“So you’re the Pigeon, huh?”“No,” I snapped. “I have a name.”He seemed amused at the way I regarded him, which only served to make me angrier.“Well? What is it?” he asked.I took a bite of the last apple spear on my plate, ignoring him.“Pigeon it is, then,” he shrugged.”

“He won't hurt you, Pigeon," Travis said. "I won't let him.”

“You’re important to me, you know,” I said, squeezing him.“I don’t understand you, Pigeon. I thought I knew women, but you’re so fucking confusing I don’t know which way is up.”“I don’t understand you, either. You’re supposed to be Eastern’s ladies’ man. I’m not getting the full freshmen experience they promised in the brochure,” I teased.“Well, that’s a first. I’ve never had a girl sleep with me to get me to leave her alone,” he said, keeping his back to me.”

“Hey, Pigeon.”“Everything okay?”“It is now,” he said, pulling me against him.”

“I’m so sorry, Pigeon. I tried to get to you. I tried….” He cleared his throat of the anger and worry that choked him. “I couldn’t get to you.”

“A familiar pair of strong, protective hands rested on my shoulders. “He won’t hurt you, Pigeon,” Travis said. “I won’t let him.”

“You like Pigeon,” he said defensively. “It’s a dove, an attractive girl, a winning card in poker, take your pick. You’re my Pigeon.”