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I can tell by the way there’s no kiss at the end of the message. By the way he doesn’t answer when I call him.

“Um, I need to go,” I say, standing.

“Is everything okay?” Autumn asks, a frown pulling at her lips.

“Everything’s fine. I just have an early morning and West offered me a ride home. Thank you for tonight.”

Autumn studies me for a moment, like she’s trying to read between the lines, but I force a smile and hug her and the others before I gather my bag. By the time we’ve all said our goodbyes, my phone buzzes again.

I’m outside. – West

A shiver runs through me. God, he’s going to be furious. I’m stuck somewhere between fear and being stupidly turned on bythat. I know why he’s angry. I’m almost certain Parker’s spilled all my secrets to him.

And I didn’t warn him. Because I’m way too much of a coward for that.

When I step out of The Salty Dog, he’s leaning against the black car, arms folded, eyes dark. He doesn’t say a word, just opens the passenger door like it’s a command instead of a courtesy.

I hover for a second, my pride pricking at the way he treats me like a disobedient child. “You know, most people say hello,” I point out. “And yes, I had a lovely time. Thank you for not asking.”

His eyes cut to mine, hard and unyielding. “Get in the car, Eden.”

For a heartbeat, I think about walking away, proving he doesn’t get to order me around. But I let him walk into Parker’s lighthouse unarmed. It’s time to talk. So I get in the car and wait for him to get in.

He climbs in, puts on his belt, and stares straight out of the windshield as the engine starts up.

“Didyouhave a nice time?” I ask.

His hands tighten on the wheel. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I fold my arms across my chest, turning in my seat to glare at him.

His voice is low, controlled, the kind of quiet that’s far more dangerous than shouting. “You went to Autumn and didn’t tell me.” He puts his foot on the gas.

“I needed somebody to talk to,” I say, my voice small.

His jaw tics. “You could have talked to me. I would have listened.”

There’s the guilt again. “Would you have?” I ask him. Because I’m not sure.

Truth is, the sex, the intimacy, it’s everything. But I have no idea how he feels and I’m too scared to ask.

God, I really am a coward.

“At least give me a damn heads up next time, will you? Before I end up with your brother’s fist in my face.”

“Did Hudson say something?”

He shakes his head. “He doesn’t know. But it’s just a matter of time.”

He drives along the coastal road faster than he should. And I stare out of the window at the dark ocean ahead. I messed up. I know. But the silent treatment is worse than him being angry. When he parks outside the North House, I climb out of the car and run to the door, only realizing when I get there that I can’t remember the code.

He brushes past me, his body hard and tense, stabbing the numbers into the lock.

“Get in.”

“So we’re doing the whole dominant thing now?” I ask him. “I guess it beats the silent treatment.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. His voice cracks. “Please.”