Kat

"Get your fine ass up, Katheryn," a voice growls in my ear.

"Why do you keep sneaking into my room and waking me up?" I groan and wiggle my head under the pillow.

Colin rips the covers off .

 "Colin!!!"

"Shit! Sorry!" he yells and throws them back over me, stepping back, covering his eyes with one hand.

I'm naked. I just didn't feel like putting on pj's last night. My clothes are in a pile beside the bed.

I flip over, holding the covers to my chest. I squint at him. "Get out, pervert!" I yell at him.

He turns away from me, facing the door, one hand still covering his eyes to make a point that he's not trying to look. "I'm going, as long as you're getting up. You can't keep doing this—" he picks up the empty Ben and Jerry's carton off my nightstand, "without some of this—" he pumps out power squats with perfect form.

I sigh, admiring his cute heiny. It's really too bad I couldn't bring myself to fall in love with Cols. I still think Trace is wrong about him. He's not an abuser; he's more like a hapless super-hero. Clark Kent most of the time, but when he goes Superman, he doesn't know his own strength. He is maybe a little controlling, though. He needs a girl that loves being taken care of. That's not really me. I mean...not the real me.

But he is sort of right, about the depressive ice-cream eating. And I really do like the way he pushes me at the gym. At least, when I look in the mirror.

"Get up, Ballard!" He picks up a discarded pillow near the door and tosses it over his shoulder. It hits me square in the face. Prolly cause of the x-ray vision.

"I hate you," I mumble.

He pauses, his hand on the door. "You hate everybody right now. Even Maddie and Laurel. Why did you send them home, anyway?"

"They were getting on my nerves, wanting me to accept those clubbing offers so they could come with," I mumble.

"Well, I don't want you to prostitute yourself for fame. I want you to get the fuck up and put that rage on the road. We're doing a 10K this morning."

He stalks out and closes the door. I sigh. I pick up my phone,ignore Trace's morning text and dial Ben's number. I'm sure he's downstairs in the kitchen, where I've found him every morning for the last four or five.

"Need something, Ms. Ballard?" Ben abruptness always surprises me a little.

Yeah, I do, Ben. I need to bitch at somebody, because the somebody I want to eviscerate with my words is occupied with his wife. "You suck at your job," I tell him. "That's the second time in two weeks you let my ex-boyfriend sneak into my bedroom."

"This time he didn't sneak. I let him in."

"Oh, now you are aiding my stalker? He saw me naked, Ben."

"Sorry about that, but we both know that Colin is no stalker. And I thought you would be expecting him. It's not like we haven't run every morning this week."

"Maybe I wanted to sleep in today, Ben. Did either you or Colin think of asking me?"

"You need the endorphins. Makes you feel better."

"God, Ben, you're my security guy, not my therapist."

"I'm just saying, most people don't cry when they put soda cans in the recycle bin. Who does that?" he challenges.

I'm sure lots of people, Ben. People who see empty champagne bottles in the recycle bin. People who have exquisite memories of what it felt like to be champagne-slurped by the boy of their dreams who turned into a sexy rock star who turned into a brother-in-law.

I start to tear up again.

"Uhhhhg, I hate you, Ben." Colin is right; I hate everybody.

"You won't, if I ever actually have to do my job and protect you. Are you coming down or do I send Colin home?"

I get dressed. We run. Ten long ass kilomoters. I hate that too.

But when we are done, I don't hate laying on the double chaise lounge sharing a coconut water with Colin. Ben was right; I do feel better after exercising.

My phone alerts. I don't have to look to know it's Trace. He texts me at 8 in the morning, at noon, and right before he goes to bed, which varies. He's done this every day. I haven't responded.

"So, confession..." Colin says, passing me the coconut water.

I swallow. "You do not have to tell me about the girls you hooked up with while I was gone," I promise him from behind my sunglasses.

He laughs. "That's not what I was going to confess. I don't kiss and tell, darlin. You should know that. And anyway, it's not like we are getting back together." It's not a question, or a challenge. It's just a statement.

