“KNOCK, KNOCK!” I CALL OUT, RAPPING MY FIST AGAINST THE open door of Clyde’s hospital room.

    “Why do people say ‘knock, knock’ while actually knocking?” he grumbles. “It’s totally redundant.”

    His snark just makes me smile. Because it means he’s feeling like himself. He’s propped up in bed, watching TV, with an abundance of cords and lines surrounding him. But he already looks brighter than when I saw him before his surgery.

    A relieved sigh spills from my lips as I look him over. I promised myself I’d give him a few days to recover before barging down here… but Isted two.

    Tabitha kept me up-to-date throughout the surgery and the first day of Clyde’s and Bash’s recoveries, since she and Rhys stuck around to help. But I think my asking for constant updates annoyed her. She finally asked me what the hell I was waiting for, so I caved.

    “Nice to see you too, Clyde,” I singsong brightly as I sashay into the room. “I brought you flowers.”

    His gaze flicks to the vase of cheerful, yellow daffodils, soft pink ranunculus, and deep purple hyacinths in my hand. “For what? I didn’t do anything.”

    “You didn’t die. Congrattions. A huge aplishment,” I fire back with my sweetest smile, already feeling better for being able to make him smirk.

    “Guess so, huh? Just need a few more days, and I’ll be back to yoga.”

    I ce the vase of flowers on the windowsill before turning back to him and leaning in, dropping a quick, friendly kiss against his stubbled cheek. “I miss you, Clyde, but you won’t be back to yoga until we get clearance from your doctors.”

    He responds with a petnt eye roll. “These fuckin’ clowns don’t know shit. Did you know they had to write on me with a Sharpie saying which side the kidney needed to go in on? A big X to mark the spot.” He shakes his head as he crosses his arms, disappointment dripping from every motion. “Over a decade of schooling, and these kids don’t even know right from left.”

    I bite down on my lip and nod along. “Yeah, I think that might be more of a precaution than anything? I’m certain your surgeon would know right from left. And they must have gotten it right—you look so much better already!”

    He grumbles something about not being convinced, but I ze over it because he’s not yellow anymore. “How are you feeling?”

    Clyde looks longingly out the window before turning big blue puppy dog eyes on me. “Like I want to go home. I will hire you to break me out of this ce.”

    I take a seat in the chair beside him and pat his hand. I don’t know where Clyde gets all his money from because he’s always wearing the same dusty overalls and stained trucker hat. His truck is a relic and constantly sounds like it’s taking its dying breath. But he throws around cash for personalized services like it’s nothing. And truth be told, I can use the extra ie, so I never say no.

    “Hospitals have a strange energy. I totally get it. Maybe I cane help you at home once you’re discharged? We could do some breathing and napping and things like that since I’m already there helping with other tasks.”

    He goes still for a moment, brows lifting as his head tilts in consideration. I swear it’s as though I’ve just seen a light bulb flick on in his head. “Yeah. Yeah. That would be great. I might need more help than usual.”

    “In the beginning, maybe. But I know you’ll bounce back quickly.”

    He turns toward me, an earnest expression on his face. “Would you be able to visit daily to start? Or even do overnight? There’s an extra room. I really think that would be helpful. Apparently, the hospital wants to know that I have someone to assist me in order for my discharge to go through. And I don’t trust many people. We could work out a good sry for full-time.”

    I almostugh in relief. I’ve been looking for a ce in town to tide me over until I can find my next gig. Clyde doesn’t know about my uing housing crisis, but I guess the universe works in mysterious ways. “Would it be okay if I still taught at the studio?”

    The prospect of having both jobs is too good to not ask.

    He shrugs. “Sure. I don’t want you sitting there staring at me all the time. You’ll annoy me.”

    Iugh, thinking about the practicality of adding this responsibility to my te. It feels like the universe has guided me through my life this far, and I’ve taken the opportunities that have presented themselves. And, to this point, it hasn’t led me astray. So I go with that energy. The positive watch me energy that I know so well.

    “Actually, yeah. This will be great,” I say with a soft nod. “You know I’m saving up to travel, but now I unexpectedly need to be out of my apartment by the end of the month.”

    His forehead scrunches. “You didn’t tell me that.”

    I just shrug. “It’s fine. I didn’t want to burden you with that hup.”

    “Well, good. You’ll move in with me. No rent necessary.”

    He looks so pleased that I can’t help but smile. It makes me feel all glowy and warm to see how happy my presence makes him. It’s a reaction I’ve never been able to garner from my father. Instead, I seem only to exasperate and disappoint him.

