Autumn stands, breaking the awkwardness. “Right now, we need to figure out the next step. What do you want to do, Jules?”


    “Truthfully? I want to go home. I want to sleep in my own bed. I want to wear my cute sweaters that are in my closet and enjoy October. This is my favorite time of year,” I exin. “I don’t want to be forced to hide.”


    “Then we’ll make sure you get home,” Autumn says. “Don’t let this ruin your favorite time of year. And if things get too bad,e back here. We have plenty of room and food. We’ll have a slumber party.”


    “Yes, absolutely,” Zane says. “Are you ready to go home now?”


    I look at Nick, then at Zane. “Yes.”


    “Okay, I’ll drive the two of you,” Zane offers. “My truck is less recognizable.”


    “I’ll follow separately in the car,” Autumn adds. “Create confusion, but also, I need to pick up some more ingredients from the store. Everyone is getting pumpkin bread soon. I’ve just been in the mood.”


    “Thank you,” I whisper, hugging Autumn.


    “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” she tells me, squeezing me tight.


    “It will. It’s just a lot right now,” I whisper.


    She pulls away and moves my hair over my shoulders. “A year from now, no one will care about any of this. I promise.”


    “Come on. Let’s get going,” Zane says. “We’re taking the truck.”


    Nick wraps his arm around me, and we move to the oversized garage in the back. Zane clicks a button, and the door lifts.


    I gasp. “I didn’t realize you had all of this.”


    Zane chuckles. Inside is a jacked-up truck, a couple of motorcycles, a ssic Mustang convertible, and a Lamborghini.


    “All of this is really subtle,” Nick says.


    Zane chuckles. “I hardly drive any of it. And if anyone gets in my way, it will be a monster-truck experience.”


    Nickughs, and it rxes me. “Shit, let me grab our bags.”


    A minuteter, he’s running to his Range Rover, unpacking our things, then rushing back.


    We climb into the back seat, and the windows are tinted so dark that no one is taking any photos of us.


    “Just like old times,” Zane says, adjusting the mirror. “Remember when we used to sneak out in your mom’s Suburban?”


    “You forced me,” Nick corrects.


    “Oh, whatever.” Zane starts the engine, and it rumbles like thunder. “It was your idea half the time.”


    “Revisionist history.”


    “Remember the Denver concert incident?” Zane grins, pulling out of the garage.


    Autumn is waiting in her Lexus.


    “We agreed never to speak of that again,” Nick says.


    “Now I need to know,” I say.


    “No, you don’t,” Nick insists, but he’s fighting a smile.


    “Nick tried to crowd surf and?—”


    “Zane, I swear to God?—”


    “And security thought he was rushing the stage. Spent three hours in concert jail.”


    “Concert jail?” Iugh.


    “It was a misunderstanding,” Nick mutters.


    Zane navigates down the mountain, and the reality of what we’re heading back to settles over us. Our fingers interlock as I stare out the tinted windows.


    Zane takes a turn fast enough that we slide across the seat.


    “Sorry. Thought I saw someone following.”


    My stomach drops. “Following?”


    Nick turns to look. “Silver Honda?”


    “That’s the one.”


    “Take the next left,” Nick says. “Then double back through the gas station.”


    Zane follows his instructions, and the Honda continues straight.


    “You two have me paranoid.” Zane’s fingers grip the wheel tight.


    “How often does this happen to you?” I ask Nick.


    “More than I’d like,” he admits. “Since I retired, it’s not been like this.”


    The rest of the drive is tense. Zane takes back roads like he’s a local, doubling back twice more just to be safe. Finally, he’s parking on the street in front of my condo.


    “The coast looks clear,” Zane says, but then I see the crowd of photographers waiting.


    “Shit,” Nick mutters. “This is more than before.”


    “You sure you want to do this?” Zane asks. “You could grab more clothes ande back to our ce.”


    I shake my head. “I’m not letting them chase me from my own home.”


    Zane turns and looks at us. “If you need anything, call us.”


    Nick ces his hand on Zane’s shoulder and squeezes. “Thank you.”


    “When I said best friends forever, I meant it,” Zane says.


    They meet each other’s eyes for a long moment before Nick turns to me. “Ready?”


    “No. But let’s do it anyway.”


    “I think that’s our official motto,” he says with a smile.


    “It’s a good one.”


    This time, we’re more prepared for the crowd that surrounds my condo. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself over and over.


