“Adrenaline crash.”

“Is that when your body says oh my God what the fuck have you done?”

He chuckled quietly. “I think that’s exactly what it is.”

She sucked in a steadying breath and held out her hand. “You’re Noah, right?”

He closed the distance between them and accepted her handshake. Her fingers were small and warm within his. “Noah Logan.”

Alexis pulled her hand back. “Thank you for what you did. Helping us, I mean.”

“I should be thanking you for what you did.”

Alexis hugged her torso. “I should have done it a long time ago.”

“There’s no expiration date on the truth.”

“How about humiliation?”

Noah felt the first stirring of something he didn’t recognize. Something equal parts respect and longing. “I hope we’re talking about his. Because you have nothing to be humiliated about.”

She looked away as if she didn’t believe him.

“So, what’s next?” he asked.

“I have no idea. I’ve been living with this secret for so long. I don’t even know what life looks like or feels like without it. I think I’m just ready for some peace.” She blinked then and studied him. “I have no idea why I’m dumping all this on you.”

“Because I’m here?”

She snorted. “Lucky you.”

Little did he know then how lucky he truly was. In a million ways, Alexis was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And he had no idea how to tell her that without ruining it.

The sound of crinkling paper brought him back to the present. Alexis leaned against the counter next to him and opened her second taco. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed this.”

“I had a hunch that you would have forgotten to eat again.”

“It’s been nuts in here today.”

“The girl come back?”

“Yes.” She said it with an annoyed groan.

“What’s that noise mean?”

Alexis swallowed. “It means she looked like she was finally going to talk to me but then Karen marched in.”

Noah reached over and plucked a stray piece of cilantro from the corner of her mouth. “What’s she pissed about now?”

Alexis launched into a story involving parking lots and a dead rat.

“It couldn’t have been him,” she said of the part cat, part demon that was one hundred percent terrifying. “He’s been inside all day.”

She gestured toward a cat tree by the front window. Beefcake flexed his paws, and Noah’s life flashed before his eyes. He’d never been high on the cat’s very short list of people he tolerated, but things had taken a turn for the worse a month ago. The vet put Beefcake on a diet, and now the cat stared at him like a platter of BBQ chicken. He had an unkempt, murderous look about him, as if he’d just gone a few rounds inside a clothes dryer and liked it. His hair stuck out at wild angles with spiky tufts atop each ear. Over his eyes was a unibrow of dark, unruly gray fur that gave him the look of a perpetually pissed-off cavalry man in old Civil War tintypes.

“Anyway,” Alexis sighed with a stretch. “She said she was going to take this up with the city, and then she stormed out.”

“What the hell does she think the city is going to do? Change parking ordinances? You’re not breaking any laws.”

“I’m a dirty slut, remember? That’s the only law she cares about.”

Noah stiffened. “She said that?”

Alexis brushed a curl off her face. “Not in so many words. But her meaning was clear. We’re just a bunch of lying harlots.”

Noah scowled. “I hate it when you say shit like that.”

“Just repeating what everyone else is thinking.”

“No one decent thinks that.”

“I think you overestimate human nature.”

Noah snorted. “I’ve definitely never been accused of that before.”

Five years in the hacktivist community had left him with little hope for humanity. But she was also right. The months following the Royce incident had introduced him to a depth of human depravity he hadn’t known existed. His blood boiled just remembering some of the voice mails and emails Alexis had received from Royce’s fans. Even with a dozen credible accusations against him, his most rabid fans still refused to believe that their precious hero would do anything wrong. The women must have been lying. They were just disgruntled former employees or spurned lovers.

Noah had helped Alexis set up a new email filtering system that blocked the worst of the messages, but he knew she still received some of them. She had gotten good at just deleting them, but sometimes she still shared the most egregious with him. She’d shrug and say she was used to it, but Noah could read her body language like a favorite book. Her lips would flatten, and she’d have to swallow before talking. It bothered her. A lot. But anytime he suggested she do more to fight back, she would say it wasn’t worth the time or effort. Her life was about finding peace now.