    Which is why I’m here—out in the world, carving my own path, my own life, exactly the way I want it. And with that goal in mind, I offer Clyde a smile and a firm nod. “Count me in.”

    He brightens exponentially. “Do you promise?”

    Does he brighten just a little too much?

    There’s something suspicious about his reaction. I scan his face for clues. The glint in his eye reminds me of a little boy who knows something he shouldn’t. “You want me to promise?”

    “Yeah.” He nods solemnly, grumbling as he shifts in the bed. “I know I’m a lot to handle sometimes. People get tired of me. Then they stop showing up.”

    I swallow roughly, feeling like I rte just a little too easily. It’s why I keep moving. If I leave first, no one can stop showing up for me. I don’t give them the chance to get tired of me the way my dad did.

    Poor Clyde, though. He can’t keep up with that lifestyle. He is certainly… an acquired taste, but the thought of him being left all alone after a major surgery breaks my heart.

    “Yeah, of course. I promise. I’ll be there.”

    “Great.” He melts back into the pale-blue pillows with a grateful smile on his face. Then he asks, “Now that we’re allied, will you bring me a burger? With bacon? And french fries! They’re starving me in he—”

    “Clyde, for fuck’s sake, you already know you can’t have fast food.” A voice filters from the door. And before I even see its owner, I know who it is.

    I’d recognize that voice anywhere, and a wave of relief hits me when I hear it. He lived. I already knew he had, but seeing him in the flesh adds ayer of relief.

    Since that night standing on the beach, I’ve been worried about Bash. We didn’t talk much after he let my hand go, and I couldn’t help wondering if I’d gone too far. Stuck my nose where it didn’t belong. But he told me to stay. So I did.

    Bash walks into the room but stops short when his gazends on me. He doesn’t look entirely thrilled about my presence. I wince and offer a small wave.

    I get why he stays away from me, but that doesn’t stop me from hating it. There are times when everything between us feels so perfectly natural. And other times, it’s like aedy of errors, where we’re avoiding one another but keep crashing together anyway. I hate how awkward things are with us in those moments. It’s like the ultimate missed connection topped off with a huge amount of baggage. And longing. And… regret.

    So much regret. Should have, could have, would have.

    Why didn’t I take his number?

    Why didn’t I try to find him?

    Why did I automatically assume I wasn’t good enough for him to stay interested?

    I wish they didn’t, but those questions keep me up at night. And just like when I’m lying awake, the hospital room is quiet. Too fucking quiet. I squirm under Bash’s stare, not sure where we stand right now. Sure, we shared a nice moment on the beach, but it doesn’t change everything else that’s happened.

    I half expect him to pretend I’m not here at all, but he acknowledges me with a stiff nod and a terse-sounding “Gwen.”

    Like I said, awkward. But then, I grew up tiptoeing around my dad’s moods, hoping to fly under the radar, so fading into the background is old hat. I can go unnoticed with the best of them.

    Bash turns his attention to Clyde, moving closer. I look him over, wanting to ask how he’s recovering, but other than the light hitch in his step, he appears mostly fine.

    “I’m discharged, but you need to stay for a bit still for monitoring and upational therapy,” Bash starts in, while I do my best to pretend I’m not here.

    My gaze snags on the front of his sweatpants as he props his hands on his hips and talks. The gray sweats. The ones that leave almost nothing to the imagination.

    “They agreed with me that your house is too far from the hospital to be safe or to conduct proper follow-up care. So in about ten days when you get discharged, you’ll stay with me—like we talked about—and we’ll have to hire a live-in aide. They can take the spare room upstairs since you’ll be on the main floor.”

    My attention moves from Bash’s big dick to the words he just said. My head turns slowly in Clyde’s direction as I piece it together.

    He stays focused on Bash, like a puppy who’s done something naughty and is avoiding eye contact. “Oh, thank you, Bash. That’s perfect.”

    My jaw unhinges as I watch Clyde… y him. His voice is all soft, his shoulders just slightly hunched. “I actually hired someone already.”

    A beleaguered sigh slips from Bash’s lips. It’s like he expects Clyde’s going to say he’s hired a dancing penguin or something.

    Little does he know, it’s so much worse.

    Fingers woven together in myp, I can’t help but twist and wring them as the silence stretches on. Bash just stares back at the older man, like he’s waiting to be enlightened.

    His dark eyes slip to the motion in myp, and I stop immediately.

    The fidgeting is an easy tell, and based on the way his brow furrows, he knows it.

    “Clyde, who did you hire?” he asks slowly, with intention.

    In response, Clyde’s eyes goically wide and innocent. And with one shy tip of his head, he says, “Gwen, of course.”

