Lucas's sudden appearance blindsided me.

I got out of Caleb's yellow convertible after work.

He stood across the street under a large oak.

Tall, striking. Objectively handsome.

He flinched slightly when he saw me.

Irrelevant. I'd drawn my line.

Lucas didn't leave until it got dark.

At dinner, I glanced out the window.

His silhouette under the streetlight looked achingly lonely.

"Who's the garden gnome?" Caleb asked, following my gaze.

"Nobody," I said.

"Doesn't look like nobody. Looks like someone who lost something he shouldn't have thrown away."

Caleb Crawford. My brother Liam's best friend. The man who'd let me stay in his guest room when I fled the country to escape Lucas's orbit.

"He's my ex."

"The one who hired thugs to harass you on his engagement day?"

"That's the one."

Caleb set down his fork. His eyes went cold—the kind of cold that reminded you he'd built a company from nothing in a foreign country before he turned thirty.

"Want me to handle it?"

"No. He'll leave."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then I'll handle it myself."

Caleb studied me for a long moment, then picked up his fork again. "You've changed. The girl who showed up at my door four months ago could barely stop shaking."

"People change when they stop waiting to be rescued."

Lucas was gone by morning. But his cologne lingered near the oak tree, mixing with the damp autumn air.

I told myself I didn't notice.

I told myself twice.