This family and him. The boy who’s always been in me, withme.

Suddenly, I can’t hold the feelings inanymore.

“Tyler.” The moment I look back toward him, those dark eyes are on me. “How do you know when something’s over? Is it when the world tells you it is? When you decideit?”

He’s silent, but I can see the wheels turn behind hiseyes.

“I know when you went on tour,” I go on, “things were messed up. But there was never a time I didn’t want you,” I tell him. “You didn’t seem to think you were whole anymore, and I hated that I had contributed tothat.”

His expression fills with anguish as he steps closer, his body a breath away. “Annie, none of it was your fault. You have to knowthat.”

Despite my vows to keep my distance, I can’t keep from reaching my arms around his neck to play with the damp hair that curls at his collar. My gaze runs over his chest, the hard lines under his shirt—not because I’m checking him out, though his closeness is making me ache for his touch, but because I can’t meet hisgaze.

“In acting class my final term at Vanier, we had to prep monologues about our heroes. Elle talked about her mom. Some people chose public figures. I choseyou.”

He stiffens under me, and I force my eyes up to his because I need to see his face. His expression is filled with longing and something I’m afraid toname.

I’m trapped in his stare, the tension twisting me, wringing me out like one of the wet towels by thepool.

“You will always be my hero, Tyler Adams. The way you try, the way you fight no matter what life sends your way… you are everything I want to be, and it has nothing to do with your music and everything to do with who you are inhere.”

My hand covers his heart, his chest warm through the borrowed T-shirt.

“Everyone okay?” Haley asks as she and my dad enter theroom.

We step apart, but not before Haley’s gaze turns knowing and my dad eyes us suspiciously. “Yeah. Everyone’sgood.”

A distinctive ringtone from my phone on the coffee table has me stiffening in hisarms.

“What is it?” Tylerasks.

I know before I answer. “Reallife.”

12

“You’re not going backto New York for your ex,” Tyler states from behind me as I throw my makeup and toiletries into the tiny suitcase on mybed.

“It’s work,” I insist. “I’ve been here a week, and even though I told my collaborators what’s going on, they need assurances. Especially Ian, because he’s central to the funding of this entireventure.”

The past two days, we’ve been hanging out around the house and the studio. I think he’s worried about me since Sophie fell into the pool, waiting for me to fallapart.

I won’t, but I like having an excuse to spend time withhim.

Once I’ve got my essentials into my bag, I zip the thing closed and drop onto thebed.

Tyler crosses to the edge of the bed, leaning over to stare down at me with broodyeyes.

“I don’t trust him. He’s anasshole.”

“Ian?” I laugh. “How do youknow?”

“Beck—”

“Beck told you?” I shift up on my elbows. “When did you talk to Beck aboutme?”

I think he’s going to deny it, but he only tugs on his hair. “In LA. I hate that someone hurtyou.”

My chest twinges. “You’re a grown man now. You going to beat him up forme?”