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“I believe you,” I repeated softly. “I just wasn’t expecting it. That’s all.” I’d expected something awful—known it was coming, really—but hadn’t been able to figure out what exactly had happened. I suspected I’d get this nauseating rush of horror every time he peeled back another layer of what that asshole neighbor had done to him.

I wanted to confirm that part, too—that it was Gordon, the creepy, crusty old dude from his parents’ party—but I wanted this to be on Nolan’s terms. Let him show the cards at his own pace, including the ones he didn’t realize he’d already shown.

Nolan studied me for a moment, and his hackles came down a little, as if he took me at my word that I really did believe him. And I didn’t take it personally that he’d thought I wouldn’t; I’d worked in law enforcement too long to be surprised when victims expected to be dismissed as liars.

“I believe you,” I said once more. “And to be clear, everything between us—I’m not in any hurry. I don’t want to rush anything. I wouldn’t anyway, but knowing something like that happened to you…”

He grimaced and broke eye contact.

I squeezed his hand. “If you decide you’re ready to be on top, say so. And if you’re not ready, that’s fine, too. Everything we’re doing—there’s nothing lacking. The last thing in the world I want is for you to feel like youhaveto do something.” I let go of his hand and caressed his cheek. “Especially when it’s something that has trauma tied to it.”

He flinched at the words, but not away from my touch.

“This is supposed to be fun,” I whispered. “For both of us. If it’s not, then…” I shook my head.

“It is,” he said just as quietly. “The things we do—I enjoy it a lot.”

“Okay. Then let’s leave it at that for now. If you’re ready to try topping, great. If not…” I gestured dismissively. “Then we don’t have to. End of discussion.”

Nolan studied me uncertainly. Slowly, he started to relax, and only when the tension started to unwind did I realize just how tense he’d been.

“Thanks,” he finally whispered. “I know it kind of sucks, not being able to—”

“Realizing someone hurt you?” I broke in. “Realizing someone got away with being a human trash fire to you? Yeah. That sucks. But this?” I gestured at him, then myself. “I don’t have any complaints about it.”

“I do,” he muttered. “I hate having it hanging over me all the fucking time. I want to just… enjoy sex, you know? It sucks that I can’t just shake it off and move on.”

“I bet. But don’t think this is, like, an inconvenience or an annoyance for me, okay? Because it isn’t. It’s like sleeping next to someone who has PTSD from the war—we both roll with it when it’s an issue, but it’s not going to chase me out of bed or make me not want to be there in the future.”

The disbelief in his eyes was heartbreaking. Maybe it was just as well he hadn’t pointed out—or at least confirmed—who’d been the one to hurt him. The last thing he needed was me catching a charge at his brother’s wedding because I decided to go vigilante boyfriend on someone.

But if that crusty old neighbor so much as looks at Nolan sideways, I might need bail money.

I didn’t say that, though. “You don’t have to tell me anything. But… if you ever want to, I’ll listen.”

Nolan met my eyes, and a soft, tired smile spread across his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I hoped he did.

We met Sophia and her entourage at the strip club in downtown Seattle. It looked completely different from the one we’d gone to last night, and yet it was clearly the same type of establishment. Top shelf liquor backlit by bright lights. Walls painted black. Servers and bartenders without shirts—all male this time. Bead curtains and black lights. The booths didn’t have poles set up for dancers, and there was one main stage at the front of the room, but it still had the typical strip club vibe.

We weren’t the only bachelorette group there, either. Another bride came in wearing a veil covered in plastic penises, and Sophia wagged a finger at her own girls. “Don’t any of you even think about it!”

“What?” Leann smiled innocently. “We’d never make you wear a bunch of dicks!”

Sophia cocked a brow.

Turned out she was right to be suspicious. Leann and Carly opened their bags and pulled out handfuls of Mardis Gras beads, though the beads were shaped like tiny penises. They draped them over Sophia’s neck as she groaned and muttered, “Oh my God, I hate you guys.”

The coup de grâce was a gaudy tiara with what I thought was an actual tiny dildo glued to the front. Sophia glared at it, but then rolled her eyes and let Leann put it on her head.

The girls all put on the beads too, and they turned to us.

“What about you boys?” Carly jingled a few strands in the air. “You going to wear some?”

“Uh…” I turned to Nolan.

Before he could respond, Leann tossed a handful of them at him, which he caught, and she said, “Oh, play along, Gumby! Put them on!”

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