For days, we’ve only communicated through email and text. Only the necessary things like interviews and rules, nothing personal. It’s so cold and it breaks my heart, but I won’t stop trying to see her.

Every time she spots me outside her house as I sit on my motorcycle watching her get ready for work, she frowns at me. So I leave, because I know she’s not ready yet. But I always come back.

She just needs time to think about us, so time is what I’m gonna give her … but not without me being near her. I can’t deal with it if I can’t see her. If I can’t keep on believing that she’ll be ready for me someday, then I have nothing left to live for.

I lived on shreds of happiness, moments in my life with her, for these last few years, but it’s not enough anymore. Those small sparks I felt when I thought of her were what kept me going, what fueled me to go into racing and to prove to myself and to her that I could aspire to something more than just a worthless asshole.

However, those sparks aren’t enough for me anymore. I need her. I want her in my life as more than just my go-to girl for PR, as more than just my stepsister. I long for her the way we used to be before I blew everything.

The sun is down, and the streetlights are on, only barely illuminating the dark streets. Her building stands out in the moonlight, towering above the rest of the city. As I sit here on my bike in a nearby alley, staring at the front door, wondering about when she’s coming back and what the hell I’m doing with my life, I spot her walking down the sidewalk while searching through her bags for keys. She keeps sifting through it, getting more panicked as time passes. I wonder if she lost them, and if so, where. Should I go and help?

But then I see another man running after her, a guy with a baseball cap and jogging suit on. I watch as he taps her shoulder and she turns around with a scrunched up nose. He smiles awkwardly and hands her the key while saying something. I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying, but I guess she’s thanking him for his help and that’s that, because she turns around immediately and starts walking again.

Except the man doesn’t stop walking after her.

Concerned, I watch closely as she glances at him over her shoulder and speeds up her walk. Something’s not right. The man behind her keeps walking after her, not even taking a turn when the opportunity presents itself, even though her building is practically situated in a dead end. She looks behind her again, and then her feet are carrying her faster than lightning as she starts running. She enters the building, the man following suit.

I don’t spare a second to kick into gear and race toward her building, parking right outside, not giving a shit if my bike is secure. This dude has no business going into her building, and my gut tells me he’s looking for trouble. Whatever’s on his mind, it’s not good. Well, he’s messing with the wrong guy. That’s my girl, and I’ll protect her ‘til my death if I have to.

As I bulldoze into the building, I hear them running up the stairs. Thud, thud, thud. He’s skipping steps to get to her quicker than she can run to her door. I can already picture her frantic breathing, her fingers fumbling with the keys as she attempts to force them into the lock. All while this menacing fucker is behind her, thinking of all the ways he’s going to hurt her. Or worse …

I stomp up the stairs, adrenaline kicking into full gear as I realize what’s about to happen. Every second is one too many. She’s in danger and I have to get to her, now.

The moment I arrive on her floor, everything feels like it’s going in slow motion. I hear her scream. The guy has her wrist pinned tightly behind her back, pushing her against the door. The key has dropped on the floor, along with her purse. He’s groping her with one hand, his tongue dipping out to lick her skin. I won’t let it make contact. When her eyes connect with mine, I know what I have to do.

“GET OFF HER!” I rush toward him, tackling him in the process. I don’t give a shit if I get hurt, as long as this motherfucker gets what he deserves.

“Get off me!” he yells, trying to wriggle out from underneath me, but I punch him in the face, hard, over and over again.

A groan leaves his mouth, his teeth shattered, sparsely scattered on the floor, his nose broken from one single impact.

“You thought you could have her, huh? Did you?” I punch him again, this time in the stomach.

He cringes so much, he bucks, and for a second, I think he’s going to puke, but then he rolls over to a fetal position. “No, stop.”

“Stop? Did you ask her if she wanted you to touch her? You filthy piece of shit!” I punch him again, causing him to howl.

“Chris! Stop,” Emily says.

“I’m sorry!” he says.

I grab his collar, dragging him up so I can scream in his face. “Sorry won’t fix what you just tried to do!”

“It was a mistake. I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

“Promises mean shit coming from scum like you.” I try to punch him again, but her voice breaks into my thoughts and makes me stop.

“Chris! Enough!”

I look up at her eyes, which sparkle from the impending tears. Her eyes, gentle and yet so terrified, soften my hardened heart.

“Please …” the guy begs.

It’s not his begging, but her pleading gaze that makes me stand up. The guy immediately crawls out and scrambles up to two feet.

I growl, “If I ever see your fucking face here again, I’ll kill you.”

Chapter 28

Chris

Emily’s attacker doesn’t even dare to look at me as he tries to run past me, but I’m looking at him all right. I’m keeping eyes on him like a hawk until he’s down the stairs and out of the building before I return my attention toward Emily.

“Are you okay?” I say, as I grab her arm and look at the mark he left. There’s a bit of a bruise, but I can’t see anything else.

“I’m fine …” she says, jerking away, but her eyes tell a different story.

She’s shaking in her boots, but it’s as if she’s trying to hide it from me. I don’t understand why.

“You don’t look fine,” I say as I tip her chin up with my index finger.

Her eyes drift off, but I can definitely see the tears.

“C’mere,” I say, and I drag her toward me.

“No, I said I’m fine,” she says, turning the other cheek.

She bends over to grab the keys from the floor and opens her door without even granting me one look.

“Em … are you sure you’re gonna be all right?”

She stands in the door opening, frozen, and then her body starts to tremble again.

The moment I step toward her so I can hug her, she says, “Stop.”

“But—”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.

“Do what? Protect you? Fuck, Em, you still don’t realize how much I care about you?”

“You almost killed him.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. She’s right; I would’ve killed him if I had the chance. If she hadn’t stopped me, I would have.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away there. But he was about to hurt you. You have to understand.”

She shivers, grabbing her arms as if she’s cold. “Promise me you don’t go after him.”

I frown. “Why do you care so much?”

One quick glance over her shoulder and I’m weak at the knees. “Because I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

To an outsider, it might sound like she’s lecturing me, like she’s telling me what to do, or what I can’t do. But I know she’s only saying it because she’s afraid to lose me. She doesn’t want me to go to jail, or worse, end up dead. All because I tried to get revenge on the dude who tried to lay a hand on her.

Goddammit. If I could go back and punch him in the face, I’d do it until it landed me in jail. My fist is chomping at the bit.

“I could kill that motherfucker …”