The longer I’m monogamous, the more I forget what being that confident, brazen Lily feels like. It’s like parting with a best friend for so long that their face becomes a blurry haze. I don’t miss her enough to cheat on Lo. I just wonder if I’ll ever see her again.

But I know who I never wanted to meet.

Sadie.

Connor’s evil, orange tabby cat glares at me from across his apartment living room. All those grumpy kitties on Tumblr are not just photoshopped. Sadie is proof that felines can contort their face with such hot-tempered malice.

Lo and I sit on Connor’s dark green leather sofa, his apartment decorated like a bachelor pad. Instead of red Solo cups lined on the bar, he has an array of expensive liquors locked away in a glass cabinet. Lo glanced at them once or twice, and Connor ushered us to a seat where our back is turned to the alcohol. That pissed Lo off a little. He doesn’t want to be babied.

Afternoon light streams through windows that fill the entire back wall and the adjacent one. From floor to ceiling, Connor has a perfect view of Philly’s old brick architecture. Like most expensive bachelor pads, Connor has art décor that makes very little sense to me.

There’s just a porcelain ball stationed where a chair should be. I can’t tell if it’s an empty flower pot or a vase. There’s no hole for lilies—okay that came out wrong. But really, it seems silly to have a ball thing just taking up space. I guess that’s why they call it nonfunctional art.

The floors are concrete, but in the living area, he has a nice cream rug that Sadie apparently loves. Because she has yet to step off it. She struts in front of the couch, back and forth, her white tail wagging mischievously.

I have my eye on you, I say with a narrowed gaze.

Despite feeling violated by Sadie, I am relatively hopeful today. I want everything resolved with this blackmailer, evil-texter, or whatever the hell he is. I want to move on and focus on getting healthy.

The bell rings, and Connor opens the door. “You’re late,” he says flatly, in a Connor Cobalt, I dislike you tone that very rarely presents itself.

Ryke’s jaw hardens. “I’m the captain of the track team,” he says. “I can’t leave practice first.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to do anything first,” Connor retorts.

Lo and I exchange hesitation. Something tells me that Connor is not Ryke Meadows’ number one fan. And normally, I’d be suspicious that maybe Connor knows Ryke is behind all of this—that Lo’s brother is the one we should be wary of. But their little heated looks began around the time Ryke dissed Connor in public. It wasn’t one sole event. It was many things. Like Ryke calling Connor an ass kisser in front of his track buddies. Ryke can say those things in private, in front of us, and Connor just shrugs, but hurting his reputation in public crossed a line.

Ryke looks about ready to push through the doorway.

But Connor leads him in before Lo’s brother becomes physical. Connor sits on a buttoned leatherette chair across from us, but Ryke plops right next to Lo on the couch. And I’m reminded that my sister isn’t here to be on my team. Her schedule is too hectic to make the drive to Philly, so unfortunately, I’ll have to carry on without her.

I didn’t realize how much I relied on her support until I felt that uncomfortable dread when she told me she couldn’t come.

Sadie circles the coffee table, but her harsh gaze never deters from me. “Connor,” I say, “I think your cat hates me.”

Connor picks her up in his arms. “She doesn’t hate you.”

Oh good. That’s one less enemy.

“She just hates women.”

Or maybe not.

Ryke lets out an incensed snort. “I thought Rose was making that fucking shit up.”

“When you string together curse words, I go deaf a little in my right ear,” Connor tells him. “What was that?”

Lo is trying really hard not to laugh, and I bite my lip to suppress a smile. It’s too easy to pick on Ryke, especially since the guy takes very little to heart.

Ryke flips him off, mutters more swear words under his breath, and slouches in his chair. “Let’s get on with this.”

Connor strokes Sadie, and even though she purrs, she still wears a mask of evilness—directed right at me.

“I have bad news,” Connor says, confirming that he is indeed the cat-stroking-villain in this scenario. “My PI tracked down the phone number. It was a disposable, so we have no way of knowing the identity of the person on the other line.”

Lo groans into his hands, hunching forward with his elbows on his legs.

I go the opposite route, leaning back into the couch like a tidal wave just struck my chest. What do we do now? “So should I prepare to be in the tabloids soon?” My voice comes out way too soft. Even the thought sends my heart into a dive pattern. I can’t think about it without tears brimming. The shame that I’ll bring to my family…

Lo straightens up and laces his fingers with mine. “There has to be something else we can do.”

“Sure,” Connor says. “But I need both of you to open up about things you haven’t been willing to share. I need your top suspects that you believe could be threatening you. I can give those to my investigator, and he’ll check them out.”

“That can’t be too hard,” Ryke says.

Lo glares at the rug. Yeah, it took me hours just to go through our yearbook and circle faces—only to decide that over half of the student body hated Lo. And that was just prep school. We haven’t even factored college into the equation.

“Seriously?” Ryke’s brows rise. “How many fucking people did you piss off, Lo?”

“I wasn’t well liked,” he retorts. “We all can’t be the captain of sports teams.”

Ryke rolls his eyes.

“You can’t be that surprised,” I chime in. “You met us when Lo was being cornered by four guys wanting to beat his ass.”

“People get upset over the stupidest things,” Lo says, defending himself.

Connor tilts his head. “Didn’t you steal a bottle of alcohol that cost forty grand?”

“I didn’t steal,” Lo says. “I drank from the bottle and set it back. And it was my birthday.”

“How does your birthday strengthen your argument?” Connor asks. “Unless they knew it was your birthday. Did they?” He knows they didn’t.

Lo glares. “Shut the fuck up.” His words come out lightly and they actually make Connor smile.

“What about those guys at the Halloween party?” I ask Ryke. “Do you think they could still be mad at Lo?”

“Yeah, what’s the name of the guy who was really pissed?” Lo asks.

“Matt,” Ryke says. We all stay silent, recalling the moment where Matt ordered his cousins to chase Connor’s limousine down the street as we sped away. He’s also on the track team with Ryke. “I don’t know if he’s still angry or not.”

“How could you not know?” Lo snaps. “You’re the captain. You see them almost every day. Fuck, you just ran little loops with them.”

Connor tries really hard not to grin, but if he wanted to hide his smile fully, I’m pretty sure he could. He’s definitely gloating in Ryke’s misery. I kind of like it.

“You run little loops with me,” Ryke retorts, dodging the accusation.

“Only at your request. If it was up to me, I’d be running down the street, alone.” But there are bars along the sidewalk, and Ryke worries that he’ll be tempted to run inside.

Lo’s narrowed gaze pierces Ryke, and both speak through their hard features. Lo is egging Ryke to say the worst things to him—to bring up his addiction. But Ryke is not willing to go there.

“Look,” Ryke says, “the guys on the team aren’t going to tell me if they despise my half-brother who just spent three months in rehab.”

Oh. He has a point.

“Should I put him on the list?” Connor asks, scrolling through his electronic tablet. Sadie tries to sit on it, not liking his attention divided, but he moves the tablet to the armrest and she curls back onto his lap.