No social workers or cops had shown up to break down the door or whatever they did in real life.

Her younger brother had responded to texts that yes, he was fine.

And Tyler was driving her to dance.

It had been his idea for her to go.

Actually, he’d narrowed his eyes at her over toast and orange juice and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing for some scholarship thing?”

And she’d mumbled and made excuses until he’d all but sent the text to Adam himself.

Tyler was having none of her self-pity. He kept whispering to her, seeming to know every time self-doubts crept into her head to set up camp. “You’re not worthless,” he’d murmur, when she started thinking that maybe it was her fault that her brother had started smoking crack on her bedroom floor. Or, “You are brave,” when thoughts snuck up to talk her out of ever leaving his apartment.

But her favorite was “You are special,” whispered while dropping a chaste kiss on the back of her neck, stroking her hair down her back before moving away.

After going to sleep on a declaration of wanting to kill Nick Merrick, she hadn’t realized Tyler would wake up with a mouth full of Hallmark platitudes.

She loved this side of him, this gentle, thoughtful side. She suspected he didn’t reveal it often, or to many people.

The funny thing was, if Tyler and Nick weren’t mortal enemies, she could see them becoming friends.

“What time are you going to pick me up?” she asked.

“Are you kidding?” He glanced over. “I’m planning on staying.”

“Come on,” she said. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not like you’re getting any action from m—”

Tyler put a hand over her mouth. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that. I told you before: I thought your dance was pretty good, from what I saw on the trail. I’d like to see it all put together.”

“Come on. You want to spend a few hours at a dance studio?”

“It’s been a dream of mine.” He glanced over and offered a wicked smile. “All right, brutal honesty: I brought my laptop. I have a paper due in history.”

The dance studio parking lot didn’t sport many cars; no surprise on a Saturday afternoon. This was Quinn’s favorite time to dance: when the sunlight would be warm through the windows, and energy from the morning classes would still cling to the air in the room, and she’d move as if a thousand dancers accompanied her.

Her home life seemed miles away. Right where she wanted it.

At the door she stopped and faced Tyler. “Hey,” she said quietly. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“You’re welcome.”

She pressed her lips together for a second. “No,” she said. “All of it. Thanks for all of it.”