Noah felt her gaze on him and glanced over. “What’s up?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at me. Do I have something on my face?”

“Yeah, this,” she said, reaching over to scratch his beard. “What do you look like under all that scruff anyway?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “You don’t want to know.”

“Wow. That bad, huh?”

“No. That good. I have to scruff myself up, because the level of male beauty under all this is more than mere mortals can handle.”

“So it’s a public service.”

“Absolutely.”

Alexis swallowed another bite. “Is Zoe going to be there tomorrow?”

They were going to his mom’s house for dinner to celebrate his birthday. His sister was supposed to be there, but . . . He shrugged. “Who knows? It’s Zoe. She does what she wants.”

“Marsh?” Alexis asked casually.

“He’ll be there too.”

She offered him a sympathetic smile, because she knew there was nothing else to be said. His relationship with his father’s old army friend, Pete Marshall—or Marsh, as everyone called him—was complicated. Noah wouldn’t be where he was today without Marsh’s help and guidance, but his support came with strings attached. The kind that were a constant reminder that Noah would never be the man his father once was.

Noah stood and raised his arms in a stretch with a loud yawn. “Need any help cleaning up after yoga tonight?”

One of the many things Alexis did for the women who came to her café seeking help and support was a monthly yoga class designed just for survivors of sexual violence. The class was tonight.

“I think Jessica and I can handle it, but thanks.”

“Damn. I was hoping to have an excuse for getting out of going to Colton’s.”

“Why?”

“He opened another phishing email and screwed up his entire system.”

Alexis laughed sympathetically. “Want to start the LEGOs tomorrow night after we get back from your mom’s?”

“Hell yes.” He held out his pinkie finger for her to grasp. It was their own secret handshake. “See you then,” he said, turning to leave.

“Hey,” she said behind him.

He turned around.

“Ask your mom what I should bring for dinner tomorrow.”

He walked backward as he spoke. “You know what she’ll say.”

“‘Just yourselves.’”

He grinned.

“See you tomorrow,” she said.

And the clock in his brain immediately started counting down the minutes until then.

CHAPTER FOUR

“We’re going to run out of space soon,” Jessica said, tugging her hair into a ponytail several hours later.

They stood by the counter to survey the room. Tables and chairs had been pushed to the side and stacked to make room for yoga mats and—if everyone who’d RSVP’d showed up tonight—the nearly twenty women looking to reclaim their lives through the power of mindful movement.

“Maybe we should start looking for another place to host the class?” Jessica suggested.

Alexis nodded absently, because she didn’t want to commit to that, if for no other reason than to not give Karen the satisfaction of thinking she’d driven the class and the survivors away.

“We’ll figure something out,” Alexis finally said, crossing the room to hang a sign on the door that read CLOSED FOR PRIVATE EVENT. She shoved a wedge under the door, though, so women could still get in. She’d taken Beefcake home earlier, because two of the class regulars were allergic to cats.

The instructor, Mariana Mendoza, arrived first. She greeted Alexis and Jessica with breezy air-kisses followed by fist bumps. The class had actually been Mariana’s idea. She’d approached Alexis at the café several months ago, and Alexis was sold immediately. Mariana was a licensed counselor as well as a certified yoga instructor. The concept she proposed wasn’t a new one; survivors had been using yoga to reclaim their lives and their bodies for a long time. But there wasn’t anything like it yet in Nashville, and Alexis knew she had to be the one to host the first.

Their initial class four months ago had just three participants, including Alexis and Jessica. But once word spread, more and more women began to trickle in every week until they’d filled every inch of space. Jessica was right. They were going to need to find another location soon if they wished to allow as many women as possible in the class. Something else to add to her to-do list.

While Alexis and Jessica changed into their yoga clothes, several women arrived and began stretching on their yoga mats.

Mariana approached Alexis quietly near the front. “And how are we doing?” Mariana always spoke in the royal we.

“Good,” Alexis said with a shrug. “Busy, but good.”

“We look tired. Are we sleeping well?”