"I'm going to Logan's," I say. There's no need to lie to him. "Get out of my way."

He stands between me and the door with his arms folded, his feet spread wide. Shoot. I should just go to my room and wait for him to pass out. I turn to walk in that direction, but he grabs for me again. I jerk my arm from his grip. That hurts.

"Stop it, Trip," I say. "Just go to bed."

He grabs my hips and pulls me to him, grinding himself against me. "I will if you'll go with me."

I wouldn't go to the store with him, much less to bed. "You're drunk, Trip. Go sleep it off."

"I'm not so drunk that I can't get it up," he says.

Yes, I can feel that much against my stomach where he's pressed against me. I take a deep breath and take his face in my hands, looking into his eyes. "Go to bed," I say softly. "We'll talk tomorrow."

He bends his head and presses a kiss to my neck. Then he bites down, sucking hard on my skin. I shove him back, covering my neck with my hand. "What was that, Trip?" I shout. "God, what's wrong with you?"

"It's just a little love bite," he says, grinning. "You used to love for me to nibble on your neck."

"That wasn't a nibble," I say. "It's like you were trying to suck my blood or something."

"I'll suck on something," he says, as his hand comes up to cup my breast.

I can't help it. I slap him. I slap him directly across the face. I hit him so hard that I have to shake the sting from my hand.

It's in that second that I realize my front door is open, and then Logan charges across the room like a bull and hits Trip in the side, tumbling with him to the floor.

"Logan!" I cry, tugging on his shoulder. He has his hands around Trip's throat and noises are coming from his mouth that I don't understand. I've never seen him this angry, but apparently intense emotion affects his speech.

Trip grunts from beneath him, and I see what's going to happen before it ever does. Trip reaches for an urn that's on the floor by the couch, and he picks it up to hit Logan over the head with it. It bounces off his back, though, and just tumbles to the floor. It's plastic, so I don't know what Trip thought he was going to do with it.

"Let him up, Logan," I say, getting my face down near his. "Let him up. He's drunk."

He doesn't let him up, though. He keeps his knee on Trip's chest. He's not hurting him, but he's holding him there. "What the fuck was he doing to you that made you slap him?" he asks.

"He's drunk. Let him up so he can go to bed."

Logan takes his thumbs off Trip's windpipe, and Trip draws in a huge gulp of air. "Call the cops, Emily," Trip starts screaming. Logan tightens his grip again.

"He has to shut the fuck up if he wants me to let him up." He looks down at Trip. "I hate a fucking drunk," he says. "I'm going to let you up, and you're going to go to your room. Do you understand?"

Trip nods. Logan steps back, and Trip scrambles to his feet, nearly falling over in the process. "I should call the cops."

"So I can tell them how you were assaulting me?" I ask.

He looks confused. "I just wanted to kiss you," he whines. He's not pretty when he drinks. Not at all.

I shake my head. "But I didn't want to be kissed." I blow out a huge breath. I feel as though someone pulled the stopper on a big balloon inside me. "Go to bed, Trip. We'll talk tomorrow."

Trip nods, unsteady on his feet. He goes into his room and closes the door.

I draw in a deep breath, and Logan pulls me into him. I let him hold me because I think he needs it even more than I do. I step back and shake out my hand. I really hit Trip pretty hard, and my palm is still stinging.

"What did he do?" Logan bites out.

I shake my head. He's not going to stop asking until I tell him. "He tried to kiss me. That's all." He lays his thumb on my lips.

"He kissed you?" he asks, his voice soft and reverent. His eyes search mine and I know he's watching all my nonverbal cues.

"No," I clarify, shaking my head. "He tried to kiss me. That's a very different thing." I unclip the barrette from my hair and brush it out with my fingers as I kick off my shoes. "What are you doing here?" I finally ask.

"I was worried about you," he admits. His face is stony. "With good reason, apparently."

I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tightly. "I'm so glad you're here." He helps me shrug out of my coat, and his hands on my arms are freezing. "Why are you so cold?" I ask.

"I rode the bike over here," he admits.

"A bike?"

"A motorcycle, really," he goes on to explain.

"You have a motorcycle?" I had no idea he owned a motorcycle.

"It's Paul's. He let me borrow it." He tips my head to the side to look at my neck. "What the fuck is that?" he barks.

I shake my head. "Nothing."

"It's not nothing, Emily." He growls, and I expect to see him pound on his chest like an ape any second. That would be kind of hot, actually.

I don't want to talk about it anymore. "I'm glad you're here," I say. "Can you help me get out of this dress?" I ask because I want to take his mind off my neck and the mark Trip left there.

He points me toward my room and pops me on my butt. "In the bedroom," he says. He glares at Trip's door.

"He's out for the night. He won't bother us." I have seen Trip drunk enough times that I'm certain of it. "Can you stay the night?"

He follows me into the bedroom and closes and locks the door behind us. With a pensive look, he pulls my lower lip from between my teeth with the pad of his thumb. I hadn't even realized I was biting it.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to kill him when I saw his hands on you," he says.

"Not nearly as much as I wanted to." I turn my back to Logan, and he slides the zipper down slowly. He pushes my hair over my shoulder and presses his lips to my shoulder, making me go all quivery on the inside. "What made you come here?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I didn't want to sleep without you." He tweaks my nose as he starts to unbutton his shirt. He hangs it over the back of a chair, shaking the wrinkles out of it. The racks holding the clothes my mom sent over are still in the corner. "You know," he says. "I was talking with Henry downstairs. Did you know his wife is so ill she's in a nursing home?"

