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“You could try, but your efforts would have been better spent on a man who was hiding in the alley at the staff exit.”

She goes quiet for a second and then looks at me with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“We had a conversation.”

She huffs. “That’s not an answer.”

“He won’t be back.”

She stares at me, and I watch her decide if she wants to fight me more or just let it go. “Thank you,” she finally says, which shocks me and leaves me at a loss for words. I was preparing to face off against her.

“Get in,” I say, pushing off the side of the truck and moving to the driver’s door.

“I can walk—it’s five minutes.”

“Just get in the truck, Kayla.”

She holds my gaze for a second, then gets into the passenger side. Once she buckles herself in, I pull out onto the street. She is quiet and stares at the road ahead, instead of studying me the way she normally does when she thinks I won’t notice.

As I pull up outside her place and kill the engine, she reaches for the handle.

I get out of the truck and make my way around to her side just as she’s gotten out. I put one hand on the roof and the other on the door beside her. She gazes up at me in confusion. “What are you doing?”

I stare at her and don’t have a believable answer for my actions. I have been asking myself the whole way here why her, and I still don’t have an answer. It is something I am not used to. I always know exactly what I want and what I’m doing, but she has completely dismantled that for me, and I can’t decide if I’m pissed about it or not.

“You heard what I said to him today?”

“Kyle?”

I nod, and her brows furrow.

“She’s mine,” she says in a flat tone. “I heard it.”

“And?”

“And what, Clay?” she tilts her head. “You want me to tell you what it meant? You’re the one who said it.” She doesn’t raise her voice but is clearly frustrated. “You have told me to leave, have tightened your hand around my throat and almost killed me. You took me to breakfast, punched my ex, and now you’re standing here blocking me in against your truck. I cannot keep up with you. I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I know.”

“That’s not a fucking answer, Clay.”

“I’m aware of that.”

She stares at me and screws up her nose. “You are the single most frustrating person I have ever met.”

“The feeling is mutual,” I say, and she almost smiles but stops herself. I lean in, and her chin tips up. I know I am about to cross a line, but I am so far past caring I can’t even see the line anymore.

My lips feather against hers, and my phone goes off in my pocket. Neither of us move, but when it goes off again, I pull back to answer it.

“You need to come home,” Ares says. There is no warmth or performance in his voice, which means it’s bad. “Vero is having one of his episodes.”

“How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that I’m calling you.”

“I’ll be there,” I say and end the call. I look over at Kayla, who is reading the worry on my face.

“What happened?”