    The moment we exit Zane’s truck, I get lost in the shing lights, bodies that press in from all sides, and the shouting. It’s overwhelming.


    The questions fly from every direction.


    “Julie! Are you pregnant?”


    “Nick! How much did you pay her?”


    “Is this real or a publicity stunt to fix your reputation?”


    “Julie, what will you do when he leaves you?”


    “Did you cheat on Craig?”


    “Nick! How many women have you destroyed?”


    Nick’s armes around me, his body bing a shield. I can feel the tension radiating off him. This is his enforcer energy—the same thing that made him legendary on the ice.


    “Stay close,” he mutters in my ear. “Don’t let go of me.”


    We push forward. A photographer shoves a camera in my face—so close that I can smell his coffee breath. Nick’s free handes up, not touching but creating space.


    “Back. The. Fuck. Up.” His voice is deadly.


    The guy stumbles backward.


    Someone grabs my arm from behind, trying to stop me, to separate us.


    That’s when instinct kicks in.


    I spin, using the momentum to break his grip, and in one fluid motion, I palm-strike him in the chest. He flies backward, his assnding on the pavement.


    “Don’t touch me without permission,” I warn.


    The crowd of photographers goes silent for a second.


    Nick stares at me, mouth open. “Are you the Karate Kid?”


    “I need my keys,” I say, but my hands are shaking now, adrenaline making them tremble. “I need?—”


    They slip from my fingers.


    “I got it,” Nick says, scooping them up, still looking at me with something like awe. He uses his body to create a barrier.


    Finally, we’re inside, and we both lean against the door, breathing hard.


    “Are you okay?” Nick immediately starts checking me over. “Your hand?—”


    “I’m fine,” I say, though my whole body is shaking now.


    “You just … youid that big dude out t.”


    The adrenaline is fading, leaving me shaky. “Yeah, and I’ll do it again.”


    “He was two hundred fifty pounds minimum. Nearly three times bigger than you. Where the hell did thate from?”


    Despite everything, Iugh. “I’m a ck belt in karate. Have been since I was sixteen.”


    “You’re what?” He’s confused. It’s cute.


    “I was a very paranoid kid. Ask Autumn and ire. I’m usually very hyperaware of my surroundings, and I was afraid of being kidnapped because I was a cute kid. So, I begged my mom to put me in karate so I could learn self-defense. Also, I yed roller derby for about a decade.” I flex my arm. “These guns aren’t just for show.”


    Nick stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “Roller derby?”


    “Oh yeah. They called me Red Menace.”


    “Of course they did.” He startsughing—a real bellyugh. “My girlfriend just knocked a photographer on his ass.”


    “He grabbed me. Anyone touches me without consent, they get dropped.”


    “That was”—he pulls me against him—“the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”


    “Really?”


    “You went full-on ninja. That palm-strike was perfect.”


    “My sensei would be proud.” I’m still worked up. “God, I haven’t had to do that in years.”


    “Why didn’t you tell me you could fight?”


    “It never came up. Hi, I’m Julie. I make coffee and can break your arm in three ces.”


    He’s grinning wider now. “What else don’t I know? Secret spy? Assassin?”


    “I’m also really good at pool.”


    “Of course you are.”


    “And I can juggle.”


    “Now you’re just showing off.”


    “Oh, and I won a hot-dog-eating contest once.”


    “Stop.”


    “Sixty-seven hot dogs in ten minutes.”


    “That’s physically impossible.”


    “Okay, that one’s a lie. It was only seven, and I almost threw up afterward.” I grin at him. “But I did win. The trophy is at my parents’.”


    “What else? Please tell me you weren’t in a biker gang.”


    “Just derby. We did have rivals though. The Silver Sky yers. Bitches.”


    We’re bothughing now, and the tension breaks. It feels good after everything we’ve been through today.


    “I’m dating Red Menace,” he repeats, shaking his head as I lead him into the kitchen.


    “Retired Red Menace. I haven’t skated in four years.”


    “We should go sometime.”


    “You want to go to the rink?”


    “Oh yeah. Rollerding is something I did a lot as a kid to practice in the offseason.”


    I pat his cheek. “I’d love to see it.”


    “You tell me when, and it’s a date,” he says, his face softening. “Have you ever ice-skated?”


    “Yeah, a few times at the resort. It was fun. Though busting your ass on ice is just as bad as a rink.”


    He smiles, tucking hair behind my ear. “I’m so sorry about all of this.”