I gasp. I had no idea. "Is she all right?" I ask.

"He goes there every night to sleep because he says he can't sleep without her." He smiles and tips my chin up. "I want us to be like them when we grow up." He grins.

"I think we already are them," I say. It's true. We are. I am not sure I could live without Logan at this point.

He undresses completely and slips between my sheets. I get ready to pull a T-shirt over my head, my back to him when he complains.

"No, leave that off," he says, his voice gruff. I shrug, turn the lights down but not off, and climb into bed with him. And then he shows me all the reasons why I never want to sleep in a bed away from him ever again. And then he shows me even more reasons when he pulls me into his arms and holds me close all night long.

Logan I like having her legs spread around me. I like it more than I should. Her arms are wrapped around my waist, and her face rests against my back. I made her wear the helmet, but we're only going around the corner so I can drop her off at Julliard, so I'm not too worried about getting caught without one. I pull up in front of the building where her first class is located and kill the engine.

"Do you want me to walk with you to class?" I ask as she gets off the bike and unclips the helmet. She holds it out to me and smiles, shaking her head.

"I can find it." She leans forward and presses her lips to mine. I pull her closer, not ready to give her up yet. She's looking all fresh faced and excited with her hair up in a ponytail and her backpack slung over her shoulders. She says something against my lips, and I sit back so I can see her face.

Thanks for the ride, she signs.

You're very welcome. God, she's so pretty.

She grins and blushes. Thanks for the one last night, too.

I go hard immediately. Be careful, I warn.

Or what? she teases.

I jerk her to me with a quick tug to her scarf, and she laughs. I can feel the quake of her stomach against my hip. I fucking love you so much, I say. I can't seem to stop telling her.

She rolls her eyes, kisses me quickly and says, I just love it when you get all romantic. I love you, too.

I spin her toward her building and tap her on the ass. I have something I need to take care of this morning. Something really important. She waves at me as she walks away, her fingers barely moving. Then she holds up the I love you sign, and I know my name is written right below it.

I stop at home so that I can shower and change. I want to look nice when I go to her father. I need to explain to him, man-to-man, why Emily isn't going to be staying at her apartment, or at least not until Trip's gone. That mark on her neck is inexcusable. It's like he was trying to brand her, even though she's mine. And I simply can't tolerate that. What would have happened if I hadn't shown up when I did?

Paul is just getting up when I come out of the bathroom. "Glad to see you're back to normal," he says, smiling at me over a cup of coffee.

I tell Paul about what happened at the party with the model, about Emily's father, and about what Trip did just before I got to Emily's apartment last night.

He shakes his head. "That's fucked up," he says. "What are you going to do?"

I heave a sigh. "I think I have to go and talk to her father. Today."

He nods. It's slow but still a nod. He's hesitant, and I don't understand why.

"What?" I ask.

"He's not going to approve no matter what you do. He wants a certain life for her."

"Emily can't read," I blurt out.

Paul spits into his coffee. "What?" he sputters.

"She can read," I correct. "She knows what letters are and how to spell words, but she has dyslexia. Reading is really, really hard for her. That's why her father wants her to marry. That's why he doesn't want her to have an education and thinks she should just marry some rich douchebag. He doesn't think she's worth any more than that."

"Ouch," he says. That's what Paul says when he wants to mull over a tender topic.

"You won't tell her I told you about not being able to read, will you? She hides it really well."

He inhales deeply. "I already knew. I've seen her read to Hayley." He looks into my face. "Is that why you spoke to her?" I went eight years without saying a word. And she made me want to talk again.

I nod. "She couldn't read what I wrote down."

"You talked to her all along didn't you?" He smiles, but it's only a half-smile.

"Pretty much from the day that I met her," I admit. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you." I feel bad now. I went years without speaking. "You guys all made it really easy for me to retreat and not speak since you all learned to sign."

"You're fucking deaf, dumbass. What else were we going to do?"

A lot of deaf families never learn sign language. "I'm sorry," I repeat. "It was easier being quiet."

"She doesn't make anything easy for you, does she?"

"What? She makes everything easy for me. I didn't even choose to talk. It just happened." I smile. She turns me inside out. "I love her so fucking much."

"I know you want to be a man about this, but her father's going to fight you the whole way."

"I know." I wish that wasn't the case. "But I feel like I need to be open with him."

"You're going to get a fat fucking headache from banging your head against that wall."

"She had to wear a scarf to school today to cover up her neck."

"Fucker," Paul swears.

Sam walks into the kitchen in boxer shorts and a T-shirt, scratching his belly. "Morning," he says as he goes to the coffeepot.

Something is going on with Sam and Pete, Paul signs behind his back. You know about it?

What? I ask They've been hanging out with Bone.

Why? My movements are exaggerated. I'm suddenly pissed.

They deny it. But I hear things. He shrugs. Just wanted to see if you knew anything about it.

I don't know anything about it. I've been a little preoccupied. Sorry. Want me to look into it?

He shakes his head. I'll do it.

Sam turns to face us. "You guys were talking about my ass, weren't you?" He grins. "I know it's awesome, but try to contain yourselves."

Sam makes me laugh. He has this way about him. "Sam, do you think you could make dinner tomorrow night? I want to invite Emily's parents over."

Paul sputters into his coffee again. "Here?" he asks.

I nod. "I want them to see what our family is like. In person."

"Why do I have to cook?" Sam whines.