Jack barely moved off his couch, ignoring the world, watching the light crawl across the painted colourless walls of his penthouse.

The stubble on his chin itched but he couldn't find the energy to walk to the bathroom, run hot water and shave. Besides, his razor was in the ensuite off his bedroom and any time he neared the door, it became difficult to draw a breath.

Around him, other memories of Solana floated before him, and he both craved the sensation and hated it. Disgusted with himself and his weakness for being like this. Disgusted, he'd let himself care. Disgusted how he couldn't stop scrolling through her Instagram account, searching for clues. Nothing in the Delgata Racing Group logo, or the picture of her grandmother's cocadas. They'd eaten them one Sunday afternoon with strong coffee. His stomach rumbled at the memory. Buried in his studies, he hadn't noticed his housekeeper enter the penthouse.

"Yikes! Mr. Blackhorne, you scared me." She stood with her hand on her heart. "Should I come back later?"

A mirthless chuckle caught in his throat, and he waved her on. "Ignore me."

Everyone else does.

His voice was scratchy, not having spoken in three days. There was no one to talk to.

She hesitated, then moved to the kitchen, removing empty bottles littered across the counter. Jack gave up on the social media and opened his photos, flipping through the small assortment of snaps he had of Solana. A few from the wedding, her posing in the simple gown she'd selected. An image of her he'd snapped at the motorcycle club, pictures taken in bed the next morning. Each smiling face chipped away at the remnants of his heart.

A notification from Wolfe covered Solana's face, and he flicked it away. Her hazel eyes taunted him, and he longed to see the fire his touch caused. But the photo stayed frozen in place.

The scent of the cleaner used on the granite countertop wafted his way, the citrus tones reminding him of Solana's hair. Jack opened a browser and ordered a case of the brand of shampoo she used online, then canceled it. Nothing could replace Solana.

Parched, he completed his new daily exercise routine of pushing off the couch, shuffling to the kitchen, and refilling his tumbler with alcohol. His hand paused in mid-air as a beam of sunlight shone on the glass. The ray seemed to ask him to stop, pull himself together. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared.

How fitting.

Darkness was where he deserved to stay.

He snatched the entire bottle, leaving the tumbler behind, and returned to the couch. Around him, the apartment echoed in silence. When had his housekeeper left?

A request to let his private elevator up interrupted his first swig of scotch. Maybe she'd forgotten her key and locked herself out. Without checking the monitor, he pressed the button for the elevator's assent and ambled back to the living room.

Not that he was doing much living.

"You look like hell." Ethan stood in the entryway, a paper bag in each hand.

Jack eyed the parcels. "That better contain bottles."

His friend strode to the kitchen, placed the bags on the counter, and started opening cupboard doors. "The orange juice comes in a bottle, so yes." He pulled two plates from a cupboard and placed them on the kitchen island. "More important, I brought food."

"Not hungry." Jack rubbed his chin, his hand smarting from the bristles of his unshaven skin.

"Can't let this go to waste." Ethan opened a container and Jack's stomach betrayed him with a growl at the aroma of roasted meat that wafted across the room. "Ximena made it especially for you."

She'd cooked for him. A torrent of emotions bombarded him. Concern over her health. Guilt at being the reason Solana had left in the first place. The ache in his chest flared up. Loss. He'd lost her as well. The sweet grandmother who made him feel at home in her house, invited him to be part of the family. He could never go back there again. Ximena was Solana's grandmother, not his.

"How is she doing with..."

"Her granddaughter's disappearing act?" Ethan dug into the dishes, portioning out helpings onto the two plates. "She's not happy. Mad mostly."

Jack glared at him. "Mad?"

Ethan poured two glasses of the foretold juice and set them beside the brimming plates. "I didn't catch most of it. Luc translated, but his Spanish is only marginally better than mine." A pang stabbed in Jack's gut at the little boy who'd been left behind as well. "Something about a defective gene in the x chromosome in her husband's DNA. I might be paraphrasing."

"Has she heard from her?" The question tumbled out of Jack's mouth.

He hated the way Ethan's eyes softened with the look of pity he bestowed on Jack. Then they hardened. "Get your butt over here and eat some of this, and I'll tell you."

Jack refused to move.

Ethan shrugged and dug his fork into the food. "Suit yourself." He popped a morsel into his mouth and groaned. "I've died and gone to heaven. These arepas are delicious."

Jack's fingers scrapped against the leather of the couch. He loved Ximena's arepas. The meld of the spices, the slight heat that left his tongue tingling. Ethan pulled a container closer to him and scooped out more. Without a thought, Jack sprinted across the room and yanked the food out of Ethan's grip. The room swam a little at his sudden movement, and Jack collapsed onto the stool beside him. His friend handed him a fork and chuckled, but didn't say a word.

The first bite ignited a hunger Jack hadn't realized he was capable of. Days of existing on liquid alone had left him ravenous and his willpower was no match for the array of delights Ximena had created. The two men constructed a cacophony of grunts and moans as they inhaled the food.

Not until empty containers and empty plates littered the counter did Ethan speak again. "I've never seen you with a beard." Jack's skin itched at the mention of whiskers. "Gives you even more of a bad boy look."

The food in Jack's stomach lurched, and he reached for another bottle of scotch. Ethan pushed his hand away and pointed to the juice. "Drink that." Jack glared at him. "Doctor's orders."

"Did you add vodka to it?"

