“This is our secret, Celia. You have to promise me.” He squeezes me tightly, holding on with all his might. I hope he’s clinging on to us, the love we have, but I think he’s grasping for a reality that no longer exists instead. “Promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”

At first glance, it seems I have a choice to make. I either keep his secret and try my damnedest to protect him by myself … or what? Break his trust and have him shut me out of his life? I can’t help him if he pushes me away, and his mother’s recent state of denial tells me she’s not up for the job. The decision is made for me.

I’ll always choose Lucas.

I grasp the back of his neck and bring his forehead to mine, wishing I could leech out the sickness that torments him. His shuddering breaths bounce between us, and his watery eyes slay me.

“I promise you,” I whisper. “I promise, Lucas.”

And those few words are the beginning of the end. The cold, steely chains grip me, bind me, tie me. Each word, every vow, anchors me to this path of destruction.

I promise.

I promise.

I promise…

“Bright” by Echosmith

Present Day

I SEE THE tiniest twitch of her nose and perk up at the first sign of life. Celia hasn’t moved a single muscle since I dumped her into bed last night, as far as I can tell. If it wasn’t for the slight rise and fall of her chest, I’d call 9-1-1, hollering “Dead fairy, dead fairy!”

I stayed longer than I should have last night, watching her from across the room to make sure she was okay. No, I’m not a creeper; I’m a fabulous fucking friend. Friends don’t let friends drown in their own vomit. I didn’t enjoy it … not one bit, I swear.

Mr. Biscuit, my dog and trusty sidekick, is perched on my knee, body shaking and tail twitching. He’s waiting for my okay to pounce, and I release his collar. He bounds across the room and hoists himself on the edge of the bed while slathering Celia’s face in doggie kisses. When she rouses, I tap my knee, signaling him to return to me. He hops back into my lap and swipes his tongue across my cheek before curling into a furry ball of barely contained energy.

I snatched Mr. Biscuit from my apartment early this morning when I hurried home to grab a shower and get a couple hours of sleep. I have plans for Celia today, and I know he’ll enjoy the day, too. Plus, chicks love guys with dogs. I’m not above using the hound for my gain. I know he would approve.

Celia’s eyes creak open to tiny slits, little dimes turned sideways, as she whips her head back and forth. She immediately thinks better of it as she grips her head and groans in pain.

“Don’t worry, he’s gone. Mr. Biscuit and I chased him away,” I say with a chuckle.

“Huh? Chased who away?” she asks, lifting slightly on her hands and turning to me. She looks confused by my presence, but not necessarily mad about it. I’ll take that as a good sign.

“The raccoon that left the fur coat on your teeth.”

“Ugh. I do have a fur coat on my teeth.” Her lips curl in disgust as she tries to swallow down the cottonmouth I know she’s sporting. “And who’s Mr. Biscuit?”

He barks at her question, tail shaking in excitement. I tap his butt, and he pushes off my leg to meet her.

“Go easy on her, Biz, she’s in a fragile state.”

He lets out a bark in response, and Celia clutches her head and groans. As my hound rains kisses and licks across her face, it doesn’t take long for the groan to morph into giggles.

“I must say, Cain, this is not the dog I pictured for you. St. Bernard, Great Dane? Sure. You don’t strike me as a Jack Russell man.” She scratches behind Biz’s ears, and he flips over, legs up, belly on full display. He’s such a whore.

I prop my ankle on my knee and a fist on my temple, settling into the chair, eyes on Celia. “I don’t require an enormous dog to prove my manhood. That goes without saying, darlin’. Jack Russells are extremely intelligent. I need a dog that can match my quick wit.”

A bit of spunk returns to Celia as she shoots me a grin. “Did I hear you say nitwit?”

“And she’s back,” I say with a smile, beating back the tug on my heart. “Glad to hear it, because I have big plans for us today.”

She stops scratching Biz’s belly and cocks her head at me. “What if I already have plans?”

“Cancel ‘em.” I watch her intently, not wanting to be the first to break eye contact, willing her to go along for the ride with me.

Biz paws at her hand and whimpers, begging shamelessly. She brings her attention back to him, rubbing his belly while she coos at him. “Okay,” she whispers softly.

“Then it’s settled.” I slap my hands on my knees and rise up. “Biz and I will wait for you in the living room.”

“Wait,” she says, only now looking down at her fully clothed body. “I’m assuming you brought me to bed, so thank you. Did you … stay?”

I wave a dismissive hand, hoping to downplay the entire thing and wipe away the embarrassment I see forming in her expression. “Nah, I made sure you were safe and sound, then headed home. I had to round up the hound for our adventure, anyway. I knew he’d want to tag along.”

“I-I’m really sorry about last night, Cain. The whole thing—getting locked out, acting like a blubbering idiot.” She’s quiet for a few moments, but it’s obvious she isn’t finished. “Sometimes it just becomes too much.”

“What becomes too much?” I’m hoping for a sliver, just a tiny glimpse into who she is … what she’s endured.

“The sorrow,” she admits with lowered lashes. “The sorrow and the … the helplessness. I just needed a night to feel sorry for myself. I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“Don’t ever apologize for needing a time out with me. I’ll unlock your door, wipe your tears, carry you to bed, anytime … every time,” I say. I sense the clouds creeping in, so I opt for a change in mood. “That’s what friends are for, right, Tink?”

“Yeah.” Her gaze lingers on me, and a small smile tugs at her lips.

“Now, we’ve got somewhere to be. Get dressed, little one, because we’re beating back the sorrow today.”

“Oh yeah? How are we doing that?”

I stop at the doorway and snap at Biz, but Celia doesn’t let go of his collar. “I think you need a bit of mothering today. I’m gonna see to that.”

“Cain Bennett’s gonna mother me? This I’ve got to see. Get out of here so I can get dressed, then,” she says, and I snap at the dog again. Celia shakes her head in response. “Biz stays with me.”

Lucky bastard.

“What in the hell is this monstrosity?” she asks.

“Huh?” I follow her gaze as we walk out of her front door. “Oh, that’s Big Orange. She’s a beauty, right? That’s a 1975 Ford pickup with a Corvette engine under the hood. Every country boy’s dream.”

She keeps walking to the truck, albeit a little more slowly. “If you say so,” she mutters.

I open her door and help hoist her into the seat. Biz hops into her lap, and I swear, the fucker is taunting me. He’s enjoying this a little too much for my liking.

Am I seriously jealous of my dog? Ya damn right I am.

I want to bring Celia to my parents’ house today, but she needs a bit of background before we get there. I have no doubt she’ll embrace my parents and the dynamics of my family, but I don’t want to catch her off guard. I also have an overwhelming need to protect those I love. I’d never let someone come into my home and hurt my family.