearly at her graduation ceremony.

He’d tormented her, teased her, hurt her…

And still they’d come back together.