"I am sorry, Colin." I try to keep my voice even and not cry. "I never meant to hurt you."

He takes the carton from me, finishes it, and crumples it. "You know what? You don't have to be sorry. It was a huge fucking lesson, being with you, Kat, and I'm grateful for that."

I look at over at him. His eyes are closed, and his tan, handsome face looks calm.

"How so?" I ask him.

"I learned three important things. First, chemistry counts."

"So you're saying we didn't have any chemistry?" I ask. I'm not offended, I'm just really curious how Colin is taking this all so well. He was so upset at first. "Was it me, you think?"

"Sweetheart, you're gorgeous inside and out, and sparky and smart as a whip. And I can't say what you saw in me—"

"You're sexy and adorable and kind-hearted and smart and trustworthy and generally way more decent that me," I offer at once.

"I am all those things," he agrees with a wink. "But it shouldn't take a year to convince a girl to date you if the chemistry is right."

"Fair point," I sigh.

"And then we did date—for another whole year. And you could never talk yourself in to having sex with me, no matter how many of the boyfriend boxes I checked off. A girl that doesn't want to sleep with her sexy, adorable, kind-hearted, blah-blah-blah boyfriend—after as long as we had been dating—just isn't in love with him."

Wow. Colin nailed it. I don't know what to say.

"Colin, I'm so—"

He pats my hand. "I know. You're sorry. I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I wore you down with kindness and made you feel...obligated to be with me."

After an awkward moment, I ask. "What was the third thing you learned?"

He looks over at me with a sad smile. "That I have to let go of you, because I want a girl that looks at me the way you look at him."

I sneak beneath his arm and hug him. "You know what, Col? Your perfect girl is out there. And she is a far luckier girl than me. Because you will always be there for her, you will never walk away and leave her hanging for two years, and you sure as shit won't marry her sister."

Beneath me, his chest shakes with silent laughter. I slap him. He squeezes me.

"I take back what I said about you being smart. You are pretty dumb for being in love with that bastard and not me," he teases.

I groan miserably. "God, he is a bastard. And a liar, and a cheater..."

"Hold up now, I was kidding, sort of. Is Gallant an arrogant bastard? Yes. Liar? I'll even give you that, because I think withholding a truth someone needs to know is lying. But cheater? Let's review the facts, that you have made me listen to over and over this week. I thought you said he wouldn't sleep with you. I thought you said he was trying to slow the whole thing down. I thought you said he kept warning you he had some stuff to work out. I thought you said he kept trying to talk to you about Ashlynn."

"Whose side are you on?" I retort.

He rolls his eyes at me. "Yours, obviously. That's why I think you should maybe not make this harder on yourself by turning the guy you are in love with into a villain. Be pissed, make sure he actually deserves your trust and love, sure. But if you really have these epic feelings for him that you can't shake, you're only going to make yourself miserable by trying to hate him."

"So you are saying I should be ok with the fact that he's married to my sister?" I ask incredulously.

"Kat, from everything you've told me, I would not say he's not really married to her. It more like an intervention gone wrong. It's a no-brainer that he and Ashlynn will get that resolved, if she gets help, now that your parents are back in the loop."

"He should have told me that first night. He...we...he should never have pulled me into his life--so close, so fast—and made me...want so much without telling me everything," I mutter, not wanting to share too many details. "I feel betrayed. So fucking betrayed by him. How could he and I ever get past that?"

He gives me a long look of sympathy, then kisses me forehead as he rises to leave. "I dunno. Obviously, I'm not the man with the answers, when it comes to your love. Maybe you should ask Trace that." He slides across the pool deck, picking up his shirt and stuff, preparing to leave. "You good? I have...a thing," he says hooking his thumb casually in the direction of my driveway.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm kind of done, wallowing, I guess. In fact," I grin, "this afternoon, I have a...meeting. About an opportunity."

"You don't mean for those clubbing engagements, do you?" he asks suspiciously.

"No, but it's an opportunity that's definitely come about from being associated with Trace," I grimace. "Still, it's different than all the other offers pouring in. It sounds...I dunno...maybe legitimate? I want to hear what they have to say, at least."

