I came over last night with the intent to lay out everything and explain Isla. As soon as I walked through the door and saw her dressed as if she were about to climb Mount Everest, I knew something was off. The thoughts of her wardrobe dissipated some when her lips hit mine … and then the shitshow started. Nothing mattered anymore—not Isla, not my problems, nothing—when I saw the bruise on her neck.

My blood ran cold.

And then hot with fury.

Somehow, someway, I need to convince Cassidy to open up about what happened. It won’t be easy. The more time we spend together, the more I’m learning that Cassidy’s been keeping slices of her life from me. I’m falling for this woman whose secrets I need to know.

My attention shoots to the floor when the hallway light flips on, the light shining through the bottom crack of the door meeting the carpet, and there’s movement on the other side. Footsteps, quiet and soft. I slip out of bed, careful not to wake Cassidy, and tiptoe out of the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind me.

Grace is in the kitchen, a green turtleneck on, warming up a bagel in the toaster oven. She gasps, her hand pressing into her chest when she notices me. “Jesus, Lincoln. You scared me for a sec.”

I smile gently. “Sorry about that.”

She tips her head down the hall. “You two finally opened your eyes and realized you liked each other, huh?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Something like that.”

“I’m happy for you two. I swear, just in the short time she’s been here, all she does is talk about you.” She turns to open the fridge and grabs the cream cheese before snagging a knife from a drawer.

I pull out a barstool from underneath the island, take a seat, and clasp my hands together. “Have you noticed anything weird going on with her? Anyone coming over? Her being worried at night?”

“No.” She shakes her head in hesitation as if checking she hadn’t missed anything. “Not that I can think of. We don’t see each other much since our schedules are the opposite. Why? Did something happen?”

I rub my temples, debating on how to answer. Blasting Cassidy’s information would be an untrustworthy move, but Grace needs to know.

What if the guy comes back?

He could hurt her too.

Grace stares at me in question, a bagel in one hand and knife in the other.

“Nah, she just bailed on Georgia’s party and work last night.” I shrug. “Just worried me, is all.” After I talk to Cassidy, I’ll insist she tell Grace.

“I’ll let you know if anything catches my attention.” She spreads cream cheese over her bagel before holding it up. “Want one?”

“I’m good.” I have no appetite.