That was the night she left.

Having access to his safe, she stole back the contract that he had made her sign, which turned her trust fund over to him when she turned twenty-five. She hadn’t really thought any of it through—how she was going to keep him from finding her, or where she was going to go.

She had just left.

A couple of people had helped her, but from what she later heard, they paid the price. Guilt swarmed through her as she contemplated what Travis might have done to them. Shaking her head at the thoughts, Clare reminded herself that that was exactly why she refused to let anyone else help her again. She was on her own, and as soon as she turned twenty-five, Travis would have nothing to hold over her anymore.

Pulling the coat around her tighter, Clare wondered what her next move should be. She had purposely left behind her phone and any possible way of finding her. She couldn’t risk Travis’s using anything to track her down. It was better that she left now, not knowing where to go.

If she didn’t know where she was going, Travis wouldn’t, either.

Seemed like sound reasoning, until the cold began biting through her thin jacket. Pulling herself up, Clare grabbed her bags and headed toward the Bronx River Parkway to find a bus stop. Still racking her brain about where to go, she played through the list of possibilities.

She could try to go back to California, but she had no family there and Travis had certainly made sure to get rid of all her friends. Plus he would definitely find her there; it was his turf.

Although, apparently, he could find her anywhere.

Sniffing, Clare tried to push the fear out of her mind.

The friend who had sublet the apartment to her was out of the question; Clare didn’t know her that well anyway. She was the daughter of friends of her late parents. Anyway, Travis had clearly figured out that avenue.

That was her entire history, her entire network of people. All summed up in fewer than the fingers on one hand. Approaching the bus stop, Clare realized she had no options left.

This was it.

She was alone.

“Clare? What are you doing at a bus stop?” Or maybe I’m not alone, Clare thought, as she turned to find the voice’s origin.

“Casey, hi…” She fumbled awkwardly with her words, trying not to meet Casey’s eyes as the tall redhead sauntered up to her.

“You know, Rory’s been blowing up all of our phones tonight looking for you?”

“He has?” She felt more guilty by the second.

“And here you are, at a bus stop, with a bunch of luggage.” Casey’s statement definitely sounded more like a question. “Did you guys get in a fight or something?”

“What? No!” Clare said hurriedly.

It was bad enough that she felt guilty for leaving; she couldn’t handle people thinking it was Rory’s fault on top of all that.

“I just need to get out of town”—Clare bit her lip nervously—“at least for a while. Please don’t tell Rory.”

“Why not? I’m your friend, Clare, but I’m Rory’s family first. And to think I was worried Rory would be the one to break your heart. If you just up and leave him for no reason in the middle of the night, I don’t think he will come back from that. He’s been through too much already.”

“I just don’t have another choice. I don’t want to hurt him—that’s why I need to leave. Believe me, Casey, he is in danger if I stay.” Clare felt tears beginning to threaten.

Casey pushed her hands into her pockets, carefully surveying her. Clare gulped anxiously, hoping Casey would give up and leave. Her friend’s eyes were narrow and calculating, telling her that she might not get that wish.

“Come on, you’re coming to my place.” Casey stepped forward and grabbed one of Clare’s suitcases, then carried it off with her.

Clare jumped up in surprise. She needed that luggage—it contained all she had left in the world. But Casey was moving swiftly. Frustrated, Clare followed her. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t a big deal. Worst-case scenario, she decided, she could leave in the morning.

Ten minutes later, Clare was sitting on Casey’s couch while her friend opened a bottle of wine in the kitchen behind her. She was grateful to be somewhere warm, and she had to admit that her feet were tired from working all day. The soft, plush couch was definitely inviting.

“Here you go—some red wine to make you talk.” Casey smiled at her, handing her a freshly poured glass.

“Thank you.” Clare accepted the wine, sipping gratefully. “But there isn’t anything to talk about.”

“Clare, either you talk to me now or I’ll call Rory.”

“Some friend you are,” Clare scoffed, more than a little annoyed.

“The worst. Now talk.”

Clare studied Casey over the rim of her wineglass as she took a few more sips. Finally, she concluded that she really didn’t have a choice; Casey wasn’t going to drop the issue until she knew what was going on.

Now she just had to figure out what to tell her, and how much.

“Casey, I’m not trying to hide things or be dishonest. I promise. It’s just that by telling you or Rory, it puts you guys in the line of fire. And this is my fight. I don’t want anyone else hurt because of it.” Clare hoped to reason with Casey as a last resort.

“Girl, listen, I may be only twenty-one, but I’m no stranger to this. I teach a self-defense class, which has given me a pretty good sense of why you enrolled. Maybe I don’t know the specific details, but I’ve known since the day I met you that you’re running from something or someone.”

“You have?” Clare frowned.

“Yeah, we all are. Everyone has demons. Some are in our heads, some are in our pasts. Others have a pulse and are lurking around in our futures.”

“Which one are you?”

“All of them?” Casey paced her kitchen. “My whole family died in a fire when I was four years old. My older brothers, Declan and Liam, were born around the same time as Rory and Quinn. My dad was Seamus’s brother.”

“I’m so sorry, Case.”

“Yeah, it’s been awful. Rory and his brothers and their parents have all been my only family since then. They took me in right away. Plus, after everything Rory did to save me—well, that’s why I can’t have you hurting him. I can’t let you just run off without telling him why.”

“Wait—what do you mean, save you? What does the fire have to do with Rory?”

“He’s the only reason I’m alive. Our house was right next to his; our dads did everything together like that. He saw the fire from his bedroom window. He was eleven years old when he pulled me out of the house.” Casey finished the last of her wine and got up to pour herself more.

Clare felt tears stinging her eyes as she thought of Rory, everything he had been through and everything he had done. He had told her about the fire, but never once had he mentioned his role in saving his cousin’s life. The thought of him as a little boy facing such a terrifying ordeal was heartbreaking.

She realized then and there that Rory was like that: He didn’t want appreciation or gratitude; he just wanted to help. He spent all his free time volunteering at a shelter, and Clare was the only person in his life who knew. He was training his brother and he had saved his cousin, and he never once asked for a thank-you.

Clare’s chest suddenly felt heavy and tears wet her cheeks as she put her glass down on the coffee table, doubling over to drop her head between her knees. She was trying to regain her breath, but ended up beginning to sob instead. Casey appeared at her side almost instantly, rubbing her back gently.

“Clare, it’s okay, it’s over. Why are you crying?”

“I love him.” She stared up at Casey, realizing that it was true. She knew it now without a doubt, and the thought terrified her.

“We all know that.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m in love with Rory.” Clare sniffed back her tears, calming down as she realized that she sounded a little hysterical.