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Clay looks at me, then at the door, then back to me.

“Don’t,” I warn him.

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“You were about to—I can see it written all over your face.”

The corner of his mouth moves, and I pin him with a glare.

“Ares’s shirt looks better on you than it does on him.”

I shake my head, and he falls into step beside me, his hands in the pockets of his sweats.

“Have you eaten?” he asks.

I look at him sideways. “Are you asking me to breakfast?”

He glances over at me. “I’m just asking if you’re hungry.”

“I haven’t eaten, so yes.”

“Then let’s go,” he says. It’s the same way he always says things, like he’s already decided and asking me was a formality.

Under normal circumstances, I would tell him to bite me, but I am hungry and don’t want to face Vero right now. He would know something is up. “Fine, but I am ordering whatever I want.”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t.”

I follow him out to his truck, and he drives us to a little diner about twenty minutes away from the island, which is small and mostly empty. He takes us to a booth by one of the windows, and the lady behind the counter brings over coffee straight away while looking at me curiously. She takes our order before going back over to the counter.

I wrap my hands around my mug, and across the table, Clay is looking at his phone, scrolling and hyper-focused. I leave him to it for a few minutes, then curiosity finally gets the better of me, and when I peek at what he is reading, I glimpse Kyle’s address, schedule, and Nixie’s name in the notes.

He angles the screen away when he notices me looking, but it’s too late. He places the phone face down next to his cup of coffee. “I can’t let him get away with hurting my sister.”

I stare at him across the table. “So what are you going to do?”

He regards me for a long moment, but before he answers, the server brings out our food and places it down in front of us.

“A gentle warning,” he says once she is gone.

And that is how I know we are not just driving past Kyle’s apartment on the way home.

While I should tell him to take me to my place first—I should absolutely not get involved in whatever Clay considers a gentle warning to a man who cheated on me, lied about me to his new girlfriend, and then sent her to harass me at work—I only have to think about it for a second. “I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“Clay, I’m coming,” I repeat more forcefully. “And before you tell me to stay in the car, if you leave me there, I will just get out.”

He scowls at me for a long moment, then puts his fork down.

“You stay behind me,” he says. “And you let me handle it.”

“Sure.”

“Kayla—”

“I heard you.”

Once we finish breakfast, he drives toward Kyle’s. He is quiet the entire time, focused on the road with both hands on the wheel. The building is as nice as I remember it. Clay parks across the street and glances toward me before we get out. “Just remember he deserves this.”