"Be careful, Kat," he frowns. "I hate to say it, but you should definitely run any Hollywood-type offers by Trace to see what he thinks. Or at least that publicist lady." He checks the time on his phone. "Shit! I'm sorry, Kat, I've really got to run."

"Where's the fire?" I ask suspiciously.

"I'm meeting someone for lunch," he replies vaguely.

"You know, Colin, you seem...really good with things. Much better than when we first broke up ten days ago. Is there something you want to tell me?" I ask, smiling. I have a sneaking suspicion.

He grins. "I already told you everything you need to know: chemistry counts. And I don't kiss and tell."

"Son of a bitch!" I exclaim. "You met somebody else already, didn't you!?!"

He smiles in a way that's unfamiliar to me—a devilish, slightly dangerous way. And that's when I know, he's thinking of someone else—someone that's not me. He never smiled at me like that. "Tomorrow is gym day, friend," he says. "Gotta keep that ass fine, since you are a pseudo-celebrity now," he shoots over his shoulder.

"Thanks for dragging me out of my pity bed, friend," I call to him.

"Always," he promises.

"Hey, what was your confession, anyway? You never said."

"Trace called me. Just to make sure you were doing okay. But we got to talking...I think you should at least hear him out. He's an arrogant bastard, but he makes a compelling argument for being an arrogant bastard that loves the fuck out of you." He winks.

Then he waves and is gone, leaving me speechless. Trace and Colin—bonding? I take off my sunglasses just to make sure--we aren't in the Upside-Frickin-Down, are we? Nope. Looks like Georgia in June.

After he leaves, I roll over on the chaise lounge on my stomach, and think about what Colin said. I haven't spoken to Trace since that night I was drugged up. He's texted me three times a day—an apology every morning, an update on Ashlynn every afternoon, and a promise that he's going to spend as long as it takes earn my forgiveness every night. I've ignored them all, as well as the random phone calls, but he keeps trying.

I don't know how to feel right now. Trace has always made me feel—too much, and all over the place. He's the most dangerous combination of personality traits—reckless in his actions and guarded in his thoughts. I do love him, but I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that he thought it was ok to hide his marriage to Ashlynn. I'm afraid I will never understand it. I'm afraid he will never let me in, so that I could even begin to understand it.

I think we are both just scared right now. Big love hurts so bad when it goes wrong, and it's human nature to hide from hurt.

I decide to read Trace's expected noon-time text. It's different than the noon-time texts of the last few days. It's much longer:

A lot of crazy shit going down today, KittyKat. I would like to tell you about it before you see it on the internet. But if you won't talk to me today, you will have to eventually. I'm coming for you. I will not walk away and leave things like this with you. I made that mistake once. I'm not making it again. We aren't done.

I knew from my mother's texts—that I am also ignoring— that Ashlynn is getting released tomorrow, and she and my parents are getting on a plane in Nashville that will take them directly to her rehab facility in Florida. My mother doesn't speak of the Rock Star Who Must Not Be Named but I guess he's probably going to.

Whenever it's convenient for him, I guess he thinks he's just gonna swing back by and swoop me up. Like one of Soundcrush's damn Grammy's. Just another rock star trophy. Well fuck him, because the first two sentences of his text have made me angry all over again.

I can guess what he means about the crazy shit going down and me seeing it on the internet. The Big Secret must be breaking. I can see the tweets now: Little Sister Shocker: Trace Is Married To Big Sister! Or Sisters Share Everything, Even Rock Stars.

I refuse to cry anymore. If I have to be publicly humiliated, maybe I should get something out of it for my shame. I power down my phone, so that I don't have to see the headlines, and I jump up, determined to look like anything but a Little Sister for my "interview" in a couple of hours. 

Well, Kat is heartbroken, but trying to get her sh*t together. She ain't gonna let no eff-ing rock star put her under, right? Y'all give my girl some love with that star button, please! 

Spoiler for Friday: Double Update. Trace and Ashlynn! Then Trace and Kat!