"No." Ethan moved the juice closer. "You look like you've had enough alcohol today. Or this week." Reluctantly, Jack gripped the glass, tipped it back and chugged half of the orange contents. "Good." Ethan looked around the place. "When was the last time you left the apartment?"

It was Jack's turn to shrug. "What day is it?"

"Right." Ethan picked up a dirty plate and walked around the island. "How long do you plan to let this go on?"

Rage flared, and a "Let?" escaped his clenched teeth.

Ethan tossed containers into the garbage. "I don't understand you. Any other time there's something you want, you pursue it like a dog with a bone, leaving no stone unturned. But Solana gets cold feet and–"

"She left me." He jabbed a finger into his chest. "Left her family to get away from me."

"And that hurt. I get it." Ethan returned to his stool. "But ever stop to consider maybe she's hurting as well."

The concept of Solana in pain sent jolts of anxiety up Jack's spine. "Doubt it."

"You're sure of yourself." Ethan took a sip of his drink. "Or self-centered."

Jack glared at him. "If I was, I'd be on a plane now, demanding she come home."

Ethan crossed his arms and leaned back. "And why aren't you?"

Because you can't make someone love you.

"She knows where I live. If she wanted to, she'd be here." Jack placed both elbows on the cold granite and held his head in his hands. "She said she doesn't, and that's that."

"Did she?"

"Don't be a dick. I'm sure you know the entire story."

"Actually, I don't. Ximena showed me the note Solana left, but it held no clues to her reason for leaving." Ethan opened his jacket pocket. "Do you want to see it?"

Jack snatched the paper out of the man's hands, hating his desperation for any news of Solana and scanned the words.

Abuela,

I'm sorry to leave like this, but it's better for everyone. I'll call soon.

Solana.

That was it? Her grandmother deserved more. Deserved to know why, when everything had been so perfect, Solana had packed her bag and ran. Jack stared at the note. "What does she mean 'better for everyone?'"

"Ximena hoped you could shed some light on that."

"Me?" Jack ran a finger over the words.

"Apparently, Abraham has been spouting about you driving Solana out of town. Ximena threw him out of her house for disrespecting you."

A tiny flame of happiness flickered in the dark cavern of Jack's chest and his lip curled. Ximena defended him against a man who was practically family. He breathed in the concept and held on to it. His lungs deflated. Why couldn't Solana have faith in him like her grandmother?

"Can you really not think of a reason why she would leave?"

Jack shook his head. "There was nothing. She came to my office that day. Said she had something for me."

"What was that?"

"I... I don't know. I interrupted her and Wolfe talking in my office and we got distracted."

Wolfe. The report he'd sent. The conversation in the limo on the way to Ximena's house. About reputation. His affected in particular. By her past. He'd been too busy moping around over his broken heart that he'd forgot about the conversation.

Jack cursed.

"Ah. So there is a reason."

Jack looked at his friend. "I'm a fool."

"No doubt. Care to explain why?"

"Wolfe...he may have made her feel..." The word cracked from his parched throat. Jack gulped more orange juice. "...feel like she wasn't up to his ideal of a companion for me."

"I see."

The piece of paper shook, and Jack folded the note, offering it back to Ethan. "Even so. It doesn't explain why she won't answer my calls or texts. Face it, she simply doesn't want to be with me."

"Really. Why?"

The question sunk into his chest like a serrated knife. "I'm not worth loving."

"Where would you get such a stupid idea?"

Jack gestured around the room. "You've seen my life. My family. My marriage. No one sticks around."

Ethan slipped onto the stool beside him and placed a hand on his back. Warmth seeped between his shoulder blades and the urge to lean into it fell over him like a howling wind. "Is this really what you think?"

Jack reached for the bottle of scotch, but Ethan blocked him again. "Jack. Your parents didn't leave you. There was an unfortunate accident. I'm sure they loved you." Jack huffed. "Your uncle loved you in his own way, and he didn't want to leave you."

"My wife left me."

"True. But neither of you were happy in that marriage, right?" He nodded. "Maybe that was for the best. Wolfe, for all his faults, he hasn't left you. Ximena made this food for you. Luc asked about you when I picked up the food. I'm supposed to ask you—" he searched the ceiling — "Which are the strongest days of the week?"

Jack shrugged.

"Saturday and Sunday. The rest are weekdays." Ethan chuckled at the bad joke. "And then there's me. I'm here, because I'm worried about you. Don't I count?"

"I guess," Jack mumbled.

"Right. So there are plenty of people that want to be in your life." Fingers dug into his shoulder. "Sometimes we assume the worst because we're afraid to hope."

Hope. How could he trust that emotion? It was easier to live in the shadows. He'd basked in the sunlight of Solana and got burnt. He couldn't dare hope.

"I've seen you two together." Ethan released his grip. "It's a good thing she left Vegas, because Solana has no poker face. She definitely—"

Jack's phone blared across the room. Ximena's ringtone. He lunged for the phone, an unrealistic fear licked at the base of his neck. Maybe she'd heard from Solana. Maybe there was a reason Solana hadn't texted him back. A reason worse than the one in her note. One involving hospitals and illness.

With a tap, he answered the call and lifted his phone to his ear. "Hello."

"Jack?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes. Ximena. I'm here. Is everything okay?"

"No."

Hey all. D L here. How are we feeling about Jack right now?

A) He's hurt and has a right to act out

B) He's being a whimp and he needs to go get Solana

C) all of the above.