His face never changed.

“Do you want to come in?” My voice shook, and I coughed to make it stop.

He cleared his throat. “No, I was just popping by to tell you I asked a cop friend to investigate Colby. He said he’s living in some apartments on the south side of Whitman.” He sighed. “I’ve been checking out the carpark and your place from my balcony every night, and if I’m not here, I call the campus police and they’ve done some drive-bys. I know things have changed between us, but I’m here if you need me.”

Oh.

“Thank you. That means a lot.” Please come inside. I fidgeted with the door handle.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket and checked what I assumed was a text message.

“Someone important?” I asked. I tried to keep the resentment out of my voice. I really did. I had no reason to be jealous. I’d had my chance.

He flicked his eyes at me. “My date.”

My heart dipped. “Is she pretty?”

He shrugged.

Pain ricocheted through me. Stop, just fucking stop it already.

I picked my broken heart up, dusted it off, and shoved it back in my chest.

I caught a flash of silver on his hand and froze. My breath snagged in my throat. “You’re wearing the ring I made you?”

He grew still, his thumb flicking at the sterling silver band on the ring finger of his right hand.

“It looks great,” I murmured. “I—I had to guess at the measurements, but it seems like I got it right.” I held myself together. Not letting him see how emotional it made me to know he was wearing it. Did he love it as much as I did? Did he think about me at all?

“Thank you for the gift.” He fidgeted. “I think about y—my mum when I wear it.”

“I—I didn’t expect you to wear it on a date.”

“Jealous?”

I stiffened. “No.”

“Liar.” He shrugged, a sad smile on his face. “Whatever. I don’t really have a date, not unless you count the gym. She can be a bitch sometimes.”

Yes.

“Declan, I—I want you to come in. Please. I need to tell you …” I stopped, afraid to finish the sentence. I swallowed.

He rubbed his cheek, the dark shadow there a testament to his virility, his maleness. His eyes were a stormy gray as he gazed at me, as if a thousand turbulent emotions churned inside him. “It’s late, Elizabeth. I need to prepare for tomorrow, and I didn’t come here to argue with you. Just to tell you about Colby.”

But I didn’t want to argue.

He took a step back from my door and sent me one final look, his gaze distant as it raked over me.

He was done with me. I’d waited too damn long.

I sensed it deep in my soul, that fragile connection between us being pulled taut until it was ready to snap. I wanted to bend over and cry.

And then he was gone.

HALLOWEEN ARRIVED.

I went to class in a daze and by three I was at the bookstore to work my shift. Rick had said we could wear costumes to work, so Shelley and I had done a quick power shopping trip to pick me up something at the mall. I’d ended up choosing a lime green Tinkerbelle costume with a shimmery tank and tutu and pointy ballet flats with a fluffy ball on the toe. Itchy and uncomfortable, I went with it. I didn’t care.

Weighing heavily on my mind was the fight, but the deal was no one knew exactly where and when it was unless they were part of some inner circle. Shelley and Blake weren’t, so we waited to hear through the grapevine.

Shelley and Blake had stopped by the store on their way out to a costume party at one of the frat houses. She’d chosen a zombie cheerleader costume and Blake was a zombie football player. They left to hit the parties, and I stayed behind to finish my shift.

Three hours after they left, my phone pinged.

Shelley.

CALL ME ASAP, her text read.

“Excuse me, I have to get this,” I told Rick and went to the back storeroom.

I texted her, What’s wrong? Still at work. Can’t call. Text me.

Declan is fighting in an hour!! was her response.

I called her quickly, my voice hushed. Rick had a strict no cell-phones-at-work policy. “What’s going on?”

“He’s fighting at a warehouse on Water Street, the one next to the old cotton gin.” She rattled off an address. Her voice lowered. “This place is going to be insane with music and drinking and all kinds of shit. I don’t know if you can handle it.”

My chest rose as I inhaled. I’d already forgotten the address. “Text me the address, and I’ll meet you there.”

I ROLLED MY shoulders and paced around the small area behind a screen that Nick, the fight organizer, had set up earlier in the warehouse, trying to block out the blaring music and flashing lights behind me. Max had counted over five hundred heads at the door earlier—the biggest turnout ever. I checked my wrapped fists and my cup. All was good. I let out a pent-up breath and air-boxed to keep the adrenaline pumping. I was ready to knock this out.

Dax popped around the screen. “This place is a bloody freak show. Students are here in costumes from the frat parties. Suits are everywhere. Fuck, it’s crowded.” He grimaced, his face torn as if something was bugging him.

I paused my boxing. “What’s going on?”

He fidgeted and scratched his head. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I figure it’s better coming from me than suddenly seeing her in the crowd—Elizabeth’s here.”

I stepped back from the screen, my eyes skating through the crowd. “Where?”

He shook his head. “I saw her when she came in, but then we got separated. This place is a madhouse.”

I exhaled. Dammit. Now I had her to worry about. “Make sure she gets out of here, okay?”

He nodded and looked over at Yeti. “He’s fucking huge, man. He looks like an albino rat on steroids … that’s very hungry.”

I slapped him on the back. “Relax, his reach sucks.”

He nodded, his face still unsure, but he gave me a fist bump. “Kick his arse, brother. I got money on you.”

“Done.”

He stalked off but stopped a few feet outside the makeshift ring—chalk lines on the ground—jostling around with some of the more hardcore students for a good view. He was never too far from me at a fight. Max came over and took up position in my corner.

Nick blew a bullhorn, signaling the start of the match, and the music grew louder as I stepped into the twelve by twelve ring. Fucking joke. This fight had no rules and no one ever stayed inside the lines.

Yeti came in like the monster he was, his beefy body circling mine as we sized each other up.

We started out slow, each of us testing, until about sixty seconds in when he launched himself at me. Crisp fists landed on my gut, and a powerful one hit my shoulder as I pivoted away.

I inhaled at the pain, sucked it up.

Now it was on.

I clenched my fists and ran for him and got in four hits to the chest, sidestepping back when he retaliated by striking heavy with his right, aiming for my throat and chin.

He missed.

I attacked again, my palm strikes ripping into his shoulders and gut, slicing up to get to his lungs to knock the breath out of him. Punch. Punch. Punch.

He grunted. Blood flew through the air. The crowd screamed.

Yeah. Go down, fucker.

He tore away from me and paced, his face red as he shook it off, but then he grinned, teeth showing. Apparently, Yeti didn’t wear a mouth guard.

A flash of blond hair in the crowd grabbed my attention, and his palm strike connected squarely with my ear twice, bam, bam, then he flipped around and elbowed me in the gut, his other fist connecting with my temple when I bent over.