    “It’s not your fault. I won’t let you take the me for their actions,” I say.


    He pulls me closer to him. “Jules, I don’t know what’s going to?—”


    Before he can finish, a knock taps on the door, causing us to both freeze.


    Nick moves to the peephole and looks out. Secondster, he opens the door, and ire rushes inside.


    “Oh my goodness!” She drops everything to hug me. “Are you okay? I heard you dropped a photographer!”


    “How did you?—”


    “Someone got a video, and it’s trending. I think the caption said something like Barista Goes Ninja on Handsy Photographer.” She shows me her phone. “Thements are wild. Even the other photographers backed off after that. Don’t mess with Red Menace is trending locally.”


    “Wow,” I say.


    “No, it’s good! People are on your side. Even Craig’s supporters are saying the photographer deserved it.”


    My brows furrow. “Craig has supporters?”


    “He’s been ying victim all week. But this?” She gestures at her phone. “This shows you’re not some damsel he needs to save.”


    “I’ve never been a damsel.”


    “I know that. Now everyone else does too. Red Menace strikes again.” ire grins.


    Nick looks between us. “Did you do derby too?”


    “Only for a year, and then I quit. I learned that I’m too fragile. Look at me,” ire says.


    “What was your derby name?”


    Sheughs. “I was The ir Witch Project.”


    “Of course you were,” Nick mutters, but he’s smiling. “You know, I have a friend I should hook you up with.”


    ire immediately shakes her head, her cat earrings jingling. “I don’t do setups. I want the universe to put the right man in my path. Oh, before I forget … I brought supplies.” She gestures at the bags. “Wine, tequ, chocte, whipped cream.” She waggles her brows, then moves to the next bag. “Sage to cleanse the negative energy and Chinese food because I know you both probably haven’t eaten since breakfast.”


    “Thank you so much,” I tell her. “You’re the best. Do you want to stay and hang out?”


    She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m going to go home and pet my cat, then rot in my bed.”


    Nick gives her a look. “What does that mean?”


    “Exactly what I said. Take it how you want.” ire bursts intoughter. “If you need anything, please let me know. Happy to deliver it to you.”


    After a deep breath, ire opens the door and steps out. She uses the sidewalk like a runway and then disappears through the crowd.


    “Now what?” I ask.


    Nick lifts the bottle of tequ. “We continue the party.”


    We do shots, then copse on the couch with the Chinese food. While we eat, my phone continues to buzz with notifications and texts. When I’ve had enough, I finally check it.


    Mom


    Are you okay? Dad saw the video of you defending yourself. He’s so proud.


    Julie


    Fine. I’m home. Safe. Nick is with me. We’re eating Chinese food.


    I open the next text.


    Craig


    I saw what you did to that photographer. That’s not the gentle Julie I know. Nick’s changing you for the worse.


    I show it to Nick. “He’s still watching everything.”


    “Block him.”


    “I can’t. We need evidence for the restraining order.”


    An hourter, after we’ve finished eating, we lounge on the couch and watch TV.


    “It’s quiet,” Nick says with me wrapped in his arms, a tequ buzz swarming me.


    He’s right; there’s no more shouting or camera shes.


    Nick creeps to the window, staying to the side so he can’t be seen. “The street is empty.”


    “Completely?”


    “There’s one car …” He leans closer. “ck sedan on the corner.”


    My blood goes cold. “Craig?”


    “Can’t tell. Windows are tinted.”


    I get up and join him, and we stare at it for a moment.


    “Should we call the police?” I ask.


    “And say what? There’s a car parked legally on a public street?”


    The car’s headlights suddenly turn on, illuminating my building for just a second before it drives away.


    “That’s not creepy at all,” I mutter.


    Nick pulls the curtains closed. “Tomorrow, we will file that restraining order.”


    “Tomorrow,” I agree. “But honestly, where did all those photographers go?”


    Nick’s already checking his phone. “Something bigger must have happened.”


    “Is this the calm before the storm?” I ask.


    “Potentially.”


    I sink deep into his arms, and he kisses my forehead.


    “Whatever’sing, we’ll face it together,” I say.


    “Together,” he agrees.


    We stay holding each other in the quiet, knowing this peace won’tst. But right now, in my little condo with empty Chinese food containers scattered on the coffee table and tequ warming our blood, we’re safe.


    For tonight, we’re just Nick and Julie, not the hockey star and the barista or any of the other headlines. We’re just us.