    Bash tilts his head back, big hands propped on his hips as he looks up at the ceiling like he might find an extra dose of patience tucked behind one of the terribly unttering lights. He heaves in a sigh so deep that I can see his chest expand beneath the soft fabric of his white T-shirt, filling his lungs to the brim. Based on what little I know of him, it’s probably a great exercise for calming his nervous system. Except he doesn’t let the air out slowly.

    “Clyde.” He sighs the man’s name, sounding exasperated.

    I try not to take it personally. Rising above is second nature by now, which is made easier by the fact that Bash avoids me like the gue. Most times, the man gives me little more than a nce. He clearly can’t get past me dating Tripp, and while it used to bother me, I’ve let it go. I can’t change the past. I can only control my own feelings, and unfortunately for me, those haven’t changed either.

    Bash just does something to me. Even now, when agitated with Clyde and me, a delicious pressure curls behind my hips, and I try to keep my lips from curving up in a smirk. Much like that night in the airport, his surliness amuses me. Itcks venom. It’s like a mask.

    Sure, Bash and I are mostly strangers, but I can tell he’s all bark and no bite. I grew up with bite. And this? This isn’t it. This is stern on the outside and soft on the inside. This is a man who bristles and grumbles but folds when it matters. And if I had to bet, I’d put money on Clyde’s little heist working—and Bash won’t even stay mad at him.

    Clyde adjusts in the bed, moaning like he’s in pain, one sun-spotted hand reaching across to lie across his abdomen. “She’s already been helping me,” Clyde says with a wince. “I don’t trust anyone else.”

    I chuckle now because I’m going to give Clyde a goddamn Oscarter. He knows exactly what he’s doing. But I quickly swallow my amusement when Bash’s head snaps in my direction.

    Clyde isn’t the least bit put off, though. He carries on unperturbed. “Just because you gave me a kidney doesn’t mean that you’re the boss of me now.”

    “Thank god,” Bash grumbles. “That’s a terrifying fucking prospect.”

    I bite my tongue. I really, really should notugh right now.

    “She’s got nowhere to live. Nowhere to go. You’ll be working—gone, with fire season starting soon. You won’t even notice us.”

    Bash’s gaze bounces between us. “Nowhere to live?”

    I shrug. “I need to be out of the apartment here by the end of the month and haven’t made ns for where I’ll go next. I’ve put out some feelers and have started looking online, so I doubt I’ll be around for longer than a month or two. The timing is probably perfect if you really do need someone to help with Clyde.”

    He res at me like I’m a problem that needs fixing. And that feeling I’ve spent years running from—the one where I worry that I’m an inconvenience—rears its ugly head.

    Of course Bash doesn’t want me in his home. If I stop and think about it, it’s unfair to even ask. He’s just forged a rtionship with his son. Me living at his house? Red freaking g.

    So I tell myself what I always do.

    On to the next stop.

    Maybe this was meant to happen.

    When life gives you limes…

    “You know what? It’s okay. I can probably find something right away.” I p my hands together as I turn to Clyde. “I’m very self-sufficient. I alwaysnd on my feet, and this will be no different.”

    Clyde is about to interject, but I hold my finger up to silence him. “You will find someone more appropriate. I don’t want to burden you or Bash with—”

    “No. You’ll stay.” Bash’s deep voice cuts off my awkward ramble, and I freeze. For that matter, so does Clyde. In time, we both turn to look at him. Flushed cheeks, downturned lips, and crossed arms. “Two months. Not more.”

    It’s not so much of an offer as a demand. One I don’t know how to respond to, nor do I get the chance. Because before I cane up with any other words to say, Bash gives a sharp nod and marches out of the room, filling out his sweats just as well from behind.

    “Quit gawking at his ass,” Clyde whispers, making me snap my gaze away.

    “I’m not. I’m looking at his back.”

    He giggles. This grizzled old man giggles. Like a little girl.

    My eyes narrow, and now it’s my turn to cross my arms and look down my nose at him. Suspicious. “Are you in pain?”

    “Me? No. I’m on more drugs than I’ve taken in my entire life. I can’t even feel my face.”

    I suspected before, but the truth of it dawns on me at once. At best, he’s stirring the pot. And at worst, he’s trying to y matchmaker. “You’re being a little shit-disturber aren’t you?”

    The man’s lips twitch, and he waves me off. “I’m just a frail old man, not long for this world. Let me get my kicks in where I can.” I shake my head at him in disbelief and he peeks my way with a wink. “Plus, his shit could use a little disturbing.”